Running to a Better World

I firmly believe that the world would be a better place if all people, young and old, male and female, would and could run. Now that's a fairly bold assertion, and one I'm sure many would take issue with. As I've mentioned in earlier posts, there are people who proclaim confidently and loudly that they hate, yes hate, running. They will run if chased, but otherwise, no thank you. I, on the other hand believe that the world would be a happier, healthier, more compassionate place, if more people ran. Yet, the empirical evidence may not be there to support my claim. So what are my reasons? Why stand on my high horse professing the virtue of running? Why do I feel this urge to push my views on everybody else? Why don't I just shut-up and run, and let others do as they wish?

Well, I'm not going to force anyone to run. I won't even say that you should run (and should implies an ought). But I do believe that as members of human society, we each have a right and perhaps a duty to try to persuade others to do what is good for themselves and those around them - and with that view follows the consequence, that you may feel free to try to persuade me if you feel otherwise. I say persuade - not force, badger, coerce, threaten - but simply to argue (not fight) in a search for a better life and a better world.

John Start Mill argued that when there are more happy individuals in the world there is more overall happiness. Moreover, as a Utilitarian, he argues that it is our moral duty to act in a way that creates more happiness not just for ourselves, but for everyone. Aristotle believed that as social beings we need society and depend upon it for our development and the pursuit of our ultimate end (aim or goal) which is Eudaimonia - a flourishing, complete life. As such, it is our job as members of society to encourage the exercise of the virtues. A good society and state encourages the virtues. A corrupt society and state encourages the vices. So, I'm just here to do my part, and perhaps my duty.

So, to continue: I believe the world would be a happier, better place if most/more people ran regularly. By regularly I'd say, oh, perhaps 4-6 days a week. It doesn't matter how fast or slow you run - just run (I suppose that hiking, walking, rock climbing, cross country skiing and other vigorous, yet contemplative, activities could also suffice). Why do I think this?  I'm not going to pull out the old endorphin argument - we all already know all about that. That argument only strengthens my position - but I believe I have a strong claim beyond the endorphin angle.   What I'm talking about the effect that being in and moving our bodies through the world has on us, our relationships with others and our feelings about our environment.

I know, for myself, that after I run I am much more: relaxed, energized, patient, concerned, clear-headed, motivated, focused, satisfied, etc. with myself and everyone around me. It's not like I'm a jerk before I run, at least I don't think I am, but running gives me the time and space to sort things out so that I am better able to pay greater attention to the important things in life. Additionally, I care more about my natural surroundings because I'm out there every day, in all weather, through every seasons. I'm out there when I'm feeling depressed, and when I'm feeling satisfied and hopeful. Running forces me to leave the safe isolation of my own little world. Running is also simple, and it is slow enough to allow you to really see, smell, feel, taste, and hear what is happening around you, yet fast enough to require effort and fortitude.

But - the naysayer retort - who am I to say that my experience would apply to others? This is a fair question. As a philosophy (and logic) instructor I should know better then to rely on the example of my experience which amounts to nothing more than a hasty generalization (insufficient and unrepresentative sample varieties) to advance my argument. I could try to strengthen my argument by adding the additional claim that I know a lot of runners, I'd estimate, several thousand.  But that helps little given the fact that there are around 7 billion people in the world right now.

So, what do I have left? I guess all I really have is a weak argument that relies basically on a vision, a feeling, an intuition, rational or irrational, about how people work and the sort of creatures we are - animals that need to move (among other things) - something we tend to lose sight of in our technology obsessed age. You may take it or leave it. But, I will ask the naysayers to try out my way before they poo-poo it - for their argument may suffer from similar fallacious reasoning - they haven't really given it a chance before drawing their conclusions.  I think once they really give it a try, they too will be convinced.

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If more people ran, the world would be a better place because: Running allows you to run away when you need to and to run back when you are ready. Running takes you out into your world as the animal you really are and connects you to the world. You see the trees, the buildings, the people, the dogs, the birds, the sky, the cracks in the sidewalk,  - seasons change, clouds move through the sky, rivers rise and fall, snow flies, flowers bloom. You feel your own cold breath move through your throat on a frosty morning, and the heat of your blood beneath your skin on a hot afternoon. You know the warmth of the first breath of spring, and the shiver of the first chill of autumn. You smell mud, grass, smoke, dust, diesel fumes, heat rising off of the pavement, rain soaking into the ground.  In winter ice forms on you brow and the hairs of your upper lip.  In the summer you can taste the salt of your effort. You run to survive the death of a loved one, to heal from a failed relationship, and to celebrate a birth on a new life. But, you also see trash carelessly tossed in gutters, angry aggressive drivers, dead animals, feted streams, fields of wildflowers plowed under for new development.  Day in, and day out, you feel pain, power, humility, weakness, strength, invincibility, fear, hope, sadness, wonder...elation.

Running may not make you a good and happy person, but it may offer an opportunity to discover or create that in yourself. Running may just wake you up. Perhaps even shake you up, if you're paying attention.

Recently I was told that I am idealistic and unrealistic (and perhaps naive) because I believe runners should sometimes run races for charity not because they gain entry into the Boston Marathon or the New York City Marathon, but just because it's a good thing to do. I was told that people just don't do that. I don't buy it.  I believe that running has the power to wake us from our dogmatic slumber as we realize that we are part of the world community, part of the natural environment, part of our town, neighborhood, country -  and we have the ability to do some good in a world that sometimes feels so big, where we often feel so powerless. 

Running makes you feel alive. When you are running you are alive, and, you know it. You have energy and power, and sometimes you may even feel that you can change the world. So now, let's go out and do some good in the world...

http://giverunning.org/default.aspx
http://sunflowermission.org/press/2009/Race_With_Heart
http://www.backonmyfeet.org/
http://www.shoe4africa.org/

Addendum: I posted the video above because I think the sentiment is spot on. I hope NIKE will practice what it preaches and promises here. Thus far, the company's record is has not been a shining beacon of hope. We runners might want to encourage NIKE to do the right thing around the world - pay living wages, provide safe working conditions, and refrain from sponsoring athletes (ie. Micheal Vick) who contradict the message they're making above (can sport please kick the ass of animal abuse too?). Let them know what you think...@  http://www.nikebiz.com/contact/

Reflections on Running and Motherhood

Sunday morning dawns like any other Sunday morning (a non-racing Sunday, that is). Sunday is normally my rest day - at least I don't run - which means I can sleep in a bit, and I'm always home to wake-up my daughter. After a leisurely breakfast with the family, I'm off for a couple hours of climbing at the rock gym. My husband and daughter join me a bit later. My daughter climbs, swings on the ropes, slides down the slide, dances around, and just has fun as I do some easy cool downs. 

On this particular Sunday a large birthday party is in the making. The rock gym is a popular kid's party option. I recognize the birthday girl and her parents, though I can't quite place them. Over the course of the next 15 minutes, children stream into the gym. Before I notice, Sophia sees some of her friends - in fact, most of her neighborhood friends are attending this party of epic proportions. One friend invites her to join - but we do not really know the birthday girl - and Sophia has not been invited to the party. She gradually begins to sense that something is not right here. Why are all her friends invited? Why isn't she invited? For the first time ever, I feel like the worst mother in the world.

One of the moms, who is a friend of mine and the mother of one of Sophia's best friends, waves and tries to talk with me. I look her in the eye and say: "I hope you can understand that I need to get Sophia out of here NOW". She nods, understandingly, a tinge of pity in her eyes, as I whisk my sobbing 4 year-old away.

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So what's the problem here? Why am I feeling like the worst mother in the world? Well, I am not your typical mother. Running sometimes, just sometimes, interferes with other activities - it sometimes means that my daughter and I don't do other things. Of course choices must be made constantly, but there is still this niggling concern that I'm somehow letting my daughter down and sacrificing her healthy and happy development all to allow me to squeeze in a couple more miles. Yikes, what could be more selfish, more unnatural!

I'm a fairly committed runner (if you tell me that I shouldn't go for a run I will kick you in the shin) and by some people's standards, I might be considered a 'bad' mother because I take important time for myself. Motherdom is full of martyrs. Though it's clear from the number of "mommy runner" blogs out there that I am not alone - yet, the question remains:  Can you be a committed runner and a good mother at the same time? Well, that all depends on how you define "good mother".

                 Sophia ready to roll. This is how we loved to spend our mornings.

My daughter is very aware that mommy loves to run - in fact mommy really has got to have her run. Perhaps it's the same for children of drug addicts - there's a kind of preternatural understanding that my daughter has. She doesn't question my desire/need to run - she sees this as natural - it's all she's known.  After all, she started running with me at 5 weeks old and I ran through most of my pregnancy.

Now here's the problem: One of the things (good) mothers do, that I'm really not so into, are playgroups. I would probably avoid them even if I didn't run, but running makes it tough to get to a 9 a.m. meeting without arriving a stinking, sweaty mess. When Sophia was younger, we were often out running together during playgroup time. Sometimes we would run to a playgroup, me pushing the blue BOB, Sophia reading and snacking and napping along the way. But I always felt that I somehow violated the other moms's sensibilities, or that I was a bit of a freak, an oddity - the other moms "Ooo-and- Aaaa" over my extraordinary feat of endurance and discipline - they often commented on how they could never find time to do such a thing -  I tried to fit in, but I just didn't.

I try to fit in, but I just don't.

I never really understood that this might be a big deal - at least for my daughter (I'm well aware of my own social awkwardness) - after all she's very social - she began school at 2 1/2 because she really wanted to go to school, and she has lots of friends. But on that Sunday morning I realized that running interfered with playgroup opportunities - and in American suburbia, playgroup culture is a big deal. Moms do "girl's/mom's night out", there's the group camping trips, and, of course, birthday parties. Sophia was not invited to this birthday party because I had neglected her playgroup social development. And here it was, for all the world to see. Oh, the shame of it.

Well, we all make choices. None of us can be and do all things, and so I must accept the choices I've made and make peace with them and understand that I am doing what I believe is best for my daughter.  I believe that I am setting a good example. I am taking care of myself and her. I want her to always care for herself as well as for those she loves. I want her to be strong, to pursue her passions, to decide how she wants to live her life. I do not want her to grow up to be a woman who sacrifices all of herself for others - that just hurts everyone involved.  I live according to my principles and values.  I'm not perfect, far from it, but I try my best - it's the best I can do - and I love my daughter to the moon and back.

The Big Myth: Running is Boring

I have a confession to make: I am never bored when I'm running. My friends and neighbors, and even some family members, wonder if perhaps I have some strange super human powers that allow me to deal with extreme boredom as I venture out on four hour runs, sans IPod (Um, I don't own one), and manage to return home without somehow morphing into a screaming lunatic from the shear tedium of it all. And yet week after week, year after year, I return, swing open back gate and drag my tired, satisfied mind and body home, seemingly unscathed. 

Clearly there must be something wrong with me.
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The ad in Runner's World for the "Tougher Muddy" series proclaims in large, bold, burning red letters that "MARATHONS ARE BORING".  The "Warrior Dash" promises "The craziest frickin' day of your life". "Spartan Race" organizers explain that: "Spartans believed while on this earth they should achieve one moment of Excellence and understood they might die trying!" (that's not exactly true, but whatever. It sounds good) and they ask: "Are you unbreakable?".  Then there's the "Muddy Buddy" where legends are made: "They were average men...Now they are obstacle conquering, trail running, mountain biking, cape flying champions...watch out ladies." Aside from the sexist message, what exactly are these brave men champions of?  What sort of 'excellence' is achieved? And, no, you are not unbreakable!

Call me a grump, but these sound more like a frat party gone bad than any sort of serious (even seriously fun) competition that involves real challenge and real risk. Marathons are serious fun - that is, they require a fairly serious approach no matter who you are and what your goals may be. And they're fun in a twisted sort of way that can only be understood by those who have been there.
 
But one message seems to shine through with all the "obstacle course" "adventure" races:  Running is boring. Running is so, so very old. We really are beyond all that and we need new, real challenges.  Is this true? What is the appeal of this new breed of competition? Are these races actually targeted at runners, or some other sort of human creature? 
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For non-runners, and some new runners, when they think of running they think: boredom. There you are, out on the road putting one foot in front of the other and repeating and repeating, mile after mile, 180 steps per minute. For a four hour run that 43,200 steps - just steps, and after all that you usually just end up exactly where you started from. The most excitement I get is facing down an aggressive pack of cyclists dead-set on running me into a ditch. Or a car playing chicken with me. Or, perhaps the growling dog that's running loose with a broken chain still attached to his collar. Mostly, though, it's me moving through the world putting one foot in front of the other.

Over my 30+ years of running I am constantly asked: "Don't you find running boring?" Or better yet, the condescending comment: "Oh, I just find running so boring." The implication here, of course, is that I'm such a simpleton that I don't even get bored doing something as inherently boring as running. Well, sorry to say, I have a lot of interesting things to think about - in fact, it's seemingly endless - at least I haven't found the end yet.

One of the problems with running is that it's hard. Putting one foot in front of the other is not on its own that difficult, but repeating it thousands upon thousands of time in row is tough. I believe that people tend to confuse 'difficult' with 'boring; as in, if something feels hard then they think it's boring.  As a philosophy instructor, I see this confusion all the time. Students find the material difficult, so they think that the problem is with the material (it's boring which is why they don't understand it), when the problem is actually with them (they really have no desire to do what needs to be done to understand the material). So with the rising popularity of all these new 'adventure' races, are the glory days of running behind us? 

I posed a couple questions to my Facebook friends (and some real blood-and-bones friends) and asked them: 1) What is the appeal of these "adventure" races? and; 2) Do you get bored running? The response to both questions was overwhelming and vehement.

On question #1 - several common themes surfaced in favor of the new races: "new challenge", "they are different and not boring", "fun", "crazy", "on the bucket list", "it's different", "cross training". For those who would never consider doing an "adventure" race of this type (I am not taking about tough trail races, but "obstacle course" races) the single theme that came through with each response was: I don't want to get hurt or waste my time because my running goals are too important to me.

To question #2 - Most runners who have been running for many years claim they never get bore running. They use their time running to get outside, listen to and enjoy nature, think about stuff they need to think about. One friend responded; "I used to think running was boring until I started running!" New runners or more occasional runners were more mixed, citing the need to have music and new routes - and some 'adventure" races thrown in - to keep things interesting.

So, are marathons boring or are they just really fairly hard? They do hurt. The training is arduous and committing. So, is the appeal of these new 'races' the challenge or just good old fashioned fun. Are the organizers really marketing to runners? Now, don't start calling my an uptight, obsessed runner who takes it all and herself too seriously (though I probably am), but it seems that we are comparing apples and oranges - and the fact remains that maybe, just maybe, these 'adventure races' won't test you the way a good ol' marathon will - or a 5k, 10k, etc. where you really push yourself to your limit when you just want to stop. But I suppose that if these races draw the crowds away from marathons, then it will be easier for the rest of us (runners) to secure a spot. And that's fine with me.

And, by the way, Spartans began training their male children to be warriors from the age of seven. Their culture left nothing of great value behind and it lasted a very short time. They did manage to take down a flourishing democracy - Athens - a city state that, in a span of several decades, managed to create wonders of art, architecture, philosophy, political theory, theater, and, literature. As Aristotle aptly commented:  'It is the standards of civilized men not of beasts that must be kept in mind, for it is good men not beasts who are   capable of real courage. Those like the Spartans who concentrate on the one and ignore the other in their education turn men into machines and in devoting themselves to one single aspect of city's life, end up making them inferior even in that."

Hmmmm. I don't want to be a Spartan and I don't want to live in ancient Sparta. I think I'll just keep right on running.

One Decision Made

Well the dithering and muttering will cease for a bit. As a follow up to my last post, I've decided to let my gut and the little voice inside my head decide.

My little voice whispers ceaselessly to me these days. This little voice whispers to me in the middle of the night. It whispered to me during a 3 a.m. run this past week and later during a 4 a.m. run. It whispered to me while I ran through the heat, humidity, grime and traffic of New Jersey. It whispered to me when I sat gazing out at the runway in Chicago with clouded, sleep deprived eyes while waiting to board my fourth flight of the week. It whispered to me as I looked at my mother, thin and frail from too much poison being pumped into her body. Enough. I am human after all, and this is all just too much right now. I give. I will stay sane. I will stay sane.

So my gut and the little voice say: "Don't run a marathon this fall, at least don't run the Denver Rock n Roll Marathon - run the half instead". But this is not just an irrational decision based on feeling and a completely spent emotional state. There's always reason beneath emotion, the challenge is to unearth the rational in what seems irrational. This race is not a race I'm jazzed about - and it never was. My idea of a good marathon is not one that weaves it's way through an urban environment - unless it's NY or Boston, or Chicago or London. When the RnR folks released the details on the new course this week it looked like a hodgepodge of twists and turns, and heres and theres, and round and rounds, and I could only think to myself - "Eeewwww". Not very inspiring I'm afraid.

So, I have reason and emotion on my side. And though this is not an easy decision to make, make it I have. I do not back out of things easily. I usually take it as a sign of weakness and lack of commitment - a character flaw (of which I have many). But in this case, I know it's the right thing for me - and it's taken more strength to make that decision then the strength required to push on in spite of it all.

I tell my daughter over and over again that her stubbornness is a strength, but it can also work against her if it's not used properly - if she remains steadfast when doing so only hurts her or gets in the way of what she really wants, then her strength becomes a weakness. Well, it's now time for me to take my own advice.

What ta do, What ta do: Thoughts on Goals

Sometimes you have a race or run or a day that changes your ideas of what your goals should be, or what goals you truly want to pursue. This happened to me recently and now I find myself walking around the house muttering to myself "what ta do, what ta do". So, I will now mutter here...

Last weekend I ran a sweet little Half Marathon in a fairly idyllic setting. I have to say that the CASA (Spearfish) Half Marathon, in Spearfish, South Dakota, is one of the best kept secrets of the road racing world. No, seriously. This small, very well organized race down a beautiful canyon along Spearfish Creek, is a must run for anyone within a days drive.

I drove up with the family a couple days early to do some touristy stuff - you know, Mount Rushmore, Custer State Park/ The Needles (nice swimming in Sylvan Lake) - and some rock climbing in Spearfish Canyon itself. The town of Spearfish is a great place to hang out for a few days. There are loads of reasonable motels (even some old and clean "motor lodges" that I love for nostalgia sake), great camping at the Spearfish City Park (where the race buses depart from and where the finish is), and bike paths threading throughout the whole town. Oh, and this is important, a new ice cream shop opened downtown the week before we visited.
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Race Day: I am up at 5 a.m.: Yesterday was sunny and hot. Today: cloudy and a little moisty-misty. I Shower, eat a MARATHON Bar and a cup of coffee, pack up my stuff in the dark motel room, and successfully scuttle away without waking my husband and daughter. I walk about a half mile to the start of the race through a still sleeping Spearfish. When I reach the park suddenly the whole world is a bustle of activity. Throngs of children move about in packs of brightly t-shirted energy, all jazzed, and a little nervous about their upcoming 5k. Things get off to a timely start - chip pickup at the park and then onto the big yellow school buses for the ride up the canyon. Misty clouds rest on the tops of the limestone cliffs that tower above.

The race starts off pretty much on time. We form a long line loosely based on our projected pace to allow all to cross over the fairly narrow starting electronic mats. The canyon is not closed to traffic, and we were warned on the bus not to run the tangents for safety sake. But runners are more concerned with their time then their safety. Certified courses are measured using the shortest possible distance between the start and finish - and damn if I'm gonna let some pesky cars interfere with my race! I, of course, was not alone on this one.

I go out very conservatively. I decided yesterday that this will be a good opportunity for a marathon pace run. The previous week I suddenly developed some foot pain and feared it was a stress fracture until a small nubbin popped up on top of my 4th metatarsal at the base of my toe. A ganglion cyst, was the diagnosis. What to do, what to do? Well my whole damn vacation revolved around this race, and my daughter was too excited about staying at a motel for me to even contemplate disappointing her. I had to soldier on. So I took a casual, no expectations approach.

By mile 8 I feel great and my foot isn't hurting me in the least, so I decide to pick up the pace. I feel good running a couple miles at 7:30, so I push it a bit more. The last 3+ miles I run around 7:15. As I run into Spearfish City Park I feel like I have so much left in the tank. I cross the finish in 1:44:59. Arrrggggg!

Why Arrrggg? I mean this isn't a terrible time - I'm 4th in my age division (which are 10 year increments - And I'm on the high end of my group;) 14th woman overall - okay, respectable. But I realize immediately that I've missed qualifying for the New York City Marathon by 59 seconds - and qualifying for NY is one of my big big goals. Arrrggggggg, WHY DID I GO OUT SO DANG SLOW!!! Oh, right, my foot. Blah.

So now I'm thinking, maybe, just maybe I should back off on my fall marathon plans and focus on halfs, which, when truth be told, I really do like best of all. Perhaps my body could use a little break from marathon training in the summer heat. Maybe I should save my legs for the Boston Marathon this spring (assuming I get in). I could go back up to Spearfish in late August for the Leading Ladies Half Marathon which travels down the same canyon. Hmmm. Dunno. I guess I'll be walking around muttering to myself for the foreseeable future...

It's Always Something

I tend to write really looooonnnng posts. Well, not today. Today I'm here to gripe, to whine, to complain, to vent - in search of commiseration, empathy, compassion.

A climbing friend of mine, who is also my yoga guru, offered, shall I call it, a theory on injuries: In her view the body and/or mind can only deal with and acknowledge one injury at a time. So, once you begin healing from one ailment, another pops up, seemingly out of the blue.

But, often if you really mine your memory for clues you will realize that there was some little niggling thing pestering you from time to time, but it just sort of flew under the radar. Then, given clearance (the first injury starts letting up) the little-niggler goes in for the kill.

This is my life. As a runner and climber I seem constantly to be nursing some or other major or minor tweak. I can usually soldier on through it all, but that doesn't make it pleasant. It's not that I don't learn from my experiences - I do, as is shown by the fact that I don't seem to have the same injury over and over. I learn about the injury, possible causes, remedies, ways to avoid a re-occurrence and then I try to act appropriately. But then something entirely different rears its ugly head. And, the whole process begins anew.

I went for years and years without a running injury. It's tempting to blame it all on my 4 year-old daughter: "I was never injured before I gave birth to you!" - but that seems a bit harsh - too much for the poor kid (We already tease her about how we used to be able to do anything we wanted until she came along - now as she makes demands, she teases us back with a devilish glint in her eyes). Perhaps it's age. Perhaps it's because I'm running more and harder than I did for many years. One thing seems certain: I need to relax about it all or it's going to make me crazy.

So, I have a half marathon to run in South Dakota on Saturday. Perhaps on Saturday night I'll have a glass of wine and take the motel bible and smash the bejeezus out of this ganglion cyst that has suddenly appeared on my foot. Come on, talk me down off the ledge...or, cheer me on...

Puzzling Pieces

“Man…sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived.”
~The Dalai Lama (when asked what surprises him the most about humanity)

It's been a strange week for me. On the face of it, nothing particularly extraordinary happened, it's just the way I'm putting together the pieces of the puzzle. I don't really know how the pieces fit. I'm trying to work it out.

So, here are some of the pieces floating around, rearranging themselves just as I get them in place...

Puzzle piece #1): A few days ago I was interviewed by Charlie Butler from Runner's World about a piece he's writing on Grete Waitz. His questions forced me to dig deep into the recesses of my memory. This digging dredged up a lot about who I am and how running, for as long as I can remember, has been a central part of my identity. For some reason women runners, like Grete Waitz (for more on this see: "For the Sake of Our Daughters", June 26th), reached me, touched me, changed me and influenced the direction of my life in ways I could never have anticipated. Different things change each of us. We pay attention to some things while others go unnoticed.

I grew up in New Jersey, a distinctly unremarkable place to grow up. Several times I traveled into New York City with my father on the New Jersey Transit trains to watch the NYC Marathon. When I was in high school, I remember watching Grete Waitz run by in Central Park, and feeling an irresistible urge to jump into the street and run with her, just for a moment. I can still feel the sensation of my nerves jumping under my skin, pushing me forward and pulling me back. Today I would try it. But my shy teenage self remained firmly planted on the side of the road. But I realize now, that something happened to me at that moment. A breeze (of sorts) blew past me and opened a door to a life that I can look back on now with a different understanding. There are those moments that change us, and we may not see it at the time. I see it now and it has made all the difference. Yes, I did wear pigtails like Waitz, and I wanted Adidas running shoes - but more importantly, she showed me that it was okay to be a girl and run, even if that made me different from 99% of my peers. She made me feel okay about me. This moment showed me a path and I noticed it and I took that path...

I found this difficult to convey to Charlie, perhaps because I'm still sorting it all out.

Which is where I find myself today - and this leads, in a somewhat indirect way to puzzle piece #2): I had a birthday this week. So, I ask myself: What does all this aging stuff mean? Well, unfortunately I am not moving up an age category. No, I'm just older in the same age category. I'm still holding my own, but it's tough. Each year I'm racing younger women. Of course the beauty of running and racing is that every five or ten years (depending on the race), you get to be the kid again - the young one in the group. Use it fast, 'cause it ain't gonna last. But, more importantly, I'm really only racing against (or with) myself anyway so age doesn't really matter. Ah, eternal youth. An age old problem solved through running!

But wait, the important question is: Am I creating a valuable life with/through all these years that keep piling up? Does running, remaining on this path, help in this effort? As we live life we make choices that close off other options. But what's often overlooked is that with each choice we also open new doors and discover new paths that we didn't know existed before. When I began running it never would have occurred to me that it would remain so rewarding even as the years march, relentlessly, on. The philosopher Nietzsche presented an interesting thought experiment called Eternal Recurrence. Here Nietzsche asks us to think about whether we would wish to live the moments of our lives over and over and over, for all eternity. Difficult to do, but an interesting idea to keep in mind.

This whole aging thing (#2) and paths taken (#1) leads to #3): My mom is not doing well. Her battle with cancer has been an arduous 3 month long (and nowhere near over) roller coaster ride of fear and hope, improvements and setbacks. We are all feeling weary, and (on the bad days) she is spending much time looking back with regret. It's hard to watch. It's painful to be part of. Has she lived "as if [s]he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived”? One never knows how they will face a life threatening illness until they face it themselves - though going through it with a loved one is close second. I am unwilling to say that I will face it with courage and no regrets. My greatest hope is that my mother will get better. My wish is that this experience will open a new, more fulfilling, path to her, and perhaps help me be mindful of how I live my own life.

But when I put these three puzzle pieces together what picture do I find? I have to say that I try to live in the present, and I make every effort not to sacrifice the things I most treasure. I have spent my life trying to balance the money/time challenge: Give up your time for money - Sacrifice money for more time. It's a compromise. Don't give more than your willing to lose. I am a college Philosophy instructor. I teach at a community college. For many academics, I work in the slums of academe. So be it. I don't really care how others define a successful life. I'm working on my own definition. And how I set off to define that successful life began, in part, on that day in Central Park. I know what I love. I can honestly say that I've passed up jobs because they would interfere too much with running (and other things that I love). Some would say I'm immature, irresponsible, and silly. I can't make a living running! True enough. But I can't make a life without the things a love - running, my family, nature, beauty, time to think...