Solace

Today was the nexus of great struggle and unimagined creativity.

My current educational pursuit is the most challenging endeavor I have ever engaged in intellectually. It steals my energy, and it robs my passions from outer outlets. Make no mistake – I absolutely love what I am doing, and yearn for more knowledge. More argument. More precedent. More possibility.

But at times, it makes me so very tired. At times I want to simply run - Forget the days proceedings. The same thoughts run through my head

I guess it's time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,
All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.



One week ago this day, I was injured to a degree of immobility, after improperly stretching my psoas major half-way through a twenty miler for the 2007 Disney Marathon.

I could not walk in forward direction. I was reduced to moving laterally into that emergency room.

This same injury prohibited me from participating in a local 8k road race, one year ago today. My father had worked tirelessly to ensure a fluid transpiration of said event. And I was stuck home. Staring at my entry fee for Disney. Searching online forums for solace.

He returned home hours later, with surplus post-race refreshments from the 25th Essex Turkey Trot. They sit in my basement today, dusty and covered in with the debris of a years time. I refuse to drink them. I did not earn them.

Today, I had a promise to keep. I had to run that very race, on the 26th annual year. I wouldn’t settle for a placid performance. I had been working on my lactate threshold the preceeding week. And I could run comfortably at a 7:00 min/mi pace. I had to test myself.

The course was by no means easy. Elevation rose steadily, creating a sense of sheer pain. There was little to no comfort throughout the entire endeavor. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t really think about the pains in my body. Exhilaration masks the greatest of foes.

I recall vividly the mile 3.8 mark, wherein a sharp turn took the race left. And a man whom I clearly could see wanted to punish himself that day, banked on my right. He passed me, and I realized he had the pace I needed.

From this point on, I found pleasure in pain.

After my adrenaline released, and I saw him continuing to run hard upwards. I knew if a similar condition would have arisen in my preparation for this day, I would have surrendered. In this race, I needed more. I broke through. I stayed the course, unwavering in effort. The only element that changed was my heart rate, my feeling of imminent vomit, and the darkened smile inside my heart.

I had a rough estimate of wherein my capacities lie, and an even rougher understanding of the remaining 1.2 miles. But I took a chance.

The last turn brought the course back onto the main road. The finish line invisible before cresting one last monster.

Giving a hill everything you have is not something that is easy to describe. It is not as beautiful or as bone-chilling as testimonies described with such facility in popular magazines. It requires audacity. And an unyielding commitment to surmounting the challenge therein. All one can do is realize what lies within. George Sheehan once wrote of a hill; What it demands of a man:

"..the Hill demands more and more. I have reached the end of my physiology. The end of what is possible. And now it is beyond what I can stand. The temptation is to say, ' Enough. ' This much is enough. But I will not give in. I am fighting God. Fighting the limatations he gave me. Fighting the pain. FIghting the unfairness. Fighting all the evil in me and the world. And I will not give in. I will conquer this hill, and I will conquer it alone."

Knowing there was resolve in the completion of this event, I thought at one point that if I do pass out on this corner, it would be for the noblest of ambitions.

My personal record at this distance is 38:20 (Feaster Five 8k, 11/25/04) Today I ran 37:00:00. Flat.



Running in this season is personal. Some love the foliage and the cold weather, others love to sweat in the heats of July.

On 4 hours of sleep, a state of dehydration, and a hurried promise to keep, I managed to find the balancing point. Thereafter, I continued my educational pursuits, while keeping a little grin at the new time on my wrist.

Running in these familiar towns, meeting old faces whom have seen far worse circumstances and injuries than I, gives solace to one who strives to maintain balance. It’s a simple pleasure. It is neither esoteric nor nostalgic. It is pure.



Cherished, days as this, are what plug the voids of uncertainty.