On Death and Running

No, this isn't the weekly update post, although I do have that one in the hopper, ready for publication. But in the interest of not double-posting, or making any of these any longer than they have to be, tonight I think I'll write about one of the "something differents" in a long list of "something differents" that need to be published on here sooner rather than later, and save the weekly update for later.

(If you really must know, the very short version of my update is that in the past two weeks, I ran 80 and 78 miles, including a PR at Boston, and a surreal 3:20 pacing effort at the Kentucky Derby Marathon, with an extra 17 miles tacked on at the end for good measure.)

But tonight, the topic on many people's minds (people that are on the internet and might read this sort of thing, anyway) is death. In particular, Osama Bin Laden's death. Putting aside (deep breath) the complications that some people believe that he's been dead for a long time, others believe that he's still not dead, still others believe that he's not responsible for all of the terror for which he's given credit, and all of the moral and political implications involved in an unauthorized deadly cross-borders raid (exhale), in some sense of the word, this is a huge accomplishment. That is, since the 9/11 attacks, a substantial number of Americans have been longing for the mastermind to be brought to justice, for the sake of a sense of closure. Now it's happened, and, acceptance willing, they have it.

What, pray tell, then, does this have to do with running? Since it's me, lately, probably a lot. First, bringing Bin Laden to justice has been a long-standing goal for the US. Closer to the 9/11 attacks, it seemed within reach. Then, for many years, it slipped away, and certainly, some lost focus. But a certain few persisted, and those who persisted reached the goal. As a runner, I can relate to this struggle. Over the many years since I've started running, I've had such goals, most notably, a sub-3-hour Boston Marathon. On my fifth attempt, I finally achieved it, after feeling as though I was close on my first attempt. That many years, and that much running, is a lot of time and distance between the starting point and the goal. At times, the value of the goal becomes questionable. And, in spite of the achievement, there's still no way to know for sure if all of the sacrifice and effort was worth it, or if the time could have been better spent on other pursuits. In a sense, the goal is dead, and there's no way to bring it back, and turn back the clock and let it live instead. But the undisputable prize here is validation of the assertion that achieving something that your heart is set on really is possible, with enough time and the proper efforts. The prize is the promise, and the confidence that you have the ability to do better.

But on another level, Bin Laden's death, relative to running, is something entirely different. In the context of the larger "war on terror," this is victory in one battle. This is hardly the end. And as clear-cut as it is to some Americans that this is a time for joy, across the world, others mourn, resent, lament, or vow revenge. All of these are valid reactions to death, because, if nothing else, death assures change. As a result of any loss, people re-group, re-assess, and re-prioritize. Hopefully, as a result, things go on better than they did before. And, in an allusion to something I've mentioned here in the past, this is exactly the substance of training to win. Simply put, if you're already there, you don't need to do anything to get there. But who's really already there, and even among those, who's going to stay there while the world keeps turning? In the words of Andrew W.K. (words whose brilliance I'm comprehending only now, years later), you have to be "ready to die." Effective training, training that makes you a faster, stronger runner, is going to kill some things. Aside from the physical death/rebirth cycle that is at the heart of training, it kills fear, doubt, sloth, indecision, weakness. And with death this profound, death of things that, although negative, have provided comfort in the form of stability to your existence for longer than you can remember, you're bound to experience emotions as mixed as those surrounding Bin Laden's death.

But ultimately (and back to the first point, and onward to the end of this), it seems as though the real winners in this world are those that are "ready to die." When you're ready to let go of the goal (hopefully because you accomplished it), or let go of the negativity that holds you back, you're ready to die to something that's been bringing you down, and raise yourself up to bigger and better things. And, as I mentioned in a previous post, this sort of process is uncomfortable, unsettling, and painful. It's not for everyone, it's not for everything, and it's not for all of the time.

But sometimes, it's worth it.

My Ironic Stress Fracture

One might think, with the pressure of a fall packed with 8 credits of part-time class, a full-time job, four ultramarathon attempts, and, just for kicks, the Army Ten-Miler, I would have cracked by now. And to some extent, I already have (note the word "attempts" after "ultramarathon" in the previous sentence). But ironically enough, it wasn't all of this that did me in. It wasn't even an epically packed last week of classes, in which, between December 1st and December 7th, I had due 1 individual homework assignment, 1 term paper, 1 group project, 2 team papers, 2 take-home finals, and 2 group presentations, on top of 3 briefings for work (which I'm pretty sure is a PR in terms of significant deliverables produced in a 7-day period, although I don't usually keep track of such things).

No, I went ahead and tweaked my running form. This tweaking fixed the minor issues I've had with my knees off and on ever since I started running, and resulted in leaps-and-bounds improvements in speed and efficiency (in short, things that, over the past few weeks, have made running more joyful and less stressful than ever before) . . . and a stress fracture in my left foot, second metatarsal.

To be fair, this is self-diagnosed, but I've had two other stress fractures in my running career, which is enough to know what one feels like. If you're wondering if it's a stress fracture, here are some tell-tale signs that could save you weeks or months of frustration and hundreds of dollars in medical bills, which result in a prescription of "rest":

1. Sharp, severe pain that floats around the injured point during motion, especially when the fracture is fresh, but eventually settles at the point of injury.

2. Vague swelling and bruising in the injured area (vague enough that the only way to conclude that there might be swelling or bruising is to compare the injured area to the same area on the other side of your body)

3. Feels like an internal "itch" near the point of injury when you're just sitting around.

4. Pressing a finger on the point of injury is slightly (but not dramatically) more painful than pressing a finger near the point of injury.

5. Pain increases dramatically under pressure during the motion of the physical activity that caused it.

6. Pain increasingly occurs during ordinary motion (e.g. walking around, climbing stairs), not just exercise.

In any event, this is a disappointing development, as it puts my entire spring in limbo. I'm already signed up for the Boston Marathon, so I've decided that that's happening, no matter what. Given that, depending on how quickly I heal, I could be running again in a month (mid-to-late January), in which case I may be able to be a little bit more ambitious post-Boston. If things don't go so well, I might not be running until late February, which throws a huge monkey wrench into late spring/early summer. And of course, a lot of major races want commitments right now, so it's unlikely that I'll be racing anything (other than Boston, and hopefully the National Marathon, for the sake of keeping that streak alive) that's "major" until mid-to-late summer.

This also comes at an awkward time, as I suddenly have more free time, due to my MBA classes being done forever, and work being generally slow around the holidays. So, my plan to use additional free time for more running is shot.

On the upside, this forces me onto the bike, and into the pool, so perhaps if I can improve my swimming past the point of "just barely not drowning," I could throw my first triathlon into the mix at some point (probably something short, since the longer ones are more expensive and probably full at this point anyway). There's also the possibility that there could be other things in life besides work and running (or so I hear), so there's that to explore . . .

And looking long-term, perhaps being injured now will put me a few months behind the late-season burn-out curve that everybody else who is at least moderately competitive seems to ride, so that in the fall, when everybody else is tired from racing in the spring and summer, I'll be relatively fresh, and ready to perform well at a major event.

In summary (because for some reason, I feel like this needs a summary), a wise man, whose name may or may not actually be Andrew W.K., once belted out in a song, "Just because this life ain't easy doesn't make it bad." Not bad at all, Mr. W.K. Just interesting and ironic.