Many people don't understand why we run, and, more often than not, we
are at a loss when it comes to articulating a response. This is even
more true when those asking decide to cling to their predetermined
loathing of our sport. We simply cannot provide a comprehensive and
lucid reason without delving into euphemisms and the ethereal, and
astute antagonists will often point this out with their own anecdotal
evidence to support such contrarian views.
Their loss.
Euphemisms aside, the minutia of our daily runs make them worth the while.
Noticing
the flora and fauna, greeting the mail carriers, feeling the changes of
the seasons; these are all such integral parts of life, and yet they
tend to go unnoticed without something like a monotonous daily run to
force them into view.
Big races, PR's, and physical milestones
seem to warrant all the attention, but yesterday's run illustrated that
the daily grind might just have some of the most important, if not the
most subtle benefits.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Standard?
One of the little wonders of life is that seemingly identical situations
can have an almost infinite number of outcomes. This is illustrated
well with the limitless experiences that are possible on a single route
run day after day after day.
Perhaps such an observation is obvious, but Monday's run brought this presumably self-evident concept to the fore.
It was the same standard route around town, a variant of which is generally run three or four times per week.
It was the same standard weather for this time of year, which around here means hot and humid enough to have your forearms dripping within minutes of starting the run.
It was the same standard time of day, usually meaning a slowly waning volume of traffic.
The specifics of the run aren't important; it could be any route to which you've grown almost monotonously accustomed on any given day, the "everyman" of runs. (I suppose the achievement of such an "everyman" of runs is a deep and hard-earned concept, but that's an entirely different post...)
Regardless of when or where it all occurred, it was the seemingly standard variances that paradoxically made it noteworthy: a careless right on red, a couple out walking the dog, some friends out for an afternoon walk. These are the things that force ever-so-slight changes in an otherwise average run and thus transform the standard into the deviation.
A wide swing or a tight turn can provide vantage points and observations counter to the norm; who knew this stretch of yard was incongruously overgrown or that the small hanging branch that was such an annoyance during the winter could have such beautiful buds in the summer?
An ornery ankle or dead legs might be grounds for assuming it just wasn't a good day, but how gratifying is it to know that you toughed it out, and isn't there value in having the not-as-easy days as a basis of comparison...?
The wandering thoughts are endless and inevitably lead to a challenge of the definition or assignment of the term "standard." What is a standard run? Who sets said standard? When did I/he/she/they/we define this elusive standard?
Alas, before all the answers to these questions, along with the countless others that arose, could be adequately answered, the run was over, leaving the mysteries of the universe to be pondered on another "standard" run.
...and if all this is from just one run, the extrapolation out to the rest of life is all the more entrancing...
Perhaps such an observation is obvious, but Monday's run brought this presumably self-evident concept to the fore.
It was the same standard route around town, a variant of which is generally run three or four times per week.
It was the same standard weather for this time of year, which around here means hot and humid enough to have your forearms dripping within minutes of starting the run.
It was the same standard time of day, usually meaning a slowly waning volume of traffic.
The specifics of the run aren't important; it could be any route to which you've grown almost monotonously accustomed on any given day, the "everyman" of runs. (I suppose the achievement of such an "everyman" of runs is a deep and hard-earned concept, but that's an entirely different post...)
Regardless of when or where it all occurred, it was the seemingly standard variances that paradoxically made it noteworthy: a careless right on red, a couple out walking the dog, some friends out for an afternoon walk. These are the things that force ever-so-slight changes in an otherwise average run and thus transform the standard into the deviation.
A wide swing or a tight turn can provide vantage points and observations counter to the norm; who knew this stretch of yard was incongruously overgrown or that the small hanging branch that was such an annoyance during the winter could have such beautiful buds in the summer?
An ornery ankle or dead legs might be grounds for assuming it just wasn't a good day, but how gratifying is it to know that you toughed it out, and isn't there value in having the not-as-easy days as a basis of comparison...?
The wandering thoughts are endless and inevitably lead to a challenge of the definition or assignment of the term "standard." What is a standard run? Who sets said standard? When did I/he/she/they/we define this elusive standard?
Alas, before all the answers to these questions, along with the countless others that arose, could be adequately answered, the run was over, leaving the mysteries of the universe to be pondered on another "standard" run.
...and if all this is from just one run, the extrapolation out to the rest of life is all the more entrancing...
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Horseflies
The first few miles had gone as
well as could be expected for a Tuesday afternoon this time of year. A
mile or so had been spent shaking out the cobwebs that had developed
through another day at work, and the Southern humidity had been true to
form having all those daring to be out of doors wringing wet within a
very few minutes.
Left foot, right foot....
No surprises to be found on the course that so many know so well. Up the first little rise, dance through the first series of rocks, make the next turn... Even the consistently ordered series of smells found along the course, ranging from the cut grass of the adjacent golf course to the sun-baked organics of the nearby landfill, came and went in predictable fashion.
Left foot, right foot...
Just another run on another steamy day, until, of course, the horsefly made its presence known....
Coming through the last little bit of the course, the buzzing of flies seemed a bit more cacophonous than usual. At first, this did little more than create a brief note in the already stalling internal monologue.
Soon enough, however, the quick back of the arm sting of one of Creation's miserable creatures snapped me out of my near stupor back into the reality of the present. A quick swat easily dislodged the beast, which proceeded to harass me until I had vacated his territory, which extended far beyond what one would expect for such an animal. He returned to his guard post by the bush should I have the audacity to return...
As everyone knows, a horsefly bite isn't life-altering; it's not even really noteworthy most of the time; it's more of just a general annoyance.
But to a runner falling victim to the doldrums of the routine, a horsefly can be an ironic source of enlivenment. For the next 8 or 9 miles, I was awake, present, in the moment. The thought of the horsefly had vanished within minutes, but the effect was long-lasting. It was quite refreshing to be back engaged in the activity.
In a seemingly odd way, this annoyance of nature had reminded me of the joy inherent in running. It can be so monotonous at times, but the occasional jolt of sensation can remind us of the wonders around us and bring us back to experiencing the run of the moment rather than the mental tire-spinning of a so-called "boring" run.
I just hope I can remember this without having to find any more horseflies...
Left foot, right foot....
No surprises to be found on the course that so many know so well. Up the first little rise, dance through the first series of rocks, make the next turn... Even the consistently ordered series of smells found along the course, ranging from the cut grass of the adjacent golf course to the sun-baked organics of the nearby landfill, came and went in predictable fashion.
Left foot, right foot...
Just another run on another steamy day, until, of course, the horsefly made its presence known....
Coming through the last little bit of the course, the buzzing of flies seemed a bit more cacophonous than usual. At first, this did little more than create a brief note in the already stalling internal monologue.
Soon enough, however, the quick back of the arm sting of one of Creation's miserable creatures snapped me out of my near stupor back into the reality of the present. A quick swat easily dislodged the beast, which proceeded to harass me until I had vacated his territory, which extended far beyond what one would expect for such an animal. He returned to his guard post by the bush should I have the audacity to return...
As everyone knows, a horsefly bite isn't life-altering; it's not even really noteworthy most of the time; it's more of just a general annoyance.
But to a runner falling victim to the doldrums of the routine, a horsefly can be an ironic source of enlivenment. For the next 8 or 9 miles, I was awake, present, in the moment. The thought of the horsefly had vanished within minutes, but the effect was long-lasting. It was quite refreshing to be back engaged in the activity.
In a seemingly odd way, this annoyance of nature had reminded me of the joy inherent in running. It can be so monotonous at times, but the occasional jolt of sensation can remind us of the wonders around us and bring us back to experiencing the run of the moment rather than the mental tire-spinning of a so-called "boring" run.
I just hope I can remember this without having to find any more horseflies...
Sunday, June 23, 2013
A Simple Question
A friend of mine emailed me this question the other day, and when I
got done with my reply, I had written far more than I intended. I know
it's a topic that has been tossed around in various forms time and time again, but I figured I'd put it out there for others to mull over.
The question is that of talent. If you are so inclined, take a look at the
original question and response and chime in with your own thoughts...**************************************************
Sent: 6/20/2013 22:43
To: John Nevels
Subject: Question.
How much of running is talent. I hear this word thrown around. How much "talent" is there in placing one foot in front of the other? How much of it is training and dedication. "consistency is key," right? How much of running (from the 5k and on up to ultras) is really dependent on "talent". Just curious. What is stopping me from being a sub 2:30 marathoner besides an extra 150 lbs and Bruce Denton? Feel free to ask around haha....
**************************************************
From: John Nevels <jrn47again@gmail.com>
Date: Sat, Jun 22, 2013 at 4:57 PM
Subject: Re: Question.
Generally, by and large, "talent" is a copout word used by people who don't want to put in the work.
That said, there are definitely some anatomical and
physiological advantages to be had when it comes to running, some of
which are determined by genetics, and some by environmental factors
outside of your control.
That said, I think that the farther you go, the more
training takes precedent over "talent." An aptitude to be in the
Olympic 100m dash is determined at birth, and the rest of us just have
to suck it. I'll never be able to do what Usain Bolt does, and I
couldn't even come close, regardless of how much I tried. On the other
hand, I fully believe I could be in the same ballpark and competitive
with, say, Anton, if I were willing to put in the work he has. I'm not,
and most people aren't. Obviously, Bolt and Anton are the extreme ends
of the spectrum, and I think there is a full continuum of training vs
talent in between, but I really think that the vast, vast majority of it
all is training.
As some anecdotal evidence, I weighed the same at age 11
as I did at age 20 (a rather substantial height difference, though).
For being over 6 feet tall, I've got relatively short legs, and I'll
never be as lean as the Kenyans. I started as the slowest person on my
XC team (like, girls and all) and have finished DFL more than once. My
freshman year, my 5k's started around 27 minutes (which was much faster
than when I was in middle school, when I was thrilled beyond measure to
hit a 28:xx, and the slowest 5k I remember being a 45 as a kid). I
would have been a prime candidate to play the "no talent" card and give
up. With this as a background, it almost personally offends me when
people claim no talent, and it DOES personally offend me when most
people tell me that they would love to do the running I do, but that I'm
clearly far more talented than they are, so they're not going to beat
me; I've put in too much work to attribute this to a simple natural
gift. I worked my butt off over the rest of high school to end up with a
high school PR of 16:57 and be on the still-standing school record
4x800m team, then keep on going to do this ultra nonsense. I understand
that a 400-pounder is probably not going to beat me in a 5k, but a
large part of this is due to previous choices that have lead to the
current condition, as well as the mental state that is generally present
in such instances. I understand that some people have huge frames and
don't respond as well to training, but this discrepancy in purely
natural aptitude gets smaller as the distances get larger. As a point
of note, I should probably state the fact that I'm NOT a fast
ultrarunner; based on relative results, I'm a far better 5k-er and
10k-er than ultrarunner; the simple fact that I've finished certain
events and distances (read: been willing to complete) makes some people
*think* I'm a good ultrarunner.
Talent in the (distance) running world is USUALLY used the same way that luck is used in the rest of life. A copout. People don't want to recognize that they can do these things, run these times, cover these distances, accomplish these cool feats, because once they recognize the capability, it's entirely on them. They can't blame it on talent or parents or luck. They have to own up that they aren't willing to put in the work. I take full responsibility for not being like Anton or Meltzer or Roes. I think most people would rather blame their knees.
Talent in the (distance) running world is USUALLY used the same way that luck is used in the rest of life. A copout. People don't want to recognize that they can do these things, run these times, cover these distances, accomplish these cool feats, because once they recognize the capability, it's entirely on them. They can't blame it on talent or parents or luck. They have to own up that they aren't willing to put in the work. I take full responsibility for not being like Anton or Meltzer or Roes. I think most people would rather blame their knees.
All that said, running, like you said, is a simple act.
One foot in front of the other; how bad could it be? The paradox is
part of the beauty of the challenge. It's something so simple, but so
difficult.
Dang... I didn't mean to write a dissertation or a sermon
there. My bad.... (...it was at this point that I realized I shouldda
just said, 'yeah'...)
Thursday, June 20, 2013
The Slow Down
It was a beautiful, sunny day.
Temperatures
were in the upper 80's, a few wisps of clouds hovered high in their
ever-temporal fashion, and an oh-so-slight breeze danced through the
city streets.
The
pace was pretty relaxed; a friend had sent a message earlier asking
about the possibility of a run after work, and such an idea sounded
marvelous, even after a tiring day. Truth be told, the lack of speed
was an unexpected blessing, allowing the true nature of the day to soak
in and replace the wearisome tenor that various circumstances and
revelations of the day had caused it to assume.
Sometimes
we need such a slow down to get us back into a disposition that allows
us to take in the marvels of the world around us, to seek refuge from
the
brooding outlook that is all too often forced upon us. Often times it
proves difficult to reign in the speed of our runs, much less our lives
and our world, even when we nominally make the effort; our slow runs
paradoxically turn out to be yet another chore through which we rush in
an effort to get to the next item on the list. Our overly-filled,
scheduled, planned, and regulated days have all too often caused us to
miss the true benefits and beauty of the slow down.
A few easy miles on a warm, clear day can work wonders that are beyond the understanding of an air-conditioned mind working at 100 gigabytes per second.
Lessons of the slow down are easy to pick up, if we'll only take the time to try.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Sometimes
Sometimes it's fun to step out there and show the new(er) runners that there's still a little fire left the furnace.
That fire doesn't necessarily burn in any one particular hue. Sometimes it's the color of a fast run; sometimes it's the color of long run; sometimes it's just the color of accrued running wit and wisdom. Every time it's the color of hard fought shades earned over the course of miles and miles and miles.
We've all had these little flashes. Sometimes they are more noticeable than others, and sometimes they only serve to remind us that perhaps we should stoke up the flames again.
The ways in which we burn are specific to each one of us, but all of us put forth a radiant energy. Sometimes it's noticed, sometimes it's absorbed, and sometimes it's even reflected by others.
Sometimes we just need a reminder of the fires that burn within...
That fire doesn't necessarily burn in any one particular hue. Sometimes it's the color of a fast run; sometimes it's the color of long run; sometimes it's just the color of accrued running wit and wisdom. Every time it's the color of hard fought shades earned over the course of miles and miles and miles.
We've all had these little flashes. Sometimes they are more noticeable than others, and sometimes they only serve to remind us that perhaps we should stoke up the flames again.
The ways in which we burn are specific to each one of us, but all of us put forth a radiant energy. Sometimes it's noticed, sometimes it's absorbed, and sometimes it's even reflected by others.
Sometimes we just need a reminder of the fires that burn within...
Saturday, May 4, 2013
My Week On The Run...
Another week in the books... A slight build from last week, but that's fine; in my mind, the name of the game at this point is staying healthy, so fewer miles is not big deal... That said, since it was such a slight build, I might try for one more high mileage week before tapering down. We shall see, I suppose...
Also, I managed to re-name the facebook page for the upcoming run to Sumatanga:
https://www.facebook.com/RunningHomeToSumatanga
The miles:
Sunday (4/28):
9
1:16:12
4 before youth easy, 5 after very easy with Aaron.
Monday (4/29):
10
1:17:08
Legs a little heavy to start, but loosened up nicely.
More traffic than usual; road work on Holmes to dodge.
Tuesday (4/30):
14
1:59:05
10 solo (1:18:09), then 4 easy with Anna. Felt fine; legs a little dead at the end.
Wednesday (5/1):
7
52:35
3 before youth (22:24) and 4 after with Aaron. Easy effort with quickened pace toward the ends of both runs.
Thursday (5/2):
6
46:41
TN River really high, so flooded parts of Pt. Mallard trail around ankle-shin deep. First time a fish of any appreciable size has ever had to swim out of my way while running...
Friday (5/3):
6
46:22
Easy around Huntsville. Very windy.
Saturday (5/4):
12
1:24:15
AM: 1 mile warmup, then Steeple Chase 8k (30:30, 2nd o/a). Cold and wet. Moderate effort.
PM: 6 (45:11) easy around Oak Lea
Weekly Totals:
64 miles
8:22:18
Also, I managed to re-name the facebook page for the upcoming run to Sumatanga:
https://www.facebook.com/RunningHomeToSumatanga
The miles:
Sunday (4/28):
9
1:16:12
4 before youth easy, 5 after very easy with Aaron.
Monday (4/29):
10
1:17:08
Legs a little heavy to start, but loosened up nicely.
More traffic than usual; road work on Holmes to dodge.
Tuesday (4/30):
14
1:59:05
10 solo (1:18:09), then 4 easy with Anna. Felt fine; legs a little dead at the end.
Wednesday (5/1):
7
52:35
3 before youth (22:24) and 4 after with Aaron. Easy effort with quickened pace toward the ends of both runs.
Thursday (5/2):
6
46:41
TN River really high, so flooded parts of Pt. Mallard trail around ankle-shin deep. First time a fish of any appreciable size has ever had to swim out of my way while running...
Friday (5/3):
6
46:22
Easy around Huntsville. Very windy.
Saturday (5/4):
12
1:24:15
AM: 1 mile warmup, then Steeple Chase 8k (30:30, 2nd o/a). Cold and wet. Moderate effort.
PM: 6 (45:11) easy around Oak Lea
Weekly Totals:
64 miles
8:22:18
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