5 miles

 5 miles, a kind of milestone distance. 5 miles means that I've gone more than 40 minutes and 40 minutes is the beginning of that twenty minutes sweet spot. That time when the body and mind finally agree that this is a worthwhile activity and reward me with an infusion of endorphins. 

At least that is what usually happens. Today, with this being the first journey into that realm, it was an exploratory journey. It has been a long time since 5 miles showed up on my Garmin. The number is not foreign to me but it has been a distant goal. 

5 miles, it brings with it the high of endorphins, but you must also earn the privilege of being there. Today was the badge earned, not the reward. Today was weeks of build up, cautious not to over tax and injure. Today was not the reward, but the accomplishment. 

5 miles, what once was a standard run has become the goal. I'm not saddened by that. I'm encouraged because there was a time, not too far in the past, that 500 meters was the challenge. 5 miles, a distance that would carry me from my home town to the next one. 5 miles, hell yes!

Olympic Trials 2016, part 2

A final reflection on the track and field trials.

 

The television shows us the winners, first, second and third place finishers, jubilant, excited. Today I witnessed fourth through eighth. As I waited in the recovery room where the athletes come after their event, I saw what Paul Harvey would say "is the rest of the story.”

 

For track and field athletes, the Olympic year is where they set their sites. Making an Olympic team in the eyes of many outside the track and field world means they are a success. There are far too many non-Olympians who go unrecognized for their successes.

 

As fourth through eighth entered the recovery area I saw red eyes from tears of disappointment, I saw an individual so exhausted from his race and years of training unable get up from the floor for nearly 30 minutes. I saw others who just stared into space, packing up their gear and disappearing out of the area.

Several of them spent what must have seemed like an eternity answering media questions like “What happened today?" "Were you pleased with your effort?” “What would you have done differently” “Was this your last race?” Everyone of them answered their questions with grace. How many million dollar athletes would be just as gracious after losing the Super Bowl, World Series, NBA championship? 

That’s one of the reasons I love track and field, the athletes are humble, appreciative and authentic.

Some of the first consolers of these fine athletes were their fellow athletes. Competitors just minutes prior, they now hugged, gave words in emotional solitude only they could impart and accept. There is a sorority/fraternity among these athletes built on the initiation of years of dedicated hard work in pursuing a common dream.

 

Each of these individuals are among the best in their field. Yet they will get minimal recognition. Most are subsiding on poverty wages from their chosen sport, relying on the generosity of family, friends and the world of online fundraising to pursue their dream. Though I was sad for them, I didn’t feel sorry for them. I knew they had family, friends, loved ones waiting to tell them how awesome they had performed, how proud they were of them. No, I didn’t feel sorry, I felt admiration. Admiration that they had the courage to pursue their dream. Putting careers, family, social life on hold to see what they could accomplish with the gift they possessed. How many of us can say we did they same?

 

These individuals are champions in their own right.

Olympic Trials 2016, part 1

 

After a week of watching reports of Americans murdering each other, I needed today.

I'm spending weekend volunteering as an anti-doping escort at the Olympic Track and Field Trials in Eugene. What that means is that I am assigned to a 1-4 place finisher of a finals event and when they came off the track I introduce myself then stay in visual contact with them until I can escort them to the drug testing area.

The experience allowed me up close observations of amazing physical and mental performance, viewing the spectrum of emotions that come with working for four years to either achieve a dream, see it slip away, be elated to be one of the best in your field.

I had the pleasure of escorting the 4th place finisher of the women’s javelin. Her last throw moved her into 4th missing making the US team by a meter, well below her personal best. As I stood my distance seeing her disappointment, receiving support from family and friends she remained tearfully gracious. A dream lost, but memories made. I hope she is able to soon feel pride in her ability and being one of the best in her profession.

I was honored to escort the 4th place finisher of the men’s 200m. A high school kid who set a high school record. His excitement and joy was infectious. I couldn’t help but smile, as I observed the other volunteers doing, as he made his way through the crowd, signing autographs, taking selfies with young fans. My wish for him was that he savored the moment, he is the future.

Finally, I witnessed the pure joy of dedication, hard work, mental toughness result in an unbelievable accomplishment, Bernard Lagat at age 41, out kicking runners 6 to 16 years younger in the 5000. This is a man who is beloved in the Eugene track world. I don’t think anyone expected him to place top 3. The noise that Hayward Field crowd displayed as he moved into first place in the final 100 meters was awesome. His joy, excitement when he crossed the finish line unparalleled at this Trials.

I needed today. We are sending an American team to the Olympics who some are Christian, but all are Americans. They are of many faiths, many colors, many backgrounds. I needed to know that Americans don’t murder each other. That we are a nation not for Christians, but a nation of humans. Humans who celebrate our achievements, who support us in our sorrows, who bring us hope for our future, who cheer for us no matter our faith, belief or color.

Tips on running when you're an old fart

 1.    Start slow. Your muscles aren't as forgiving and need time to adjust to being on the move. Make that first mile nice and easy. You're not going to impress anyone with your speed anyway.

2.     More easy days. It sucks, but your body takes more time to recover, especially from a hard run. Either a couple of easy days of running, a rest day or better yet cross train.

3.    Increasing your mileage takes longer. I mean months, not weeks! Increase your weekend long run after you've run it 4 or 5 weeks. Same with your weekly mileage, slow progress equals long term success.

4.    Remember the good ol days but don't expect similar results. Accept the fact you're slowing down, don't compare current yourself with your younger self. New goal is longevity.

5.    Birthday years and running years, celebrate both.