In 2009, I sat and stared at the wall in my hotel room for almost an hour. I knew sometime in my life I'd be faced with this decision-point but I didn't think it would be at the age of 31. I should be in my prime at this stage of my life but now I'm struggling to barely run a mile. I'm frustrated...mentally I can go for miles but physically I'm starting to lose my edge. This was my last "go" at running. Over the last two months, I've work up to be able to attempt a 20K run and today is the day. I was scared to leave my hotel room because I knew I was either going to come home a renewed runner or I was going to give it up. For me these were my only two options. I've chosen to run this alone. I walked outside, got into a cab and told the cabbie to take me out to a start point I've picked out. My route is along the Spokane River where I'll be able to run along fairly flat terrain. I got out of the cab, performed a nice long stretch, set my iPod to my favorite running playlist and set off. Within two miles, I was walking in sheer utter pain....the small voice in my head whispered "You're done". I would not buy another pair of running shoes until December 2011.
What got me back into running?
My Grandfather. He passed away February 2011 after an amazing battle with cancer. I needed a release the morning after he passed on so I put on some shorts put my approach shoes on and went running up the mountain near their house in Mission Hills, CA. I was running out of anger, running to feel "real" pain in hopes that it would rid the emotional pain. My hip flexors and knees were on fire as I ascended up the trail but I didn't care. Soon, the pain was too much to bare. My mind was racing with thoughts, that damn little voice was back whispering to me to "quit and walk". As I was getting ready to slow down, I flashed to seeing my Grandfather lying in bed the last few hours he was alive. I could see the extreme pain he was in and I could also see how composed he was trying to be. I knew my Grandfather was in a fight but it would only be a matter of time. I've always admired my Grandfather and there I was completely astonished at my fathers love for this world and pure grit to not give in. My Grandfather was always a fighter (literally) and he fought to the last breathe. In that moment, for the first time in my life, I witnessed a true will and passion to live. My Grandfather's last words to me were "don't be afraid because in the end, I know you'll be standing". I'm not sure what happened but I something inside me clicked. Instead of walking, I bit down and kept running. I ran the entire mountain trail up and back down. I could barely walk for weeks after that. I ran the rest of 2011 to purely mask pain with pain. I missed my Grandfather, at times, running was my way of spending time with him (in spirit). As time went by, I was able to run without much pain and slowly became disciplined to run again. I ended 2011 with a commitment to myself to keep running and ultimately race again.
Fast-forward to 2013:
I'm laying on the floor trying to stretch my sore muscles just two days after running the Rome Marathon. I'm staring at the ceiling and reflecting how far I've come along in my "come back" in running. I've been back to training for a little over a year and can not believe how much I've grown as a runner. The marathon was an eye-opener for me. This was the pinnacle of my training for almost a year. The race is finished and I still have my legs intact. I thought it was going to be harder, I thought this was going to be my last summit in running. I thought the pain would be back and I'd have to struggle. Yet, here I am staring at the ceiling. I'm watching the fan slowly rotate, I'm breathing through my deep stretches and quietly listening to that small voice in my head whisper..."You're not done yet".
What got me back into running?
My Grandfather. He passed away February 2011 after an amazing battle with cancer. I needed a release the morning after he passed on so I put on some shorts put my approach shoes on and went running up the mountain near their house in Mission Hills, CA. I was running out of anger, running to feel "real" pain in hopes that it would rid the emotional pain. My hip flexors and knees were on fire as I ascended up the trail but I didn't care. Soon, the pain was too much to bare. My mind was racing with thoughts, that damn little voice was back whispering to me to "quit and walk". As I was getting ready to slow down, I flashed to seeing my Grandfather lying in bed the last few hours he was alive. I could see the extreme pain he was in and I could also see how composed he was trying to be. I knew my Grandfather was in a fight but it would only be a matter of time. I've always admired my Grandfather and there I was completely astonished at my fathers love for this world and pure grit to not give in. My Grandfather was always a fighter (literally) and he fought to the last breathe. In that moment, for the first time in my life, I witnessed a true will and passion to live. My Grandfather's last words to me were "don't be afraid because in the end, I know you'll be standing". I'm not sure what happened but I something inside me clicked. Instead of walking, I bit down and kept running. I ran the entire mountain trail up and back down. I could barely walk for weeks after that. I ran the rest of 2011 to purely mask pain with pain. I missed my Grandfather, at times, running was my way of spending time with him (in spirit). As time went by, I was able to run without much pain and slowly became disciplined to run again. I ended 2011 with a commitment to myself to keep running and ultimately race again.
Fast-forward to 2013:
I'm laying on the floor trying to stretch my sore muscles just two days after running the Rome Marathon. I'm staring at the ceiling and reflecting how far I've come along in my "come back" in running. I've been back to training for a little over a year and can not believe how much I've grown as a runner. The marathon was an eye-opener for me. This was the pinnacle of my training for almost a year. The race is finished and I still have my legs intact. I thought it was going to be harder, I thought this was going to be my last summit in running. I thought the pain would be back and I'd have to struggle. Yet, here I am staring at the ceiling. I'm watching the fan slowly rotate, I'm breathing through my deep stretches and quietly listening to that small voice in my head whisper..."You're not done yet".
