The Running of the Pigs

     This last Saturday, I had the absolute privilege of running the Cincinnati Flying Pig 10k. Originally I had wanted to run the half-marathon on this weekend, but thankfully my pseudo running coach and common sense prevailed; I was nowhere near ready to run that many miles on that kind of terrain.

     The running joke (haha, get it?) between my brother and I is why would you ever want to wake up before dawn to drive an hour and then PAY MONEY to go run? To be honest, it's not a terrible question.

     Did I go run over six miles just to see if I could? Because I already know that I can; I've done it several times before on my own, for free, outside of my front door.

     Is it to compete with other runners? ABSOLUTELY not. I'm a mediocre runner on my best days, so I know I'm not about to win any prizes or money running.

     So WHY do I pay money to go run in unfamiliar places early in the morning?

     Reason 1: I can. Reason 2: It's a human experience.

     Of all of the trivial things we celebrate day after day or month after month, why do we not spend more time celebrating what we can do? You don't have to cure disease or win 8 Super Bowls to be eligible to celebrate the human spirit and body. Why do we take something as simple as running for granted?

     One of the things I like to do, in a very morbid sense, is to think about those people I know who absolutely CANNOT run anymore. Yes, the list mostly contains people who have passed on from this plane of existence, but it still keeps me grounded and centered on the fact that I can do something. That is reason enough to celebrate. When I feel like stopping, I try to think of that time in my life, hopefully far down the road, when I will come to the realization that my body can no longer physically run. It could be at 29 or 99, but it will eventually come, and I will wish I would have run the extra mile. Sounds cheesy, sounds depressing, but it is one of the things that makes me grateful for this opportunity.

     Secondly, going to any event where people come together for a common purpose with a goal in mind is an EXPERIENCE in the purest sense of the word. At this 10k event, we all had a common goal; run the distance as fast as you can. The beautiful thing about is is that we all have to run our own race. It doesn't matter if you're the person who wins the race or the person who hangs up their shoes last, if you can tell yourself you left it all out there, you've accomplished something spectacular. You have experienced the drive that we should hope to live in our daily lives. Plus, misery loves company, so there is some kind of weird communal bond that happens when your chugging alongside someone else who looks just as miserable as you feel.

     Now, were there times during this race I was discouraged? Absolutely. I had decided I would pace with these two guys that were probably a year or two younger than me but were in way better shape. Their pace looked do-able and I was feeling froggy.

     After we came down from the first big hill/bridge, I realized that if I ever saw those two guys again, it would be as they are walking past me on the way to their car as I'm finishing the race. Discouragement number one had taken its mental toll.

     So following the loss of that little bit of confidence, I decided to buckle down and really focus on running my own race. This worked out for about the next 3 miles. We had just come down off of the other "big" hill (they're all big to me, my local terrain is pancake flat), and I could see the finish line. Little did I know that if we made a bee-line for the finish line, we wouldn't be running a 10k. Turns out, we had to do a nice little loop-de-loop in downtown Cincinnati before going back to the stadium district.

    I decided to buckle down and just do what I could. I was feeling good about it UNTIL a middle aged soccer mom and her 6 year old son came up on my left with little to no effort. I never saw them again, either.

     My quads hurt, I'm drenched in sweat, slightly dehydrated from poor race prep, and now I realize that I must be the standard bearer for the 20:00/mile time. The temptation to just walk was overpowering at this point. But I didn't wake myself up at 5:00a.m. to walk in the Queen City. Absolutely not. If these broken streets wanted to stop me, they would have to throw one of those famous Ohio potholes my way.

     Finally, after a quick slurp of gatorade and making the final few turns, I see the finish line and tell myself to go "all in". It's what I tell my seniors to do, so it was time to live it up. I probably looked like Danny DeVito as the Penguin in Batman Returns, but I finished!

     I finished below my goal time, so that was neat. I got to share the moment with my wife and a couple of friends, so that was neat too. They gave out cookies at the finish line...that was REALLY neat.

     But at the end of the day, I was happy because I set a goal, and despite my brain constantly telling me no, I was able to tell my body to make it work. I felt several different emotions that day as I thought about the last year or so of my life; I was happy, sad, and exhausted while I ran but it gave me the fuel I needed to keep pushing on.

     Some people don't get the chance to keep pushing. Life pushes back and sometimes we get tired of moving our feet. But I hope that even if you can't run that you walk, and if you can't walk you crawl. Life is too short our bodies too amazing to not celebrate what they can do. I hope you find your celebration.