Chevron Houston Marathon 2009

As I crossed the starting gate, I pressed the start button on my watch and said to myself "Here we go again..."

4 hours 19 minutes and 52 seconds later. I crossed the finish line...happy. Not because I was finished. And not because I had a new best marathon time, but because I was happy about the road I had just traveled. I was happy. I had found the pure joy and love that I thought I had lost for the sport. This isn't to say I didn't struggle at times during the run. I had moments where the fatigue and strain started to weigh heavily on me, but each and every time I would say aloud to myself "enjoy this." I would then close my eyes and smile. I would look around at the crowd. I would tune into the anonymous cheers. I would give appreciation to the supporters who pronounced my name correctly. I was equally thankful for the supporters who didn't. I slowed down and in some cases traveled back against the flow of runners to say hi to a familiar face.

And so as ran, hobbling on stiff legs, for that last mile, I remembered why I did this.

p.s. A very special THANK YOU to my wife and all my loved ones who supported me.

A Running Epiphany

A few weeks ago I was bogged down in a real running rut. I was in the thick of the heavy part of my training schedule and I was beginning to dread each long run. All of the sudden, I couldn't stay motivated. I was more excited about finishing the run than about doing the run. Thoughts swirled in my head about laying off the marathons indefinitely after this season. The idea excited me. No more extended training sessions. No waking up before the sun just to have enough time to run. The idea become the light at the end of the tunnel that I thought would motivate me through my current training. The boost was short-lived. Just days later, I was back in my rut. I simply couldn't think my way out of it. I was starting to question whether or not my love of the sport was waning. The questions weighed heavily on my mind. Was it time to hang up the running shoes? Was it time to move on?

A week later I was in the middle of a long training run when I ran into a familiar running friend on the trail. We exchanged casual pleasantries and talked about each others' training. It was then that he gave me the simplest of advice that triggered something for me. He said "if you're enjoying it, you'll run at your best." Suddenly, I realized what I had been doing wrong. I had started to become too concerned with the my mileage, my splits, my average pace, my times etc. Running started to become too much about the numbers for me. It was all about quantitative improvement. Constant competition. It had become a chore. A part of me felt as though I had to constantly improve or I was a failure. I had loss sight of what attracted me to the sport in the first place. The beauty of running is unequivocally the journey. It's about the run itself. I remembered back on my very first running event. It was a half marathon. I hadn't yet built any expectations for time or pace. I was just soaking in the moment. I remember the beautiful sky as the sun broke above the horizon. I remember the herd of runners all around me. I remember the incredible vibe. It was all so magical. I realized that it was what I was now missing. So I started to remind myself of these things and all of the sudden I felt rejuvenated again.

I'm happy to say that it couldn't have come at a better time. Tomorrow morning, I'll be running my eighth running event, my second full marathon. Last year ended a little on a bitter note because I struggled mightily after mile 20 with leg cramps and an injury. For the last year, I was set on redeeming myself from that performance. Now I'm only concerned about enjoying the journey.

Run happy, my friends. Run happy.