Motivation to Run

It has been a long time since there has been a post on this blog. I suppose the two authors have found themselves busy or pulled in other directions. Yet our feet have still been out there pounding the pavement or trails, so why not do a little writing about it? 

A big part of my running journey the past four years has been the significant life change of being a father. Gone are the days of simply running out the door without a care for who might be watching my child, and now children. This has certainly made things more challenging and at times down right impossible. With some creativity and flexibility, however, I have slowly found that I can still go out for some much needed running. Even so, I have been a runner without an immediate and looming goal for the past couple of years. Racing is less appealing as I age and slow down some. I turn my eyes towards other prizes like running a marathon on each continent, but such a glance is quickly dismissed short-term due to certain limitations. So where does a runner find the motivation, beyond the battle of the bulge, to go out there and run when it is just so darn complicated? 

There is a quote in the movie Chariots of Fire when Eric Liddle's character says, "Where does the power come from to see the race to its end? It comes from within." I have always enjoyed this quote even though he says it as a person running a short 200 meter distance. Maybe a post for another time. For today, this quote hits me sideways because the past few years offered me so little internal motivation. The power was not coming from within. I have always been significantly motivated by having a team around me, so the finding and setting goals as an individual 40 something-year-old person on their own is less than motivating for me. I think that is the best way to describe my own self-analysis, but ask me again next week and I might say something else! 

So it was interesting when around October of last year a runner friend from Memphis proclaimed he was going to try to qualify for the Boston Marathon. He was seeking someone to meet him at the marathon he had chosen to run and help him push through to the end. This was my kind of running quest. Someone outside of myself, a teammate so to speak, needed some assistance. Personal evaluation left me questioning if I still had the juice to train for a sub 3 hour marathon. I was slightly relieved when he said at his age he only had to run a 3:20, but then reality sinks in as you also know the faster the better for getting in. Faster is always better! 

I started my training. It was odd training and different from previous marathons I had trained for in the past. The kids and my current schedule persisted as ongoing challenges and I also simply refused to do the same amount of mileage as in the past. I decided I would slowly build up my long run, per the normal training, but everything else would be more by the seat of my pants. Most of my training was done with a baby jogger and pushing one or both of my children. This meant seeking out the flattest part of my mountainous community to run along the river for any hope of drilling some faster paces into my legs. The details of how the rest of it went are the same monotonous ins and outs that we all face when training for a marathon, but the fun part that came along with wanting to help a friend was... fear or anxiety or something along those lines. 

Turns out that whatever feeling I was getting was very good for my running. Any time I would start a longer run or one of my faster training sessions, some small part of me would begin to feel nervous that I would not be ready when the time came. Then my legs would speed up and I would find myself having some great runs. How strangely bizarre it was to welcome anxiety into some aspect of my life and see healthy results! It brought with it a certain type of joy I had not felt while running in some time. This in turn enabled me to feel more confident about planning certain runs and pushing myself more than I otherwise might have done. 

The sad part of this story is that I was not able to physically join my friend for the day of his run. That pesky complicated life ended up winning out and keeping me watching his performance this past weekend on the phone. I hoped my runs on Strava had helped him along the way some but in the end, even if we have a person running next to us, a person is left to their own struggle on race day. The marathon takes who it will and seems to have no discrimination when it comes to ruining the dreams of many a runner. My friend ran a qualifying time and I hope it is fast enough to send him to Boston a year from April. He persevered and ran the hard miles all on his own. Kudos to my friend. 

Then yesterday hit and it was my first run post his marathon. What, if anything, I wondered would motivate me as I ran that first mile. Nothing sprung to my mind and I thought the run would be slow and uneventful. But something of my friend's pursuit still lingered and my body is in better shape than it has been in a couple of years thanks to him. The legs started moving a little more quickly. Beep. I look down and see 7:22 pace for mile two. Well that's 43 seconds faster than my first mile. Beep. 7:13. Ok, well I guess we are going to do something today. Beep. 7:11. Then my mind is into this game too and realizes we have to negative split the next mile under 7 minutes. Beep. Beep. Beep. 

I finished my run and I now look back over what I wrote here today. Maybe the power to finish the run does come from within even when it needs outer inspiration. I spent last night mentally eyeballing the quick Strava segments from my run with jealous thoughts. I revisited my plan for what run will come next and thought wishfully about my long-term plan for my next marathon abroad. It seems there are always plenty of inspirations to get those feet a moving, but sometimes it takes a friend asking for an assist to help shake off the cobwebs (even when you fail to support them as you had hoped). So thank you my friend. And for now I'll sit down to clarify those other little goals that are popping up to keep fueling the machine and holding back all those running demons.

Antarctic Winter Running - Treadmill

It's lazy but because it overlaps so much I posted this running post through my other blog. It's about my attempt to train for a marathon entirely on the treadmill because it's too darn cold to run outside. Read about it here:  http://whyeveryoneshouldmovetonewzealand.blogspot.com/2017/06/running-at-south-pole-during-winter.html

Running in Antarctica

Well I'm finally 100 miles into my South Pole running. Only one of those runs was done outside which means, you guessed it, my running partner is a treadmill.




While I was able to get a few runs in en route to the South Pole while on the continent (see pictures), it is just too darn cold to run outside down here. The one run I went for outside at the Pole, after allowing some acclimation to the altitude, was followed by a sore knee for two weeks. I had been working hard and it was most likely just some overuse. A little rest and I was fine but by the time I wanted to run again the weather outside had certainly gone from maybe you can run in it to you might be crazy to try running in it.




So the treadmill....

 

I have always hated treadmills. The few times I have had to use them in life it has always been begrudgingly. Now it is the only option and it has taken some getting used to for certain. It has been tough getting used to living at 9,000 to 11,000 feet (it changes based on the barometric pressure) and my running was definitely suffering from trying to make that transition, but mostly it has just been the treadmill.




Solution?

Well, the only valid option I have found is to watch a TV show or a movie. It seems ludicrous as I have never listened to music while running, but a show or movie can take the mind off of the treadmill for between five seconds and at times up to five minutes! Everything about a treadmill just irks me but in a place where the average temp is currently -80 degrees F with a wind chill of around -124 degrees F, and it's only getting colder, there are not many valid options short of suicidal running outside.

The Wire, season one, has become my good friend. Together we have finally began to cover some distance. I'm still working on getting my pace down but yesterday I ran past the 100 mile mark while the season came to a conclusion. Something about that moment, maybe the only thing in all of my treadmill running, felt right.

Goals?

Well we have a walk/run/etc back to McMurdo challenge. Around about 836 miles from us is the station we all flew in from - McMurdo. As a fun way to stay fit, there is a giant piece of paper on the gym where people can chart their progress by the mile. Not only is it a fun way to compare yourself to your fellow co-workers for encouragement and such, but it also serves, like a running journal, as a constant reminder if you have not added any miles lately.

My personal goals for my time here are to make it to McMurdo and back (much like the original explorers would have had to do but in reverse), to run a marathon on the dang machine (so I can have this continent under my belt - and yes I'd rather do it outside but the timing is just not going to work out), and to hopefully keep in shape without injuring myself so I can do a few runs when back in New Zealand to see what the benefits of eight months of running above 10,000 feet feels like. I'm kind of excited about the last one but it requires the hardest challenge - no injuries.

So there you have it. Running at the South Pole during the Winter kind of sucks. But there are three treadmills and the opportunity is really quite amazing. For now it is a daily struggle to get on the infernal machine but I bet by the time I leave it will have a nickname and I'll end up missing it.

Shout out to Bryan the Mizuno man for sending me down with some great shoes, as always. Thanks!


(no pictures of treadmills - the pics from running around McMurdo were way cooler looking)

It's Called a Crosswalk People

(St Jude Marathon a few years back. I know we are not using the crosswalk here but at least there is a crosswalk in the picture)

With so many political facebook posts dissolving lifelong friendships left and right, I figured we should stop and talk about something that really matters.

Crosswalks.

Yes, well crosswalks and pretty much pedestrians in general. After having run on the roads, mostly out of necessity for lack of any alternative, for over twenty-four years (ouch that hurts to think about) I have come to a few conclusions about what drivers think of runners. And that's all well and good, (not really but whatever) but what I'm talking about here is beyond the general jerk who slings objects (yes it happens) or slurs out of his car window for some reason. Let's go beyond the unexplainable portion of our population who for some reason grow angry and swerve their cars towards the runners on the road.

I would like to talk about the average every day citizen, who I tend to hope is a good person just trying to get to work. I imagine they are in a hurry with places to go. But what I've had a hard time getting my mind around is their lack of understanding of basic pedestrian laws or in general the absence of any empathy for their fellow human being just trying to get a run in amidst the confusion of their day.

Crosswalks. Back to crosswalks. This first started bothering me at a deeper level when I saw people waiting for long periods of time down in Midtown at the crosswalk at Memphis Pizza Cafe. It is a crosswalk in an already slower speed limit area pedestrian zone. Just walk! But rightly so the people of Memphis fear for their lives, knowing they cannot trust a driver to see the crosswalk let alone stop.

Today we ran through a crosswalk on Wolf River Blvd connecting to Neshoba park. It is a busy road and I get why people do not want to stop. But as it is a big road they can see a pedestrian, even a runner, coming across the road quite easily with plenty of time to slow down. They are required by law to stop but grow ridiculously angry if said pedestrian insinuates they should stop as they drive by without even thinking of slowing down. I know because today I did more than insinuate such.

Anyway, enough of my ranting about the lack of knowledge or even compassion of drivers on the road. This is nothing new or in anyway a surprise to anyone who has been on the road, whether in a car or not. Maybe we could be the example when driving cars and begin following the law when we see people at crosswalks.

Oh and in case anyone is confused my use of the term crosswalk has been in reference to those that are not at lights, etc. Pedestrians, including myself, are expected to wait for the signal change. Below is the TN law on crosswalks if you're interested. It's pretty clear if you ask me. I know, you did not.

TCA 55-8-134 - Pedestrian's Right-of-Way in Crosswalks   (a)  (1) Unless in a marked school zone when a warning flasher or flashers are in operation, when traffic-control signals are not in place or not in operation, the driver of a vehicle shall yield the right-of-way, slowing down or stopping if need be to so yield, to a pedestrian crossing the roadway within a crosswalk when the pedestrian is upon the half of the roadway upon which the vehicle is traveling, or when the pedestrian is approaching so closely from the opposite half of the roadway as to be in danger.    (2) When in a marked school zone when a warning flasher or flashers are in operation, the driver of a vehicle shall stop to yield the right-of-way to a pedestrian crossing the roadway within a marked crosswalk or at an intersection with no marked crosswalk. The driver shall remain stopped until the pedestrian has crossed the roadway on which the vehicle is stopped. (b) No pedestrian shall suddenly leave a curb or other place of safety and walk or run into the path of a vehicle which is so close that it is impossible for the driver to yield. (c) Subsection (a) does not apply under the conditions stated in § 55-8-135(b). (d) Whenever any vehicle is stopped at a marked crosswalk or at any unmarked crosswalk at an intersection to permit a pedestrian to cross the roadway, the driver of any other vehicle approaching from the rear shall not overtake and pass the stopped vehicle.  - See more at: https://www.tn.gov/tdot/article/bikeped-pedestrian-laws#sthash.dLyhKgtm.dpuf

The Best Way to Catch Up with Friends

It is a strange thing to come back to Memphis as a guest instead of a person coming home.  Yet on such a short stay before we head to the South Pole it would be difficult to find people who qualify more as we do as visitors.

Coming back was not without the drastic shift in weather from Guam to Memphis. Such a cold blast to the lungs was quite intense indeed. Strangely enough I find myself missing the cold of last week. Having grown up in Ohio the cold weather is a thing a person has to learn to run in if there is any chance of a good track season. You learn to cope and then even to like it. At times I find myself missing some good frigid runs.  This past week offered a nice relief in this arena and I think I might get one or two more such runs soon.

The best part of coming back to Memphis, from a running standpoint, is getting to run with Bryan and Bryce. There have always been a plentitude of great running partners in Memphis and for that I will always be thankful. From a stellar cross-country team that welcomed us to Houston High School to continuous Breakaway runs over the years to long runs in training for marathon training.

During all of this time and mostly through convenience and other such factors, it was Bryan and Bryce who became the most consistent of running partners in Bluff City. Arguably the running partner is one of the most important factors in the running life. The conversations that have taken place while running with these two men have been one of the most memorable of all the pleasant gifts that have come from the many runs we have shared.

The feeling of running well known streets where so much of who I am as a runner has been formed has been both refreshing and sustaining to the body and mind. The area itself is so familiar and well traversed by my feet that something internal connects in a deep way with the roads, the smells, and even the feel of the city. It is wonderful to be back.


This Christmas I am quite appreciative of so very many things. In a season where I personally celebrate the birth of the Christ with a passionate excitement, I cannot help but share also how wonderful it is to have reliable and faithful running partners. It sounds strange to couple such ideas together but as I celebrate all the wonderful gifts of the season I do not wish to overlook one I am so grateful exists.

So this Christmas season I am taking full advantage of being back near Bryan and Bryce, even though my body is questioning wether so many runs with them are truly gifts. Either way I'll be running with them! Who are you running with this Christmas?

The Day I Couldn't Run

(This is not that. Thank God I have no photos
from the race I describe in this post. But I
wanted to use a photo - so there)

I sat down today to try and write a short story about an impactful experience from running in college.  But all that would come out was a very explicitly non-fiction account of this day in my life.  It was though writing about it was not enough.  And so here is this weird account of my last collegiate cross-country race.  It ended up really being my last collegiate race ever as an unforeseen injury kept me from racing my last track season.  Hopefully it’s not too… whatever. 

“Why do you run?” 

It was always the question. Always. Never more often than when running a race but then it would come from myself instead.  All the pain would add up to one singular question, “Why do you run?” Sometimes it would alter to, “Why do you run you idiot?”

The question had never been shouted louder than it was on that day. It was the last cross-country race of my college career.  I had done everything to ensure it would be the best race of my life. But there I was, trying to run, and my body would simply not respond.  It wouldn’t even respond in the slightest and I slowed to what I’m sure what a training run pace. How could my body rebel like this at the most important race of my life? 

I knew what the issue was of course.  I wasn’t sick. I wasn’t injured.  It was something else altogether. 

As we were warming up for the race, just like hundreds before, some of the girls from our team came up with fear stricken faces and asked in a super serious tone, “Have you seen Monica?”  (I have changed the name to my favorite friends character at the moment.)  A few short words divulged that my girlfriend had disappeared during their race. I always hated it when the girls ran first for about ten reasons but they had just given me a brand new one.  A disappearing girlfriend. 

“Ok guys this is it. Let’s roll,” I said to my team mates around me.  We had just reached the agreed upon point in our race where our entire team would surge forward, running as a pack to take down the competition.  They started with a jump and began moving forward.  What the hell?  Unresponsive legs.  I watched as my younger brother and the guys an forward, leaving me behind.  One anxious look from Bryan was all he could afford.  “Stick to the plan!” I shouted. “Go!” I heard him beckon me on but in horror I watched while they ran forward and I actually slowed down.

 “Go legs, go!” I shouted internally to myself.  Nothing.  No response.  Just a grinding silence. The only feeling was some distant thought of uselessness. Never before had running felt to me the way it did to all those people who always asked me why I ran.  Their faces usually a mix of disgust and disbelief.  Running is what people do for punishment, not for fun.  But in that moment I could feel my inner self looking at me in disgust and disbelief. 

Why was running so hard to understand? I always understood there were more fun things to do. I myself would have preferred to play hockey on any given day, but there was no way on this planet I was going to play hockey in college.  Then it was explained to me that running might actually be a way to not only go to college but to get it paid for.  What? People would pay for your college tuition if you just ran fast enough? And so I had been fortunate enough to accidentally find myself getting calls from college coaches.  Would I like to run in college?

The real problem was not understanding the people who asked me why I ran.  I always got why they asked.  What I didn’t understand was their inability to see why I was doing it.  College! Hello it’s ridiculously expensive. The real problem came when I discovered it wasn’t just something I was doing to pay for college anymore.  

It just happened one day.  I loved to run.  Great, now I really was a mysterious bastard who I couldn't even understand.  Running, how did this happen? 

But it gave me something to focus on and so I ran myself through college.  I was able to attend a fantastic school, received an amazing education, and met some of the best people of my life while running those years at college. 

The journey to my last cross-country race did not go exactly as I would have hoped.  A few major injuries, constant setbacks, and I was nowhere near accomplishing the expectations I had set for myself.  Any dreams of running competitively post college were just laughable.  Mostly I was just getting tired.  Like Bilbo, if you will indulge my nerdy comparison, in his story of carrying the ring too long, after miles of injuries I too felt like jam spread out too thinly on a crust of weary bread. 

Yet I had given my damned best to being the fastest runner I could be at Samford.  I did the rehab.  I sat in freezing whirlpools of icy water.  I endured the workouts Coach McWaters had given us.  And despite being immensely disappointed over my progress - times and accomplishments - I felt I had given myself wholly to reaching my goals.  I just had not reached them. 

This race though, this race was different. It was my last chance to show myself and anyone else who cared who I was as a collegiate runner on the cross-country course. Well it was supposed to be different.

My legs had refused to work.  Apparently a missing person could not be dislodged from my internal purpose for living and in this case running.  After the girls had talked to me the guys on my team took me aside and told me to shake it off.  My face must have given away all of what I was thinking.  I understood their concern.  This race mattered to them as well.

And I had done my duty.  I stood on the line next to them, trying to feel confident and let them see it.  I had internally told myself to shut the hell up and refocus on the race at hand.  “Everything is ok.  It has to be.  What could possibly happen to someone at a cross-country race?”  Monica will be fine and now it is time to run. 

So why did my legs just refuse to work that day?  Why did it all go to shit?  Shame is what I remember.  Pure shame.  It didn’t matter that my body would not respond.  I had spent endless hours making sure it would respond.  This was not anyone’s fault but my own.  

The worst was the faces of those who cheered me on.  They had no idea what to say and their faces showed concern beyond their ability to hide it.  Concern?  I knew what they were thinking.  Each one of them was thinking, “What the hell is wrong with Brett?”  “I don’t know guys,” was all I could think.  I remember my friend Micah’s face most clearly.  He must have decided it was his purpose for moment in time to snap me out of whatever funk I was in at the time.  He appeared at multiple places on the course cheering me on and saying what I needed to hear.  But his voice didn’t work any better than my own. 

How I finished that race I will never know.  It was beyond the shadow of a doubt the worst race of my life.  What was supposed to be one last amazing hurrah as I qualified for the division one national collegiate championship had ended as one giant embarrassing disgrace.  

I crossed the finish line confused and ashamed.  They had found my missing girlfriend as it turned out.  She had been having a bad race herself that day, and when she dropped out of the race she had decided to punish herself by running off into the woods as fast as she could.  

What?  More confusion settled on me like an invisible blanket that only seemed to make me feel more nakedly exposed to everyone around me.  Sorry coach.  Sorry team.  Sorry mom.  Sorry dad.  Sorry Micah.  Sorry to the multiple other friends who came to watch.  I don’t know what to say. 

I stood there trying to figure out what to do, what to say.  I started taking off my racing spikes when I realized how stupid that seemed to me.  I leaned to steady myself on a tree, feeling as though I might faint.  Anger swelled up within me - so much unbridled and ferocious raw anger.  

I looked at the tree.  I looked at my girlfriend.  I looked at my mother.  Shit… All I wanted to do was punch that tree until I could not longer punch anymore.  But somehow I did not start punching anything.  And somehow I could not turn to seek solace with that girl.  Worse, I somehow went on auto pilot and as if to show the entire world how desperately ashamed I felt, I leaned into my mother and just started crying. 

This was not the end.  Well it wasn’t an ending I was prepared for anyway.  Why do I run?  So my hopes can be shattered on the rocks of my own complete inability to perform as I cried like a three year old in his mother’s arms.  This was bullshit.  Unexplainable bullshit that I had heaped on all those I cared about.       

There have been many years of running spent trying to correct the failures of past races, almost as though those races can be erased by new heroic running feats - well new feats anyway.  Total nonsense of course.  Not only will I never be as physically or mentally strong as I was then, but I know I can only look forward at new finish lines that are in no way connected to any one that came previously.  Nothing done now can ever change a moment in time where I shied away from pain or whatever this particular moment can even be described as. 

Does that stop my mind from looking back on races past?  No.  Does it stop my inner runner from thinking of these things as I plod down the road now, imaging I am running way faster and somehow with enough effort I could surpass my twenty-two year old self as an aging thirty-six year old?  No. 

I wept.  I wept in front of my guy and girls.  I wept as people from other teams walked past without even bothering to look at the guy who did not just qualify for nationals.  I wept because otherwise I was going to beat the hell out of a tree or shout at my college girlfriend about what you’re supposed to do if you drop out of a race.  I wept because it was the only thing I could do.

I have plenty of ideas as to where the other options would have taken me.  I wept because I love running and somehow I had failed to run.  

Why do I run?  I still love to run.  I still disappoint the every living crap out of myself every time I lace up my shoes.  But mostly I love to run because none of that matters.  Yes running can kick me squarely right in the pants, but when I can stop being a diva with running goals that do not really matter at all, I can relax.  I can just enjoy.  I can look back and say maybe it’s a good thing that I couldn’t run when a person I cared about was missing.  Who the hell would I be if I was that person anyway? 

Why do you run?  Today I'm a guy running after a manditory month off for healing post gall bladder removal.  It's not pretty.  It's not fast.  But damn it if I'm not out there on the roads still putting one foot in front of the other.  I might be an injury ridden son of a gun, but I'm still out there getting it done, albeit slowly.  I hope you are too!  It seems it matters way more how we run, than how fast we run. 

Running in a Monsoon. Guam Adaptations.

My wife and I moved to Guam this past July and have been here just over a month.  So what is it like running in Guam?  Mostly hot, humid, and all of the other characteristics of living near equator. Normally it looks like this photo.

Today, however, I experienced running in a monsoon for the first time.  We have entered the rainy season.  The plus is the temperature is ten degrees plus less and without the sun I was almost cold feeling the rain hit my body as I began the run.  The downside was the rain hitting me in the eyes at an almost horizontal approach with a good amount of vigor to it.  My first typhoon might be a little scary but how can you not run in it?  I might find out.

So far running in Guam is lots of roads and sidewalks, but I know there are trails to be found if I'm willing to drive to the run.  For now I've been lazy and just running from where ever we happen to be living.

I would like to share what I was thinking about during most of the run today, while monsooning.  As I was about to leave I told the man who owns the house we are renting a room in I was going for a quick four miles (it ended up being six - sweet).  He responded by saying, "I envy you."  He then went on to briefly say that thirty pounds ago he was more active and the whole deal.

During the run I thought about that comment a lot.  I thought about the truth, which he knows already too, of how it's all about just taking it easy and getting out the door.  Four miles or more might keep him indoors but what about a mile or a half a mile?  Do that for a few weeks until he's ready for four.  Or just stay with that distance.

(Even with the clouds that clearly spell out rain, sometimes it is just time
to run.  Also I wore this shirt as a shout out to the Arlington team)

I have talked to plenty of people who made me feel about my running the same as how my host felt when I said I was running four miles.  My friend +Benjamin Winrow who has done multiple +100 mile runs through mountains comes to mind.  I tried running with him for a few months and still bear the sore knee that could not handle his intensity and distances.

But that's the way it is right?  There is always someone out there who can inspire us to run farther, faster, longer, higher, in new places, in new ways, etc.  Shoot, just take the Olympics for example.  I guess when I thought about it, this is one of the main reasons +Bryan Baddorf and I write this blog (although it's been a long time since our last post).  The hope we can inspire someone to get out of their door and eat some miles, even if it only inspires us to run so we can post about it.  Wouldn't that be enough?  

So get out there and inspire someone to run.  Don't belittle anyone for running slower or shorter distance or for not running in mountains or whatever.  Just allow your running dreams and realities to spur others on into runs.  I certainly hope our running does that for others.

Oh and in case you want to follow us on Strava check us out and then we can follow you too.
Brett    Bryan    Hopefully those links will get you there.

(Not bad views even in the rain)

My Crowded Hour

Teddy Roosevelt always referred to his experiences in the Spanish American War as his "Crowded Hour."  That phrase popped into my head when I reflected back on the last six months of my life. This period was without a doubt very stressful but the anxiety was a result of many blessings within a short span.

Roosevelt and his legendary Rough Riders on San Juan Hill.

I accepted a Territory Manager position with Mizuno in late October that launched my Crowded Hour.  A week later I was flying to Portland to attend the Run sales meeting and frantically trying get all the details ironed out with Mizuno corporate.  At the same time I was working to dissolve my relationships with the six other brands that I had represented previously.  The following week I competed in the Wynne Marathon (see previous post here.)  Then I had to organize my new sales samples and hit the road for a selling season that would last until the end of January.  In the midst of my travels we celebrated seven family birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christ's birth and the new year. Along the way we continued to get our house ready for our first baby (see nursery reveal here.)  Then of course the baby himself appeared!  Charles Dixon Baddorf was born on January 31st and weighed in at a bruising 9 lbs, 4 oz.  As you can guess the Crowded Hour continued over the next few months as we wrestled with the challenges of a new born.  I am not trying to complain at all, like I said there were a lot of blessings crowded in there.

Charles "Charlie" Dixon Baddorf at 8 weeks. 

 Luckily I planned for some of the commotion (I had a nine months notice on the whole baby thing.)  I also knew that I would have a busy selling season regardless of what brands I worked with as a Sales Rep.  So during this time I definitely expected a slow down in my running and that is what happened.  I paced some friends during the St. Jude Marathon in Memphis (which got some nice coverage in the local media) and trained whenever I could until baby Charlie arrived.  In the early days of my son's life there wasn't much running done by this BaddRunner.  We also happened to have a lot of rotten weather which didn't help the matter either.  Eventually though I began to climb back in the saddle.  Charlie slowly began to develop a routine and I was able to follow suit and find time to lace up my Mizunos (insert product placement here.)

BaddRunner on far right on the local news after St. Jude Half Marathon

Rockin' the Mizuno jersey on the far left in the local paper

The last few weeks have been pretty good for my running.  The weather has been great and I've been able to get in some mid 40 mile weeks and then 57 miles last week (follow me on Strava.com to chart my fall and rise.)  I've even thrown in a few track workouts which has not happened for a long time.  So my fitness is improving for sure but what is the goal of all this fitness?  Nothing.  Not having goals is kind of my style these days.  I enjoy being in good shape so that when I do decide to hop in a race and put a hurting on some folks I have the tools to do it.  Although I normally end up putting the hurt on myself more than anybody.

One day soon I'll probably climb aboard the Pain Train and enter a local race to test the ole fitness level.  I'll also start pushing Charlie in the running stroller once he is big enough and that will have its own benefits and challenges I'm sure.  Not too long after that the weather in Memphis will become so hot that the idea of improving one's fitness seems insane.  My goal then will be to maintain and hope that I don't die from dehydration.  Right now I'm just going to take it one run at a time, be thankful for the blessings that I've received and hope that I'm officially on the way out of My Crowded Hour.



      

Goodness Gracious "Snowballs" A Fury

(Post run beard - good thing I
basically wear a hat on my face!  It
was cold out there)

Admittedly there is clearly much to report from a running point of view in the Baddrunner community since we have not posted in quite some time, but why bore anyone with the mundane of everyday running topics...

Especially when there is snow on the ground!  I love the fantastic experiences that come from running in the many varied options dealt out by Mother Nature.  Snow running is high up there!

Just as I was finishing my run this morning, which is one of a few I've completed in the past month due to being careful with an injury and overall laziness, a neighbor waived and proclaimed, "Now that's dedication."  Looking up and seeing the broad smile on his face and the enthusiasm which was clearly communicated in his voice I felt bad for my lack of dedication over the past few weeks.  "I never miss a chance to run in the snow," I said back, feeling as though I needed to deflate his being impressed by my lackluster running dedication.

The weather certainly can play a determining factor in our ability to make it out the door in the mornings, and I have definitely missed my own share of runs due to feeling it's too cold/raining too hard/or whatever lame excuse I can come up with (especially at six in the morning).

(just a nice look at the roads - didn't
 take my camera on the run
 and it unfortunately looked much
more nice and untouched.
But I walked the roads later)

As I sit and write this Bryan sits across from me pretending to work on some of his Mizuno accounts or something.  While he did not make it out on this particular run (supposedly due to "Charlie complications" - his one month old son who is becoming quite a good excuse these days), that did not stop him from giving me a comment on running out on cold snowy roads.

He smirked a little bit and then I think his beard took over as he said, "Tell them it takes great big snow balls to get out there and do what needs to be done."  Chuckles were had, coffee sipped approvingly, and I decided while cheesy, it is 100% accurate.

(Love the snow covered roads. Can
you see all the kids and parents
in the background sledding and
playing?)

At the end of the day we run because it's who we are and what we are made of deep inside.  Some runners are born with a need to run and others of us, myself included, build this intrinsic desire, oddly enough, through running.  Today was a good day and the "running demons", as Bryan calls them, were satisfied.  I can already feel myself wanting to run tomorrow more because I ran today!

So get out there and enjoy whatever conditions have been dealt out to you.  Muster up some big ole' snowballs and do what needs to be done, what deep down you know you want to do anyway.  Have a great run and enjoy it.  We never know when something will come along to claim our running from us.

**Coming soon - a post about the ridiculously crushing four mile trail race we did recently**

(Wanted to add this pic I took on the walk.  Wearing my dad's old army jacket with my monkey hat made in Nepal by women who have been trained to make these so they can make a living, thus giving them an option out of forced prostitution.  So that's cool - the job part, not their previous circumstances)

St. Jude Marathon: Watching for Gracie

These clowns ran by - one bad runner running at least.

A marathon is a great achievement, and so when Gracie said she was going to be running the St. Jude Marathon I decided I would go and cheer her on as she worked to complete her goal.

Determined.  Anxious.  Thrilled.  Perplexed.  Silly.  Befuddled.  Full of joy.  Painful.  These were the looks on faces as they filed by in a never-ending massive group.

I just kept hoping no one would spit on me as I stood impatiently in the leaves on the edge of North Parkway, fighting off the chill with my coffee from +Cafe Eclectic.  I was fairly certain no one would spit on me, at least deliberately, but I'm not sure I've never accidentally spit on a bystander myself.

After all of the races I have run I am still struck by the odd feeling of spectating, and without exception an unusual feeling of being out-of-place washed over me last Saturday.  While I watched the St. Jude half-marathon and marathoners run by I was also filled with one other overwhelming emotion, one of awe. Not only have I been recently watching some St. Jude videos (and they have been having their effects on me to say the least), such as the one posted on the side here, but as I watched folks go running by I know I am not the only one who felt as though they were a part of something truly wonderful, something bigger than just themselves.

The more I learn about St. Jude the more amazed I am by their mission, purpose, and most of all by the fact that their doors are still open.  According to their website (click here) St. Jude has raised more than 7.5 million dollars through this event!!  So when  you see the slogan for the race that states, "Get set....to run for their lives," one can really stand back in awe, as I did on Saturday, at the countless runners who wound their way past me in search of a finish line.  A finish line not made of tape or marked on a street somewhere, but one that comes in the form of "life poured back into me" as Maggie talks about in the video.

It was fun seeing +Bryan Baddorf run by with Max.  It was spectacular to recognize so many others from +Feb Boswell  to +Charlie Duke to Olaf to Meredith to Ben and countless others.  I suppose there is still a part of me, when I'm racing, trained to ignore those watching the race for the hopes of better concentration (not sure if that was good coaching or not but it was always instilled by various coaches). So engaging and being part of a communal event like the St. Jude Marathon, where the contestants actively seek out crowd participation is still new to me.  I remember in the Boston Marathon watching a guy run to the side of the road to kiss a Wellesley student and thinking, "what?"  (when running past the university students line the course and scream - some with signs saying "kiss me runner") I feel like I'm trying to explain one of the most basic aspects of any large marathon and yet for me it feels so foreign.

How terrible it is to have an injury when the St. Jude marathon is happening!  But how proud I am to be a part of a community that not only supports St. Jude but is a home to it as well.  Somehow I never did see +Gracie Irby run by on the way to completing her first marathon.  I stared at faces until it hurt my mind to try and distinguish familiar from strange.  I did come away from the run filled with joy, however, and it is a great hope of mine to become more of a part of those who continue to fight against such foes as cancer.  Whether it's through a run, by volunteering, by donating, or in some other vein.

The Win in Wynne

It has been a crazy last month or so for this Badd Runner.  My marathon training seemed to be coming to a close with the race drawing nearer and all of my long runs accomplished.  Then I received a sudden, but welcome, life changing surprise.  I was offered and accepted a Territory Manager position with Mizuno!  The next week was a blur as I scrambled to attend Mizuno's running sales meeting in Portland, Oregon.  Unfortunately the timing of the meeting made it impractical for me to participate in the marathon that I had signed up for in Greenville, SC that weekend.  I was going to have to find another race so that all of my training wouldn't go to waste.

The same day that I got home from the sales meeting a friend of mine (thanks Kelly Hensen) posted on Facebook that she had an entry for the marathon in Wynne, AR that she couldn't use because her kids had qualified for the state cross country meet that next weekend.  Good for them and good for me!  She transferred her entry to my name and just like that I was signed up for a marathon the weekend after mine fell through.  Wynne is also right across the river from Memphis so I could travel over on race morning and be back in Memphis on the same day.  So at 5:45am on November 1st my wife and I were in the car and crossing the Mississippi River.

My wife wanted me to pose for a picture but this is about as playful as I get before I board the pain train. 

Race day was the first cold day that we experienced in the mid south this Fall where it had gone from the 70s to 35 degrees in a matter of hours.  I warmed up the best I could before I toed the line with about 500 other runners.  The event is pretty low key so I didn't really have any company on my 26.2 journey.  The loneliness was both peaceful and painful at times.  Despite the cold I started out right on pace and felt totally comfortable as I cruised mile after mile at just under 6:00 min/ mile pace.  The only problems I had during the first 20 miles were eating my energy gels.  I think the cold thickened them up and made it hard to swallow.  Then at mile 21 the wheels began to come off as I could feel my legs slowly turning to jello. The rest of the race would be in damage control mode.

    Rolling country roads make up the out and back course.

Many times in the past when discussing the marathon distance I have made the following observation and this experience has done nothing to change my mind.  All you can really do in a marathon is get to mile 20 as close to your goal pace as possible and then let the dice fall as they may.  Some days you will miraculously find a second wind that will carry you through to the finish and others you will find yourself engaging in damage control just like me.  In the end I believe it always comes down to a bit of luck.  Even the professionals blow up and find themselves walking it in sometimes. 

I didn't have to walk but my pace did slowly deteriorate as I saw my goal time die right before my eyes. (see my GPS data here)  The painful part is that at that moment there is nothing you can do about it but grind on.  So it went for the last five miles or so, the death march as they say.  Finally I crossed the finish line in first place in a time of 2 hours and 43 minutes.  My loving wife was there to cheer me on and help me get dressed when I couldn't stand (although she did put my pants on backwards.)  It was touch and go for about an hour after the run as my body couldn't decide if it wanted to shut down or not.  Fortunately a Mountain Dew, a massage and some donuts helped still the uncontrollable shaking and the wobbly legs.  

Post race walking is hard.  Pay no attention to the pants that are on backwards.

Overall my marathon experience was very positive.  I ran a bit slower then I would have liked but it was my first overall win at that distance and it was my first marathon in five years (read the Badd Runner post from that race here.)  I'm also very grateful that I was able to find a replacement race on short notice and stay reasonably healthy during my training.  Several weeks later and I am back training steady with no lingering ailments.  My goal now is to have fun with my running over the next few months until our first Badd Baby arrives and steals all of my sleep and energy.  

Grind on weary runners! 

   Post marathon cuddles are the key to recovery. 

Thanks to my lovely wife Rachel for the pictures and the support!  I stole the images from her race recap on the Midtown Maven blog. 

Running Past a Gold Medalist - Dave's House

The process of regaining flexibility so my inner knee will not feel pain has not been what I qualify as fun, but the past three weeks I've still enjoyed a short two to four mile run once a week.  Just enough to get my legs nice and warm so I can stretch them out really well.  In the meantime I've been trying to commute to work on a new road bike as it does not seem to be causing any discomfort.

The short two to four mile run is what I want to discuss though, for a very simple reason.  My current residence resides only a mere quarter mile from one Dave Wottle, who many might know is the 1972 Munich Olympics Gold Medalist in the 800 meters.  Not only does his race stick out in many American's minds because he was the "guy who forgot to take his hat off during the National Anthem," but it was just one of those races that is amazing to watch!  

Wottle ran his race at a fairly consistent pace which put his first lap's pace quite slower than those who were leading the chase for gold.  But as one watches the second lap they begin to see Dave Wottle eating up one runner at a time as he appears to be accelerating to un-human speeds.  One runner and then another, he works his way slowly up until the last 100 meters where he lets everything loose.  Even then it is hard to hope he will have enough speed to overcome the last three runners standing in the way of a gold medal.  Somehow he blasts past them and at the line overcomes his final contender and wins the race!

In 1999 I met Dave Wottle while washing cars at my younger brother's fundraiser for their cross-country team.  His daughter Jenny was a freshman that year on the team and we spent a few hours washing cars together.  As things were winding down I heard a voice behind me say, "Hey Brett," and as I turned to face him, "I'm Jenny's dad, Dave Wottle."  Would you believe me if I told you I recognized his voice, even before seeing him, from all of the running movies and documentaries? We chatted for a few minutes and I remember being amazed (really I still am) that a gold medalist had asked me how my running was going!? 

As I run past his house on the short route I now hope will help rehabilitate my knee, I find an immense well of emotions fueling my labored pace.  Dave is Jenny's dad and Jenny is my wife's best friend from high school.  Jenny went on to run on my collegiate team and became my friend too.  And the Wottles are just great people we are blessed to call friends.  But Dave is and will always be the 72 800 meter Olympic gold medalist!  It is nice to sense this as I run past his house, knowing I am passing by one of The Greats.  I imagine him sipping his coffee and looking out the window, naturally he knows when a runner is near, nodding in approval of the offering even if it is meager.  

It inspires me and reminds me of my deep love for running.  Maybe watch the video and let Dave Wottle inspire you too.  If you've already seen it watch it again as I just did.  Amazing!

Running Like a Fish

(I know it's not a picture of a pool but it is water.  I wish I could swim in
this water and not be crushed upon the rocks)

Injury always plays a part in our running.  Sometimes serious and sometimes not.  One never quite knows what sort of injury a current situation might be until back running or still sidelined.

And so the pool for me holds with it a certain disdain.

As a child it was an obvious source of fun, wet noodles, and splashing - honestly it still holds these positive emotions when I see a pool.

Then the pool became a playing field when I joined the swimming team from age five to ten or so.  Those were fun times as well, mixed with all sorts of odd memories from freezing cold water to swim meets in bizarre places to a team I barely knew.  Most of these fuzzy remembrances come from being a kid who had to wear super thick glasses so I could see well, and as you may have guessed, once cannot wear such optical aids while in or around the pool - no contacts at this point.  Funny as it is, when I stop to look back on the window into my past on times when I was without glasses, it seems as though I'm looking now without glasses as though the memories themselves are blurred.

It was in college where the pool took on the dark turn of being a place where I had to go to train due to an injuries.  Endless amounts of pool runs can take their toll on the mind.  Even the smell of the pool can in moments conjure up a montage of never ending water workouts.

Regardless, when their is some pain keeping me from the roads I have two choices.  Move to an activity (such as the pool) that does not bother the pain so I can keep some form of cardio fitness, or just become a useless lump of lethargic laziness putting on the pounds.  I am not good at curbing my eating style and end up taking in way too many calories when I'm injured.

(I took this photo from a website - click anywhere on this link.
 It gets at what I'm trying to say for the most part)

Recently a friend from college (Mark McBride) came to visit and he started talking about his Ironman experience.  For some odd reason these conversations were the spark I needed to get me swimming just enough in the pool that I think a childhood switch went off, releasing the idea of the pool as a place of joy back into my heart.  An old home where I suddenly felt much less like a runner trying to swim and more like an old swimmer getting his form back (I'm sure it looked atrocious).

Perhaps it's time for me to learn to love the pool again.  I still yearn the feeling of my feet pounding against the open road, but the run has been rough on the body.  For now I'm a stretching machine with a reborn love for the water surging in my blood - seriously I can't get it out of my ears so I know it's in there. Who knows, this might just be the nudge I needed to get me looking more seriously towards triathlons.

For now I'll be running, but like a fish.
 

Adding Another BaddRunner to the Pack

Recently I set a new goal for myself.  My aim is to run my legs into the ground sometime prior to January 28th. I'm not trying to permanently ruin my body, but simply be in need of a long break around that time.  The reason is quite simple...Procreation!

My wife and I are expecting our first little BaddRunner in late January and I don't expect to get much quality running done in the immediate aftermath of its birth.  I decided that my first step toward my goal would be to do a marathon in late October.  One of the crazy busy seasons for my job starts in early November and my training is always up and down during that time anyway.  So hopefully I can knock out a marathon before the intense road trips and then stay in shape for some shorter races before Baby Time.

The Spinx Carolina Marathon takes place on October 25th and I am planning on toeing the line there.  The course is rumored to be relatively flat for South Carolina and pretty fast.  It is also an area of the country that I have never visited.  We are hoping to make a nice journey out of it and head to Charleston or some other interesting stops in the area. I have not done a marathon since Boston '09 so the experience will be interesting no matter what else happens on the trip.  

Boston in 2009 with 1 Mile to go. 

Do not adjust your settings, those are Man-Pris pants!

After the race the BaddRunners had a tough time walking down the stairs. 

This season will be the first time in a long time that I have trained with a specific goal in mind.  After running competitively for ten years in school I got a little burned out on tracking mileage, workouts and results.  It will also be exciting to see what kind of motivation and focus I can conjure up for the occasion.  So all aboard the Pain Train and if you see me bearing done on you with the Eye of the Tiger then you best step off the tracks!   

Do the Chasqui Runner Still Exist?

(drawn image of Chasqui runner taken from this link)

A few posts ago Bryan and I wrote a cowritten piece on our visit to some Civil War grounds near Fort Donelson in Tennessee (click here to read the post if you missed it).  One reader commented on the post and asked if I had ever heard of the Chasqui runners.  I did a little bit of online research and found myself reading about the Incan Empire during the height of its glory.

I read a few sources on these runners (and no I do not know how to say the same out loud although it looks straightforward to me - Chasqui) and by all accounts these runners were top notch.  Running at insanely high altitudes and over extremely rocky terrain these runners made up arguably the most efficient post service of all time (click here for the site I like the most for further reading), even besting the Roman system which was carried out, for the most part, on much smoother surfaces and at much lower altitudes.   

It was not possible to read about these runners without imagining what it must have been like to have been one of them.  As a runner who has competed through middle school, high school, and then in college, it is safe to say I have quite an inferiority complex when it comes to my sport.  While when reason is employed and I get beyond just my emotional passion about my own activities and I can understand why so much emphasis is placed on other sports instead of track or cross-country, there is still a yearning to see professional runners on the same level as other professional athletes.  Once every four years we get close for a short amount of time but then running tends to fade back into obscurity, especially in comparison.  

(Yes the feeling of belonging certainly did contribute to our success on
and off the cross-country course.  One example - our principle Dr.
Atkinson attended many our meets, including this one.  I believe he
attended events from every sport but I had never seen a member of faculty
come to watch a cross-country race before - it made a difference)

The strangest thing happened to me my senior year of high school when my family decided to move from Findlay, Ohio to Memphis, Tennessee (more specifically Germantown).  In Findlay being a runner was not very impressive in the eyes of my classmates.  One of my teammates even won the Ohio State Championships individually, though the rest of the school seemed hardly to notice.

When my brother and I started attending Houston High School I saw some drastic differences. The team was much larger in numbers and seemed to be relatively successful (something that had eluded our team in Findlay).  But beyond even these revelations, the students in the school seemed to have an overall genuine interest and even respect for the team.  I could not believe it when my world went from being unnoticed to being thrust just into the fringe of the "in" group.  Trying to explain this experience words feels so very off of what I'm really trying to say, but the difference was there and somehow it was "cool" to be a runner.

While we did not literally "run" an empire by delivering important messages all across a vast territory, we were loved and respected in ways I hope all runners get a chance to feel at some point.  I never felt that sort of communal support previously and certainly have not felt it since then.  It was truly amazing to feel your sport was a part of the bigger picture and was recognized as such.  I believe we ran better for it and certainly took a certain amount of pride with us as went out to compete.

(Taken at a Samford competition - we had such a great team full of
amazing people.  It's hard not to miss running and talking with them)

Perhaps something like this exists in local running communities where people all gather round the common interest of a love for running.  I know in Memphis I felt a similar belonging through the group runs and activities centered around +Breakaway Running.  The community there has built something special and it is my hope we all experience something similar wherever we find ourselves.  Yes, running can be quite solitary by nature but it does not have to be that way.  Maybe it no longer makes sense to have runners like the Chasqui employed to transfer messages and important data, but we can still pause to look back and ponder at what it might have been like.  We can still demand more from our local communities from trails to group runs to a higher level of respect for our past time.

Sometimes I wonder how much money running has raised for various charities.  Or how many lives it has changed through the ever transformational weight loss it offers.  Just in my life running has established scholarship foundations, given people new purpose, saved lives, created life long friendships, and much more.  Maybe, just maybe, the Chasqui are still out there secretly running the empires of the world.  I suppose it is possible.  I'll keep getting slower and slower as time goes on (apparently) but there is so much more to running than winning races and having a fast time.  Volunteering, mentoring, coaching, and raising funds to name a few.

Lets keep running and changing this world for the better - what do you say?