embrace the high's, learn from the low's

i made it about 3 minutes into my evening run tuesday when the sky opened and the rain began to fall. usually i'd have smiled and embraced the rare event but instead i ducked into an empty bus shelter across the street. i was lacking motivation and began searching for that special trail, remembering the greater goal, anticipating the reward of an evening with friends, the anger i'd feel if i bagged a run for no other reason than simply not wanting to run, anything that would get me out of that sad bus shelter and back where i belonged. the rain ceased a few minutes later and i walked slowly back to my car.

sometimes i wonder why i'm doing this to myself. i wonder because i don't know the answer to that question. i wonder because sometimes when i wake up very early in the morning, body aching from the 24 miles the day before, and another 20 miles in the mountains about to begin, that i'd rather just sleep in. i wonder because sometimes i think it's strange to be putting so much blood, sweat and tears into something as silly as a two man 113-mile stage race in the colorado mountains.

you're probably thinking i've gone off the deep end, made a dive for the bunker, given myself to the demons who come calling every now and then, inviting me to visit their cruel world. thankfully none of this has happened and i've returned to the blogosphere for your reading pleasure.

the past week's been tough, no doubt. i finished our three day effort last wednesday feeling appropriately achy and tired, but far from broken. it was a fantastic three days of running...over a third of the 61 miles were on trials i'd never set foot on. we passed through beautiful meadows at 9000 feet that i've been staring at from town for the past 3 years wondering what it would be like to visit them. we ran through a steep 2-mile long grove of aspen at 10,000 feet, the forest floor blanketed with lush fern and the rocks in the creek bed we ran along covered in lichen. it was out of place, it didn't make sense, it shouldn't have been there, yet there we were, hearts pumping, together yet alone. we ran 21 miles the third day without seeing another soul, just good conversation for most and comfortable silence the rest. mike and i worked, together, towards a greater goal. yes, it was an enlightening three days for me.

what i wasn't expecting was my motivation being sucked from me like a greedy boy hogging the water fountain after recess. i was dragging. big time. getting out the door and taking those first few steps took what felt like herculean efforts. physically i wasn't bad off, but mentally it was the most difficult 100-mile week of my running career. you may ask why i ran 100 miles when i was feeling so low...wouldn't a couple days off do the body and mind more good than slogging through so many difficult miles? i've learned i'm the only one that really understands the answer to that question.

sometimes i wonder why i'm doing this to myself...but i don't ask out of frustration. maybe some questions are best left unanswered. i get out of bed early in the morning for unforgettable runs in the mountains, to make myself hurt at buffalo park, for the camaraderie of an easy run with friends. i'm running this silly 113-mile race because i want to explore the boundaries, maybe even break through a few. when the journey is so rewarding, maybe i don't need to truly understand why i'm doing this to myself.

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it was a short walk that seemed to last forever the other day. i sat in the car, listened to a few heartbreakers, thinking little of anything really. i swung by the coffee shop, grabbed a coffee to go and made my way to the running shop where i sunk into my favorite green sofa chair. an hour of easy conversation with a friend turned out to be the perfect therapy...i headed out for a beautiful, peaceful, satisfying 10 miles.

on a side note, i missed my connection last night and ended up running in phoenix this morning before catching my flight...another not so subtle reminder of how fortunate i am to have found life in flag.

thanks for checking in,

rob