A spoonful of masochism

It's been a punishing few days at work. First, the HiLite website went down on Friday, the same day the paper came out. Then, I faced the ire of some upset readers after they read a particularly sensitive staff editorial. What's interesting is I had control over none of this. The staff's Web team is in charge of the nuts and bolts of the site and the staff editorial was decided upon and written by the student editorial board. Regardless, as the adviser of the newspaper, I'm in a unique position; I'm directly responsible for nothing yet I'm indirectly responsible for everything. And as a visible first line of defense, I often get to feel the brunt of the scrutiny that is an inevitable part of the job.

But rather than lashing out at others, I responded this weekend with a bit of self-punishment in the form of some pretty serious workouts. I've responded this way for a long time. My earliest memory of "therapy via exercise" was in early college after my girlfriend of two and a half years and I broke up. I was devastated to be sure, but rather than wallow in my misery, I hit the gym. There was something about pushing my body to its physical limits that allowed me to clear my head and mellow the pain and inner turmoil I was feeling. I would come out on the other side of those workouts tired, drenched in sweat, often unable to lift my arms above my head, but somehow feeling better than when I went in.

Since those early days, I've found a true therapeutic benefit to exercise. Don't misunderstand me; I'm not suggesting that I somehow damage myself or my health via these bouts of exercise. Rather, I use the inner pain or confusion as motivation to push myself externally. And when I emerge on the other side, it's a sense of renewal I feel. It's a feeling that's akin, I imagine, to a Native American who completes a vision quest, albeit without all the peyote or the near-death experiences.

It's always been difficult for me to admit when situations are beyond my control. I understand that concept, but I don't embrace it, and as that sage Tom Petty sang, it's the waiting that's the hardest part—the waiting for the situation to resolve itself, the waiting for the reaction that I know will come, the waiting for a time when I won't think about the problem during every waking minute. So I find activities to fill that time. Exercise seems the logical choice, and it's rarely failed me.

This weekend was no exception. After a 10-mile run yesterday and a one-hour weight workout followed by a five-mile run today, I came home to find that the website's back online and the sponsor of the club who was upset over the editorial e-mailed me to let me know, while she still doesn't agree with the viewpoint, she understands the process and the students' right to publish that opinion.

And I feel better. While the problems in my life won't ever stop or completely go away, it's good to know I've found a way to cope—a healthy way, that is. While I can't control every situation, I can control how I respond to those situations.

Happy running.

The soundtrack of my life

For years, Saturdays have traditionally been my "long" days for running. I look forward all week to a few free hours when I can escape from the world to let the wind blow through my hair—or, well, buffet my bald head at least.

Still, when the big day arrives, it's difficult to get past the inevitable monotony of it all. No matter how much I like being by myself with my thoughts (see previous posts), 10 miles or more on the road or the treadmill is a long time to listen, even to the dulcet tones of my own inner voice. Which is why I have embraced the advent of the personal music device.

Back in high school I carried, by today's standards, what would be considered a giant Walkman tape player. It was good, but its limitations of only allowing for one tape at a time soon became evident. That device was soon replaced with a set of radio headphones that gave more music options, if only you could push through the steady stream of commercials or manage to tilt your head just so to avoid frequent interruptions of static.

But regardless of limitations, I was hooked by the thought of carrying my music library wherever I went. In fact, I would argue that the mp3 player is one of the most significant inventions for today's distance runner. Since those early days I've owned a litany of music devices, most of them from the iPod collection. They all work well to some extent, but prolific sweat and occasional drops on the pavement give my mp3 players a rather short shelf life.

Except for one, that is. Originally, the mp3 player I still carry was a gift for my wife. It's one of the first generation iPod Shuffles, the white kind that's about the size of a pack of gum. I gave it to her when our second son was born about four and a half years ago. It remained in the box long enough for me to realize that, while it was a good gift, it wasn't going to be part of my wife's exercise regimen. So I inherited it, and I have used it ever since.

Which leads me back to my original discussion about my Saturday long runs. It seems no matter how many songs I can put on my iPod, by Mile 6 or 7 they all seem boring and worn out. Motivational songs that work during the week no longer have their same luster. My solution is to save songs back. About every third week, I open iTunes and "rediscover" my music library. I find songs I haven't heard in months or years, and I put them on my iPod, replacing those old tunes that no longer work. It's a plan that seems to do the trick. I've never run out of inspirational songs, one reason being that by the time I'm done with the current tunes on my iPod, I've had the old ones off for so long I'm able to rediscover them. It's recycling at its best.

Something I've learned over the years is even the best runners find it difficult to get motivated from time to time. Trust me, I've been there more times than I'd like to count. But as a music lover, this is a solution that works for me. It's an opportunity for "me" time where I can listen to my music as loud as I want, and no one's there to judge or tell me to turn it down or turn it off.

I have read articles from runners who bemoan the advent of the music player, saying it takes away from the beauty and serenity of nature. While I can see their point, it doesn't prevent me from carrying my iPod wherever I go, for while there certainly is serenity and peace in nature, I've sort of grown used to seeing that same nature with my own personal soundtrack. While at times the two may be incongruent, there are moments, albeit fleeting moments, when the scenery and the song match together beautifully, when the music helps me transcend my body and my thoughts and takes me to another plane. It's those moments that I grasp hold of like a barnacle on a boat bottom. It's those moments that keep me coming back for more.

Happy running.

Live life to the fullest

As I reel from today's underwhelming announcement of the new Apple iPad (Really, Steve Jobs? The iPad? Seriously?), I am drawn to areas that make me feel better — not the least of which is running. And this provides me with an opportunity to discuss Reason #436 (these are in no particular order) of why I like running: To help me live a fuller life.

This information should come as no surprise to anyone, but, as it turns out, keeping fit is even better than doctors first thought. On Jan. 26, Time magazine reported the following: "Now a series of independently conducted studies on the effects of exercise in healthy older adults, published on Monday in the Archives of Internal Medicine, confirms that logging time at the gym not only helps maintain good health but may even prevent the onset of chronic diseases, such as heart disease, osteoarthritis and dementia." (Read the full article HERE).

I'll be perfectly honest and confess that old age scares the crap out of me and I want to do everything I can to stave off its effects. I don't want to spend my retirement in a chair or a bed, unable to live independently, unable to recognize my loved ones. So I do what I can to keep those potential problems at bay. I understand, of course, that old age is inevitable, as I understand that with old age comes certain inevitable "deteriorations," for lack of a better term. Still, I refuse to go gently into that good night, to borrow from poet Dylan Thomas.

But these studies give me hope. As I near 40, I am encouraged by my own level of fitness. I am heartened as well by the numbers of older runners who fill the starting lines of races I run (and who kick my butt, too).

But what also gives me hope are words from older, wiser runners than me. As I mentioned in my previous blog, I've been reading Haruki Murakami's book What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. Here's a man who's nearing 60 who runs more now than he ever did when he was younger. Murakami puts it better than me. "Most runners run not because they want to live longer, but because they want to live life to the fullest," he writes. "If you're going to while away the years, it's far better to live them with clear goals and fully alive than in a fog...Exerting yourself to the fullest within your individual limits: that's the essence of running, and a metaphor for life...I believe many runners would agree."

Yes we do, Mr. Murakami. Yes. We. Do.

Happy running.

Talking about running with one who knows

I've been waiting all day to share this. I'm in the midst of a new favorite book: Haruki Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. A novelist and long-distance runner, Murakami writes less about how to run and more about how to live life. Nearing 60 and with 30+ years of running under his belt, the man has my ear. His writing puts voice to what I've tried for so long to explain to those who don't understand my strange (dare I say insane?) desire to run.

Consider this excerpt, for example: "I'm the kind of person who likes to be by myself. To put a finer point on it, I'm the type of person who doesn't find it painful to be alone. I find spending an hour or two every day running alone, not speaking to anyone...to be neither difficult nor boring."

And this: "When I'm running I don't have to talk to anybody and don't have to listen to anybody. All I need to do is gaze at the scenery passing by. This is the part of my day I can't do without."

For Murakami, and for me, running is almost zen-like. "No matter how mundane some action might appear," he writes, "keep at it long enough and it becomes a contemplative, even meditative act."

The world got you down? Try this: "When I'm criticized unjustly, or when someone I'm sure will understand me doesn't, I go running for a little longer than usual. By running longer it's like I can physically exhaust that portion of my discontent. It also makes me realize how weak I am, how limited my abilities are. I become aware, physically, of these low points."

Murakami seems to speak directly to me, or through me. He is wise, this man. Then again, perhaps he was destined to write as he was to run. After all, he writes, "People basically become runners because they're meant to."

A wise man, indeed.

Happy reading, and happy running.

Best laid plans

I had every intention of getting up this morning to just crush a long run. I've had a good weekend so far — 5 miles Friday night followed by a quick 5-miler outside yesterday.

But now, once again, the unpredictability of life has gotten in the way.

I planned to awaken early before everyone got up to hit the country roads just beyond my neighborhood — a nice hour out and an hour back — but the sound of hard rain and strong wind gusts at my bedroom window scuttled my plans. Fine, I thought, I'll sleep a bit longer and hit the gym. Foiled again, this time by a promise I remembered I gave my son to go to the bookstore so he could spend the gift certificate that's been burning a hole in his pocket since Christmas.

So I'll go after the bookstore, right? Wrong. Damn those cursed Indianapolis Colts and their 3 p.m. game and my neighbor with his brand new 62-inch HDTV twisting my arm (okay, he didn't have to twist all that hard).

And after the game? Maybe. But by then it'll be dark, the gym will be closing and I won't be able to get in much more than three miles or so. Plus the fact that my wife will have been with the kids the whole time I'll be watching the game.

And so the day has slipped away before it has even begun.

At least I've found time to blog.

Happy running.

The mind matters

What do you visualize to get pumped up during a run?

I ask because I think my visualization's kind of silly, but it does the trick. When I'm getting worn down in the middle of a long distance, I imagine it's the end of the Olympic marathon. I'm the underdog. Everyone's counted me out. The favorite enters the Olympic stadium for the last lap and a half of the 26.2—you know, the "victory lap" portion of the race. There's a polite cheer. He gets the first 100 under his belt and he starts to round the first turn.

Then there's a roar as I burst through the tunnel. My eyes are focused. I'm breathing hard.

And I am haulin' ass.

It's about here that I tee up my favorite kick-ass tune. (My faves are "Fever Dream" from the "300" soundtrack and "Guns" from "The Rundown." Check 'em out on iTunes and you'll see what I'm talking about.)

My pace gets faster. The favorite, he hears the cheer and he looks back at me. At first he's dismissive—he's so far ahead—but then he sees that I'm gaining on him. He tries to go faster but it's not happening. I'm too quick. His lead dwindles...quickly. Just before the last turn, we're about 20 yards apart. By the end of the turn, I'm breathing down his neck. The finish line looms in front of us. The crowd's going nuts. We're neck and neck, trading the lead.

And then, right near the end, I look over at him. He looks at me. His eyes are wide. He's giving everything he's got and he knows I know it.

That's when I smile, find another gear...and win the race.

Told you it was silly, but it works.

So what say you, blogosphere? What do you visualize? I'd love to hear it.

Happy running.

Hello, outside, my old friend

For those of you who have slacked a bit on resolutions to get in shape, note that this marks the beginning of a three-day weekend, and that presents a new opportunity to ramp up efforts to get, and stay, fit.

That being said, it's amazing the rejuvenating power of the great outdoors.

Today was my first day running outside for...well...I can't tell you how long. It was still a bit chilly, a bit damp, a bit foggy—"fuzzy," a friend's daughter once called it—but the roads were clear. Finally. After five miles on the treadmill last night, I didn't think I could take another day of staring at my reflection in the window. So I laced up and headed outside.

It was glorious. All of the stars had aligned, it seemed, to allow me the perfect running conditions. I had dressed perfectly—shorts, a Dri-Fit undershirt, a long-sleeve shirt over that, gloves, a headband to keep my ears warm. I used my new Ironman watch, a Christmas gift, to keep mile splits. The music on my iPod kept hitting the right tunes at the right time (a little Paul Oakenfold, a little Prodigy, a whole lot of Girl Talk)...

...and I flew. Or I felt like I was flying at least. The miles ticked by and I got stronger. I kept track (thanks to the watch): Mile 1—8:30, Mile 2—8:27, Mile 3—8:25. And so on. Mile after mile.

I had planned to run six or seven miles. In the end, I ran 10. My time on that last mile? 8:00.

It's supposed to rain tomorrow, but I'm not planning to let that deter me. I've gotten a taste of the great outdoors. And I'm hungry for more.

Happy running.