Reflections on the Run

A2-A4: The carcass of the compact car rested on its roof like the shell of a crab picked over by gulls and washed ashore. It had been stripped of its meat and guts. The tires were gone. The engine and transmission were missing. The interior was in tatters. Andrew and I skirted the wreckage as we speed hiked the Grunt—a mile long, thousand foot climb back to the summit of Capital Peak along a Jeep trail strewn with rocks and debris. Clearly some rednecks had towed it to the top and either rolled it off the top or maybe even tried to drive it down this rocky chute. If I had been less focused, I might have seen this as an omen. We were less than twenty miles in and still feeling strong if not also a bit cocky. Over the previous few miles, we had leapfrogged ahead of a dozen or more people on the initial climb to the summit of Capital Peak. One poor soul, who identified himself as a Minnesotan, asked if we were on the hardest climb of the run. Perhaps cruelly, I reminded him that there was still the Grunt Mile to go as well as the last long climb between miles 42 and 46. We passed the car and were soon encased in the dense fog that clung to the summit. Andrew and I had been on the move for nearly four hours, and I had been popping Advil and salt tabs trying to keep aches and pains at bay. As we passed through the aid station at mile 24, I made a crucial mistake. The result was being stripped bare by pain in my knees.

A5-A7: Halfway to Aid Station 5, which sits at the end of a 5.5 mile out and back section of the run, it occurred to me that I should have picked up my replacement baggy of Advil and salt tabs. I popped the single red tab that remained futilely hoping that I would be able to make it back to the aid station before I got behind managing the pain in my knees. It was futile though. The gentle downhill into A5 was enough to cause me to have to grit my teeth. We were now 20 miles from the end, and my knees were awash in soreness.

This section of the trail along the ridge cut a winding line through deep, green carpets of moss. The forest dripped with life despite the occasional patch of winter snow still hanging on. Yet it was difficult to focus on the beauty of the moment. My thoughts kept being dragged to the escalating agony, and I could not help but berate myself for stupidly forgetting my resupply. I had failed to stick to the plan. Then, before me on the trail, appeared a photographer, and I knew that I was close to the aid station where I might find reprieve. Stumbling in, a mixture of relief and agony engulfed me. All I could think about was getting to the Advil as the pain was excruciating at that point. The fellow manning the aid station asked me what I needed, and at that moment my stitching blew apart.

Tears began to well up in my eyes, and a lump appeared in my throat preventing me from speaking. Barbarically I simply slapped the lid to the water jug, thrust my bottles into his outstretched hands, and then stepped away. Moments later, as I reentered the forest, I couldn’t control myself any further and began to sob heavily. For five or ten minutes, who knows exactly, I ran and cried—cried and ran. I had been prepared for this kind of total breakdown. Other long distance runners have experienced it. However, it shocked me that this release came pouring from such an intimate place in my soul and was fueled by my pain, exhaustion, and frustration. Perhaps fear of the final 15 miles was also a contributing factor.

A8: Eventually there was nothing left after this powerful hormonal release, and I was able to pull myself together again. The woman who I had been running with caught up to me, and she bombed down the mountain to the penultimate aid station. The Advil that I had taken was not making much of a dent in my discomfort; each step electrified the nerves in my knees. She pulled in front and seemed to hook an invisible cable to my waist. Somehow she helped me accelerate despite the discomfort. The course wound like a luge run through the juvenile pines. Together we raced to the aid station like some kind of articulated bendy bus out of control. Eventually we could hear the barking of dogs through the trees and could see people joyously tossing a Frisbee back and forth. The man who refilled my bottles offered water, electrolyte drink, or a margarita. His offer was tempting and for a moment I considered the benefits of alcohol as anesthesia. Yet I looked up to see my comrade starting up the hill on the final leg of the run.

As we climbed, she confided her concerns that she would lose her lead—currently she was set to be the first woman finisher—due to being slow on the uphill sections. My quads were now trashed from the descent, but I had a new goal: get her across the finish line first. Together we climbed the last hill, and I tried as best I could to keep her motivated with empty but supportive banter. Then the hail started. First it came down intermittently. Soon enough the sky ripped open, and we were lucky to have the cover of the pines to protect us from the storm. At the summit she took off again, bombing down the gravel road towards the finish line only a few miles away.

My knees were done though. I could not keep up with her. The ice pellets had turned to rain, and my shirt was plastered to my chest. As I watched her pull away, I could feel what I thought was my only remaining toenail come loose in my sock and begin to lacerate my foot. For a moment I considered just how much blood I would lose if I kept going. Doubt crept in, so I plopped down in the middle of the gravel road to strip the sock and shoe from my foot and inspect the damage. In hindsight it is eerie how much, in that moment, I resembled the abandoned old car: I was barefoot, on my butt in the road, and stripped of energy.

To The End: Suffice it to say that I was pissed when I discovered that what I was feeling was only a small blister in an odd spot and that I was doubly upset when two men I had worked so hard to pass barreled past me while I sat in a river of muddy, wet frustration. In true ultra style, they asked if I was alright, apologized for taking advantage of the situation, and then kept cranking right along. This disappointment for making the wrong choice tipped just enough fuel into my tank to motivate me to push to the very end. My buddy appeared in the forest behind me, and we were rejoined for the first time in hours. The last time we were really running together had been when we passed the junker on the Grunt Mile. At 2:43 in the afternoon—transformed by the previous eight hours—I crossed the finish line with him.

Since finishing, dozens of people have asked me how it was. I can only offer this observation. Once I spent 30 days on the flanks of Denali in Alaska attempting to summit the tallest peak in North America. The enormity of that experience—replete with joy and disappointment, suffering and elation—was matched in a nine hour day. That I consider phenomenal.

HOW TO MAKE GOOD ON YOUR PLEDGE

First, a sincere thank you to all the people who supported this scholarship. Without your pledges and financial support, it would have just been a stupidly long run.

How to make good on your pledge:
I did make it all fifty miles; proof will be posted as soon as the race director uploads the finalized results.

Option #1: Pay using Paypal
-This is quick, easy, and secure. It is important to note that unless you transfer funds from a bank account or Paypal balance, Paypal will take about 3% when you pay with a credit card.

Option #2: Pay with a check
-Simply make your check out to "The Endurance Scholarship" and mail it to me at the address below.

Option #3: Pay with cash
-If we see each other regularly, an envelope stuffed with cash and labeled with your name on it is the old fashioned way you can make good.

Mailing Address:
The Endurance Scholarship
C/O Jonathan Barrett
North Marion High School
20167 Grim Road NE
Aurora, OR 97002

50 MILES, BUT...

Perhaps you are logging on to find out how the run went yesterday. I am sorry to say that this post is not going to be a mile by mile description of the rocky climb to the peak, the aid stations, chasing down runners, or the hail storm with over an hour to go. For now I will only say that I finished all fifty miles. My next post will discuss the run itself. This one is to discuss something far more important: my wife.

When she and I got married, our wedding vows included the promise to each other that we would not only love and honor but encourage each other as well. Throughout this whole process from inception to completion, she as been more than a cheerleader for the effort. I doubt that it would have been possible without her various forms of support. She carefully edited my blog to make sure that my reputation as a diligent English teacher would not be tarnished by silly blunders. She cared for our son while I spent hours upon hours mucking through training runs. When I tossed and turned all night due to aching legs, she never complained. Not once did she ever taunt me for lying on the floor of the TV room with a lacrosse ball buried deep in the knotty tissue of my back. She stood on my hamstrings to ease the pain and called me when I was overdue from runs. But her greatest gift was promising that she would still be proud no matter the outcome.

Carissa did not come to watch the race because I told her it was an unnecessary burden. She wanted to be there even if it meant spending ten or eleven hours driving logging roads with our occasionally grumpy nine month old only to see me for less than a minute as I passed through a few aid stations. At mile thirty-five my friend, Shana, who had come to support me read me a text from her which said that she loved me. Although the power of that message overwhelmed me, I knew that she had been there the whole time.

With 15 miles to go, those words pushed me exceedingly hard to succeed. I did not want to fail her. She had invested so much in me that I could not simply ignore the sacrifices that she had made to support this project. Although her opinion of me would not have been any less if something had prevented me from finishing, it was only right that I do everything in my power to push all the way to the end. Never have I dug so deep for strength to finish as strongly as possible.

Perhaps it is silly to say so, but I want to use this public platform to say that I love her dearly and am deeply grateful to have a spouse who so selflessly loves and encourages my in all of my endeavors. This is a rare treasure which ought to be celebrated. The magnitude of my success is the result of her love and encouragement.

The Scholarship Goes To...

Last night, my panel finished their weeklong deliberation concerning the applicants for the scholarship. Even though it was clear that all were deserving of the award, there was one person who stood out as the clear choice: Caleb Dron.

They were deeply impressed by his ability to clearly articulate his struggles in seeking an education and the various ways he sought to overcome these barriers. As well they noted that he clearly was willing to engage in honest self-reflection regarding his strengths and weaknesses. The fact that he had tried various avenues to achieve success and not been daunted by short-term failures suggested to them that he was the one who would be most likely to overcome any future obstacles. The last quality that they recognized in him was the fact that he is trying to achieve his future goals by living them in the present. He is already taking measured steps towards his aspirations. They saw in him a distinctive self-reliance and a willingness to perceive education as something that is larger and more encompassing than just what happens within the walls of a formal school.

I am sincerely honored to be running for him tomorrow and hope to be able to live up to my promises. Caleb is an outstanding choice and a landmark person to represent the inaugural year for the scholarship.

The Plan

The ultra is now three days away. John Pearch, the race director, has sent out the aid station mileage as well as a finalized course. I thought that I would share my plan with you all. You can check out the course map here and the aid station mileage here.

The race starts Saturday morning at 6 in the morning, which is basically first light. Therefore I will be driving up Friday afternoon and camping at what is essentially the start line—Margaret McKenny Campground. My folks asked why it was that I wasn’t staying in a hotel room. The simple answer is that I don’t think I am going to sleep well Friday night, so it makes little sense to spring for a bed and shower.

As for the race strategy itself, the course is 50 miles long, and there are three main sections. The first is the initial climb to the summit of Capital Peak, followed by a small loop where you lose elevation, and then a .8 mile, straight climb back to the summit. Aid station #4 marks the end of this first section which is just shy of 20 miles. This is also the big work of the run. The next section is out and halfway back a long ridgeline comprising about 15 miles. The last fifteen miles section starts with a drop down for about seven miles to aid station #8, climbs back a small hill for a few miles to the last water point, and then out to the finish line.

These sections are, to a degree, my arbitrary designations. There are nine aid stations in total which will offer things like energy gels, solid food, salt pills, water, and even soda. The flat sugar water can be a real pick-me-up when things are going poorly. We are provided with the opportunity to also have a bag of supplies dropped at nearly all of the stations as well. My plan is to have one bag at Wedekind, which is both aid station #5 and #7 (miles 24 and 35). This will give me the chance twice to fix any problems I might have.

As for the bag itself, it will have the following things: change of socks, dry shoes, dry shirt, Body Glide (which is an anti-chafing substance), electrolyte drinks, and Gu. Although the day is supposed to be dry, if the trail is really muddy, I am going to want to have the option of changing socks and shoes to prevent blisters. As well, I plan on carrying some Perpetuum with me, but I will want to refill it twice.

As for pacing, I plan on taking things pretty easy for the first twenty miles. I am looking to be moving at around a 9:45 mile. This includes walking sections of uphill including the steep “Grunt” section. This puts me at A4 (19.7mi) around 9:15. I hope to be at A5 by 10am which is just shy 24 miles into the race. Here I plan on taking a brief respite to take stock of things: hamstrings, electrolytes, hydration, energy level. The goal is to be out of the aid station by 10:10. I recognize that the next eleven is going to be the toughest. My focus is to stay consistent and relaxed. If I can be back to A5, which is also A7, by 12:15pm, I will be doing well. This leaves the last 14.7 miles back to the finish. To meet my goal of 9 hours, I will need to maintain a pace of about less than 11:15 per mile, which is very doable. A 10 minute mile will get me done in about 8 hours and 40 minutes.

Lastly my plan includes staying flexible and staying attentive. Unlike my previous marathons where I had splits per mile and strove to hit them precisely (which I did usually within 15 seconds), this will be a very different animal. Paying attention to and responding to all the little details will be paramount. My biggest concern is going too hard early and flaming out. Not hitting target times is going to be ok, particularly in the small scale. In the end, it is all about pacing and staying focused on the big picture.

The Applicants

Thursday was the deadline for the scholarship applications, and I received a total of ten, which was more than I was expecting. Although, I cannot share the specifics—due to privacy concerns—I do wish to illustrate the kinds of students who have applied for this money. Reading through their responses to the two essay questions, I noticed the following commonalities.

More than a few have come to recognize that the jump to a four year college or university is out their reach for a variety of reasons. As a result they plan on doing two years at a community college first. In some cases, the students know that they will need to complete the prerequisites necessary for entrance into their field of choice and that it makes the most financial sense to start at community college first where credits are few less expensive.

Beyond the cost of college, one of the themes that came through an overwhelming percentage of the applicants was the desire to use their degree to help others. Here there was a broad spectrum of aspirations: future business ventures designed to support low income families; child advocacy lawyers; EMT’s and paramedics; special education and ELL educators; nurses and family practitioners. It is purely speculation to guess about this, but I would surmise that this reflects a few commonalities about their experiences. First, I suspect that these students all recognize that someone has selflessly been instrumental in directing the course of their lives towards something better and that they see the intrinsic value of this kind of action in the world. Secondly, I would surmise that these students also recognize the fact that education—particularly that at the university level—is a gift and a privilege to be shared and not hoarded. What better way to repay the debt than stand in a court room in defense of the defenseless?

This brings us to the diversity of challenges that these students have faced, which can be divided into two basic categories: external barriers and internal obstacles. In some circumstances the adults responsible for providing the guidance and structure necessary for a developing child were absent leaving that child to be the adult instead. In other cases, a void would have been preferable to the physical and verbal violence that polluted their daily lives. Some of my applicants freely admit that their hurdles were entirely self-afflicted. The choices they made for themselves contaminated their bodies and their prospects. Others found themselves dealing with physical constraints given to them by biology. Navigating the treacherous halls of high school is hard enough when you are “normal”. Things become surprisingly more difficult when glasses or crucial medication is unaffordable.

What I noted in nearly all of the students’ essays though was an absence of blame. They did not consider themselves victims of fate. Instead I saw in their words an acknowledgement that they were dealt a difficult hand, which was in turn a defining influence in their lives. They all hinted at the fact that their own personal experiences made them tougher, more determined, and more focused than they may have been otherwise.

I do not envy my panel of three who have to choose. All are worthy of the scholarship. What will happen next though is this group will look through the applications and decide which one, in their estimation, embodies the values and ideals of the scholarship most fully. It is important to remember that this is not intended to reward the student most capable of telling a heart-wrenching story about loss or the trials of adolescence. Nor is the amount of money raised by each applicant a determining factor; I removed the pledge sheet from each packet to prevent the judges from being swayed by it. The applicant will not be chosen by financial need either or even academic merit. Some provided a transcript, but I removed this as well for the same reasons. Instead the criterion is simply this: which one most clearly demonstrates the qualities of endurance in the face of challenges and appears to be the most likely candidate to continue to show perseverance in the future? The goal is to reward, motivate, and support a student who has developed forward momentum despite the obstacles they have faced.

My hope is that by Monday we will know who I have the honor of running for.

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Thursday was the deadline for the scholarship applications, and I received a total of ten, which was more than I was expecting. Although, I cannot share the specifics—due to privacy concerns—I do wish to illustrate the kinds of students who have applied for this money. Reading through their responses to the two essay questions, I noticed the following commonalities.

More than a few have come to recognize that the jump to a four year college or university is out their reach for a variety of reasons. As a result they plan on doing two years at a community college first. In some cases, the students know that they will need to complete the prerequisites necessary for entrance into their field of choice and that it makes the most financial sense to start at community college first where credits are few less expensive.

Beyond the cost of college, one of the themes that came through an overwhelming percentage of the applicants was the desire to use their degree to help others. Here there was a broad spectrum of aspirations: future business ventures designed to support low income families; child advocacy lawyers; EMT’s and paramedics; special education and ELL educators; nurses and family practitioners. It is purely speculation to guess about this, but I would surmise that this reflects a few commonalities about their experiences. First, I suspect that these students all recognize that someone has selflessly been instrumental in directing the course of their lives towards something better and that they see the intrinsic value of this kind of action in the world. Secondly, I would surmise that these students also recognize the fact that education—particularly that at the university level—is a gift and a privilege to be shared and not hoarded. What better way to repay the debt than stand in a court room in defense of the defenseless?

This brings us to the diversity of challenges that these students have faced, which can be divided into two basic categories: external barriers and internal obstacles. In some circumstances the adults responsible for providing the guidance and structure necessary for a developing child were absent leaving that child to be the adult instead. In other cases, a void would have been preferable to the physical and verbal violence that polluted their daily lives. Some of my applicants freely admit that their hurdles were entirely self-afflicted. The choices they made for themselves contaminated their bodies and their prospects. Others found themselves dealing with physical constraints given to them by biology. Navigating the treacherous halls of high school is hard enough when you are “normal”. Things become surprisingly more difficult when glasses or crucial medication is unaffordable.

What I noted in nearly all of the students’ essays though was an absence of blame. They did not consider themselves victims of fate. Instead I saw in their words an acknowledgement that they were dealt a difficult hand, which was in turn a defining influence in their lives. They all hinted at the fact that their own personal experiences made them tougher, more determined, and more focused than they may have been otherwise.

I do not envy my panel of three who have to choose. All are worthy of the scholarship. What will happen next though is this group will look through the applications and decide which one, in their estimation, embodies the values and ideals of the scholarship most fully. It is important to remember that this is not intended to reward the student most capable of telling a heart-wrenching story about loss or the trials of adolescence. Nor is the amount of money raised by each applicant a determining factor; I removed the pledge sheet from each packet to prevent the judges from being swayed by it. The applicant will not be chosen by financial need either or even academic merit. Some provided a transcript, but I removed this as well for the same reasons. Instead the criterion is simply this: which one most clearly demonstrates the qualities of endurance in the face of challenges and appears to be the most likely candidate to continue to show perseverance in the future? The goal is to reward, motivate, and support a student who has developed forward momentum despite the obstacles they have faced.

My hope is that by Monday we will know who I have the honor of running for.

Why Pledging?

Over the last few months I have explained to various students who are interested in the scholarship why it is that I require them to get people to pledge as part of the application process. My reasoning is something that is worth sharing discussing here, so I will try to make the case for this requirement as clearly as I am able.

First by way of explanation, the requirement is that students solicit pledges from at least five people. Their application is not considered complete until this condition is met. I will be clear with you, just as I was with them, that the amount is not the important issue and does not cause one applicant to be judged more favorably than another.

As for the reasoning, let me start with a little back story.

When the idea for this scholarship project started to take form in my mind, I was alone, running one of my various loops through the neighborhood. The concept was a bright and luminescent thing while it existed only between my ears. I feared sharing it with others because I was concerned that they would not see the brilliance as fully as I did. However, eventually I shared it with the one person who is continually my initial sounding board for all new ideas, my wife. She simply said that I should make it happen. There was no doubt. It was as if I suggested that I make some pasta for dinner. Go do it.

The following weekend I was out chasing down the end of a muddy trail with my two friends, Andrew and Andrew. For a while I held the idea back, fearing their response when I pitched it. I asked myself, “Will they really understand? Would they get it?” As we coursed through the Douglas firs, I eventually summoned the courage and told them of the idea. Not surprisingly, they too were instantly supportive. For the next half an hour or so, they were a sounding board, pummeling me with questions designed to probe and explore the idea. On that run, their queries and observations elucidated the fundamentals of the concept for me.

Some subsequent Monday, I joined my two counseling colleagues at a local restaurant for a post work Happy Hour. Emboldened by the positive support from my close inner circle, again I pitched the idea, and again I was met with encouragement and thoughtful insights. Like my wife, there was a collective affirmative voice saying, “Make it so.” And then, in that moment, I came to realize that I was losing the ability to back out of the venture. That initial glowing idea had not grown dull by sharing it; instead it only gained in radiance.

I believe it to be true that the more that we share a plan or goal, the more likely it is that we will achieve it. Simply by talking to people about the things that we want to attain, we accumulate a battery of people who—usually unintentionally—hold us accountable. This is one of the fundamental reasons why I ask my students to get people to make pledges. I want each student to talk about their plans with people and to tell them what they hope to achieve. Doing so cements for them what it is that they really want to do and develops a base of support. These people will ask, “Have you applied to colleges yet?” and in doing so remind the student that, well, they need to finish that stack of applications sitting on their desk.

By asking these applicants to request pledges, I am asking them to do more than beg for money. I am asking them solicit assistance and support. In considering this essay for the blog, I came to a strange little realization: five people—Mary, Mandy, Andrew, Andrew, and Carissa—were the critical mass that I needed to be motivated to transform a concept into a reality. Five is also the number of people that I am asking my students to get pledges from.

In fact this blog expands upon this very idea. Sharing the plan, the trials, and the successes both brings a wider circle into my own experience with this project as well as creates a broader base of people who will hold me accountable for my words and actions. As a result it embodies the very reason why I have asked the kids to be part of the pledging process.

So, thank you for motivating me.

Mantra

The courage to start.

The strength to endure.

The will to finish.

I am in the process of designing a t-shirt to wear for the race in two and a half weeks. Over the past few months, I have batted around various concepts. I needed a slogan, though—something that captured the spirit of the endeavor. A while back, my buddy sent me a quote which embodied the series of lines above. Those three phrases capture what I was looking for. Interesting enough, they also capture the spirit of one of my heroes—the explorer Ernest Shackleton whose ship was named The Endurance. Like no one else I know, he was a man who understood what it took to endure.

The courage to start. When Shackleton left England in 1914, it was his second trip to the Antarctic. He had led an initial expedition to the continent seven years earlier with the hope of being the first to reach the South Pole. He failed in that project, having come within just 112 miles of the objective. Just a few years after his failed venture, Norwegian Roald Amundsen would beat him to the prize. Therefore when Shackleton and his crew left in 1914, his objective was to attempt the first crossing of that continent. The advertisement that he placed in the paper to attract crew exemplifies the nature of the mission. It read: “Men wanted for hazardous journey, small wages, bitter cold, long months of complete darkeness, constant danger, safe return doubtful, honour and recognition in case of success”. Looking at his prospects, Shackleton saw with honest eyes the true nature of his task. Yet he stepped into it thoughtfully and courageously.

The strength to endure. I firmly believe that one’s character is exemplified, not when the going is good, but when conditions are harshest. Shackleton, his crew, and his ship were locked in sea ice before they even reached Antarctica. For 16 months they were adrift in the frozen ocean. Ultimately their vessel was crushed by the relentless forces of the ice and sank. Never-the-less they eventually reached solid ground by dragging immensely heavy sledges for miles over the windswept and broken ice floes. Shackleton remarked that what was so challenging about the experience was that for over a year, while they were living on the sea ice, nothing changed. They struggled against the same things again and again: cold, dark, wind, poor food, and mental exhaustion. Truly that man embodied the strength to endure. He also acknowledged that no one ever gets the conditions that he wants. As a result one has to deal with what he has. And purposefully deal himself a bad hand he did. When lots were cast for the best tents and sleeping bags, he rigged the lottery to ensure that he got the worst of the bunch. He chose to endure the harshest conditions, so his men would not have to.

The will to finish. Shackleton recognized that they could not live marooned at the bottom of the world interminably. No one was going to rescue them. A small group, including Shackleton, then sailed 800 miles over 15 days in a small open boat, without modern navigation equipment, and managed to land at South Georgia Island where there was a whaling station. The southern ocean between Tierra del Fuego and Antarctica is some of the most dangerous waters in the world due to consistently heavy seas and strong winds. Once the men reached land, they still had to cross unmapped and glaciated, mountainous terrain before they were back in civilization. Their expedition was, in the same stroke, one of the greatest failures and most sensational successes of all time. Every time the goal posts were moved for Shackleton, he demonstrated the will to finish whatever new task he was faced with.

I have pored over the various ultra-running forums searching for nuggets of advice. One that I plan to implement is using a mantra. The advice is simple: when the $#*! hits the fan, you just start repeating your phrase, focusing on it alone. For me that phrase will be “The courage to start. The strength to endure. The will to finish.” As I repeat this phrase, I will be thinking of Shackleton blasted by vicious winter winds at the ends of the Earth. In challenging circumstances he understood that focusing on the task at hand—not the finish line—was the only way to reach the finish line.

Range of Motion

Last night I lay on the floor to watch some t.v., which isn’t all that unusual, except I was flat on my back with my legs up on the wall. Sometimes I sit on the couch instead with one leg tucked up against the back pillow. Other times, I squat. Frequently I sit on the floor, leaning against the couch, with a rolling pin or lacrosse ball under my calf. Last night I was working on my hamstrings though. They were still tight from the long run over the weekend, and a leg up on the doorframe instead would have prevented me from watching NOVA.

This was not stretching. Instead I was trying to restore full range of motion (ROM), which is the degree of movement that can occur in a joint or the distance that an object can travel when attached to another object. I find that running leaves me tight in some very specific areas—hamstrings, lower back, and calves—the result being reduced stride length, inability to twist at the waist, and discomfort when I point my foot.

Physical therapists often work with their patients on range of motion. After my shoulder surgery, I was unable to externally rotate my left arm enough to put a jacket on with that limb first. The arm could not reach its full potential (no pun intended). Like every joint, every person has a full potential. The question is whether or not we are maximizing it or simply learning to live with the limits that are imposed unnecessarily.

I frequently have some permutation of the following conversation with many of my students:

Me: Aren’t you concerned about your ability to write clearly and fluently?

Student: I’m going to be a welder. I can make $40 an hour and will never need to write a thing.

Me: What if you get injured?

Student: What do you mean?

Me: What if something happens that prevents you from working as a welder?

Student: That won’t happen to me.

Make no mistake, I have a great deal of respect for welders or any other such trade. My problem is not with these students’ choices of employment but the limiting of their opportunity. They are purposefully reducing their range of motion.

Consider the following analogy. As an adult, perhaps married with a child or two, you are much like a limb. One part of you is intractably fixed at one point even as the rest of you maintains some degree of freedom. Now consider what happens if you suffer some kind of injury—not physically but metaphorically. Maybe the company you work for closes, and you lose your job. Your range of motion determines what you can arrive at next. A broader set of skills allows for a broader reach.

The irony is that from very early on we are encouraged to specialize as soon as individual talents are evident. We start perfecting repeated patterns of movement to the detriment of other movements or skills. I know boulderers (climbers who specialize in short, powerful routes) who can’t hike more than twenty minutes to crag despite their v-shaped torsos and crushing grip. The arms on runners are lean and strong like a Tyrannosaurus Rex, but when was the last time you saw a T-Rex do a pull-up? Strong writers abandon their pursuit of math skills leaving them sorely surprised when they discover that you can’t substitute an 8” loaf pan for a 9” one.

Range of motion is entirely about options. Like a joint we are all pinned down somewhere, by something. The choices that we make are dictated therefore by how far we can go despite the fixed point that inhibits us.

College increases range of motion. It offers us more than student loans. A post-secondary education—regardless of whether it is a state university, private institution, or community college—offers options allowing us to maximize our potential. Now try this. Lie down on the floor. Right now. Ok, maybe close the door first so no one thinks you are crazy. Now take one straight arm and raise it up over your head until your bicep grazes your ear. Your hand should touch the floor without you arching your back or bending at the elbow. If it doesn’t, you don’t have full range of motion. Now consider all of the things that have been out of reach because of this simple lack of ROM, and yet we accept it as normal. And, yes, you just executed a physical metaphor.

The next time you are watching t.v.—not doing anything, really—are you going to lie on the floor or just sprawl across the couch like a throw rug? Those students who are applying for this scholarship, they have decided to join me by tossing their legs up on the wall as well.

Q & A

Q & A: This past weekend, I completed a 60 kilometer/37 mile training run. In many ways it was a dry run for the race which is approaching in about one month. What follows are some questions that people have asked about the preparation as well as my answers. Hopefully this clarifies what my process for the run was.

Question: How long did it take you?

Answer: Time on my feet was 6 hours and 2 minutes. I ran 18 miles out and 19 back. The first half was 2:45. The second was 3:17. At the midpoint I met my wife, Carissa, who had refills of Gu and water as well as some food. This midpoint break was about 15 minutes (although I honestly didn’t keep accurate track of the time).

Question: What did you eat and drink during the run?

Answer: During the six hours I consumed 8 Gu (720 cal), 7 scoops of Perpetuum mixed with water (945 cal), a PB&J (about 430 cal), a serving of M&M’s (about 250 cal), potato chips (about 300 cal). This was approximately 2,600 calories—about half of the total calories burned. The total fluids consumed were about 2.5 quarts during the run. I also had a salt pill to replenish my electrolytes.

Question: How were your feet afterward?

Answer: Not good…not bad. I developed a blister on the ball of my foot about mile 7. I was not able to do anything about it until I met up with my wife when I was able to lance it and cover it with duct tape. The next day I noticed that I had two dime sized blood blisters on both “ring-finger” toes. I guess over 16,000 individual foot strikes will do that, even when the irritation is only minor. Fortunately I was able to also change my socks mid-way which helped.

Question: What about your legs?

Answer: Interestingly my hamstrings were tight day one, but on day two the soreness moved away from there and into my quads instead. Most of the really tender areas were in my hips though. As a whole, my legs felt pretty good. In previous marathons I have had trouble with stairs for a day or two. Not so this time. That said, the last hour plus of the run was pretty painful. I kind of felt like the bones in my legs were going to snap in two with each foot-strike.

Question: What do you think about for six hours?

Answer: Well, for the first three Andrew and had some pretty good conversations about politics, athletics, our social circle, etc. On the way back, we started to run separately for various reasons. Much of that time, I was alone. Even though I didn’t want to think about the discomfort I was feeling in my legs, it dominated much of my thoughts. I avoided looking at the mile markers too much. That really messes with your head. It was kind of like spending a night in a disgusting hotel room. You lie there in the dark; the clock moves very slowly. You try to not so much ignore the discomfort as come to terms with it. The last ten miles, I was feeling pretty bad. However, I tried to focus on my stride and accept the new baseline of pain. For most of the time, I was also running constant diagnostics on my body: How are my feet? Am I avoiding lactic acid build-up? Fluids ok? Do I need more fuel? What is my heart rate? If you have ever driven an old car where you spend as much time watching the oil pressure as the speedometer, it is kind of like that. You spend a fair amount of time wondering if and when you are going to blow a gasket.

Question: What will you do differently for the race?

Answer: First I need to change my shoes. I was wearing my older trail shoes, and they were a bit too beat up to support my feet for that long. As well, I think the blisters were a function of the uppers being too worn and soft. Secondly, I need to pace better. We ran the first half too fast. The half hour difference between sections is evidence of this. I also need to consume more water. I had limited supplies to work with as I had to carry everything for each half. At least in the race, I will be able to refill about every 7 or 8 miles if necessary. This should help me stay better hydrated.

Question: Did this training run provide you with the confidence that you will finish?

Answer: Not exactly. If anything I learned that I am growing rapidly as a long distance runner. The mistakes I made during my 50K run were not repeated. The minor problems that I had this time are all simple fixes. I have a strong plan and my fitness level is where it belongs. The only question that remains is the mental component. The race will be like tacking a half-marathon onto the end of this training run. At that point it will be a deeply psychological task; I can tell that already. Near Mount St. Helens there are these lava tubes that are essentially long caves. When you first step into them, you are reluctant to stray too far from the light coming through the opening. However, you go a hundred yards into the blackness and gain a little confidence. Ultimately, you need to leave the opening behind and trust that somewhere after the darkness is the exit hole. It becomes an exercise in controlling apprehension. The run is going to be a lot like that for me. The last couple hours will be wandering in the dark trying to manage the mental strain brought on by time and pain. I suppose that I will only have 100% confidence when I come to the finish line. But isn’t that true for most things in life?

Question: Have you figured out yet what this means, why you are doing this?

Answer: If you mean beyond the scholarship, then the answer is yes. At first this was purely a physical exercise. Could I train my body to execute this task? Somewhere along the line, the task took on a more mental or psychological aspect. I have been thinking a lot about athleticism recently and what constitutes a truly fit person. At first I thought that training for this would make me a fitter athlete. What I have come to realize is that I don’t think that has necessarily happened. I may be marginally stronger, but I am not aerobically better off. I was going to check my body fat percentage before and after, but I suspect now that it (sadly) hasn’t changed much. If anything, I think I am mentally fitter. I have a better sense of what my true limits are and have come to realize that I rarely push myself anywhere near the edge of those limits. Perhaps I now have a greater sense of confidence because I know now just how deeply I can dig when necessary.