Back to Training 2
Winter training is tough. Training through life in winter is tougher. This week brought a dose of reality to the fantasy life I create in all those long, solo runs. I’m not in “this” alone. As a runner and inward leaning delicately constructed egoist, I find it too easy to forget about others. I go it alone, thinking of my needs and discarding the needs of others. Such a narrow view of me makes for some serious conversations with family, friends, and colleagues that my fragile confidence has a difficult time processing.
I think I’m worse in my loner ways since the pandemic started. In 2020, we were all trying to figure life out after the lock down. I did a deep dive into running. In the many miles I ran, I discovered a motivation to run ultras and went from being a standard introvert to something worse. The hours inside my head without any meaningful contract with other thoughts, viewpoints, or social requirements to me deeper into a place of loneliness.
In 2021, I experienced a career change and the stress of starting anew was great. While I didn’t go off ultra marathoning alone, my daughter was there through all the training, and she was a great training partner. In her, I could let loose with whatever was going on at the time, be a sounding board for her, and revel in our success as the miles ticked away. Unfortunately, I didn’t have many others who could understand what we were doing. I lost track of my old running group, my friends from my old job, and kind of existed in my home through race day. Life was about running, eating, and resting. There wasn’t much else going on, so I dove into, further into me.
I wish I could say that since I committed to doing the same ultra in September that my past experience would help me train better. My internal winter has continued through autumn and this week when a family emergency sprung up, I wasn’t prepared to be anything more than “for me.” As I’m thinking of the next sentence, “I missed two scheduled runs this week,” the word that pops is “I.”
My son is a musician who says writers that rely on “I” in their craft are lazy. Going back over the three hundred or so words that have made it into this essay make it clear that this writer is a lazy mofo. Counting them would reinforce the idea that this pursuit of running fifty miles is a selfish pursuit. To get to my goal of fifty miles will be meaningless if it’s only about me. The events of the week have shaken me. A fear of loss can have that sort effect on a person, on a spouse. There have been too many of those this week.
Perhaps that is why I’ve gone into the “fathomless” quest that ultra running is. Becoming a better person is my ultimate goal and whether it’s inspiration from Bissinger (Friday Night Lights, fathomless), a solid three-hour run, or a much-needed kick in the gut by the uncertainty of life, I must be more aware of others.
Tomorrow will be cold. Tomorrow a long run is scheduled. I’ll be alone.
When I’m done, the day will not be about me.
