exquisite training for life
Every once in a while, unbeknownst to anyone, I slip out late at night and go for a run.
Sometimes, I run just for fun, cruising along, enjoying each step, and soaking up the sights and sounds as my feet hit the pavement.
Sometimes, I pound out intervals on the track.
Sometimes, I run at a tempo pace.
Sometimes, I race with my competitor’s number tightly folded and pinned to my shorts, my custom since I first toed the line back in the mid-1970’s.
This past Monday night, I was on the road again.
My route took me from near the intersection of Ridge and Forest toward the University of Richmond.
Once on campus, I headed along the Westhampton side of the lake, over the undulating landscape, out the main gate, and up Snake Hill, a topographic monstrosity that makes my legs scream if I put the pedal down.
Shorten stride, I reminded myself as I began my ascent. Be one with the terrain. Work your arms. Look a few meters ahead rather than all the way to the top.
Difficult challenges are a vital part of life and best met one step at a time. Respect them, deal with them, don’t fear them, and never, ever let them defeat you.
My reward for reaching the crest was a feeling of satisfaction and a relatively smooth stretch along Three Chopt that carried me around the Village Shopping Center onto Patterson and smack into a westerly wind.
I was soon back in a rhythm, though, crossed the wide intersection at Forest, and ran carefully along the narrowing shoulder as cars and trucks whizzed past.
As I’m inclined to do, I’d ventured out too far, and in a couple of minutes, I’d face that uphill at Parham.
Just run, I told myself over and over. No excuses. Find a way, even if your legs give out and you have to crawl.
A few moments later, I was at the top and heading south.
There was no shoulder, so I ran for 100 meters or so along the asphalt, the curb to my left, traffic just inches away on the right.
Whew! Close call. Life is fraught with close calls.
Then, it was left on Ridge, a brief downhill with the wind finally at my back, one last right turn, and past the same, familiar mailbox that marks the end of my workout.
Run through the finish. Always run through the finish.
With sweat dripping onto the pavement, I walked to the corner.
The loop was complete.
What a feeling of accomplishment!
What a thrill it is to be a runner!
Only…I haven’t run in more than 5 years.
An arthritic hip and titanium replacement have relegated me to the sideline.
The scene I just described was a dream.
Not wishful thinking, mind you, just a dream, one that invariably occurs when the cross country guys I coach reach the championship phase of our season as we have this week.
Sure, I’d love to set off for real on a long, thought-inducing Sunday run rather than take what some might call a power walk.
Sure, I’d love to run with my team as I did for almost 30 years rather than coach from a bicycle.
Sure, I’d love to race again, but I can’t worry about what I can’t change. I can’t look back, other than to see my mistakes, profit from them, and teach the guys who share the adventure with me not to make the same ones.
I’m still a runner, though, because I figured out long ago that running is much more than just some recreational activity.
It’s a test of will and endurance.
It challenges your resolve.
It’s a mindset, an attitude.
It’s exquisite training for life.
