Focus

One thing I enjoy about long, uninterrupted trail runs, like the one yesterday morning for 27 miles, is the precious time spent thinking about life.  Thankfully, I was able to spend most of that time alone during the race, which is my preferred way to run. The darkness at the start of the run where, if you just let your mind relax, it's quite easy to see all the details of the trail (except when the guy 5 feet behind you thinks a headlamp is necessary). The rocks, the roots, the ledge drops, the twists and turns--it's all manageable if you just relax and trust your instincts and let the feet follow. I love running sans headlamp on trails in the dark, except during the Summer when I'm more concerned about stepping on a snake. The darkness heightens the senses. But, all of these words are just a distraction from where most of my thoughts have been lately while on those sometimes dark, twisty, rocky trails.

The last few months have been focused on training for a race.  A race that isn't a goal race, per se, but a necessity to provide an opportunity to, once again, go through a process that has been an emotional roller coaster for me the last five Decembers--2007 to be exact.  It's something which has been a conflict in my mind for the past several months and, finally, came to a crescendo yesterday morning while I was running in the pouring rain and hoping it would never stop during those 4+ hours.

I've talked, at length, with Olga about this and last evening came to a final decision it is time to let things go.  To realize I am not willing to sacrifice the first half of my year training like a madman for a race I have unfairly put on a pedestal.  Believing it is a requirement to run it in order to be viewed as an ultrarunner. That viewpoint is one from the past and not who I consider myself today.  It's similar to the mindset that to be a marathoner, you have to run Boston.  And, while I qualified for that race, I never had a desire to make that trip because it was unimportant to me.  There are things we do in life because we think it is what is expected and not necessarily right for us.

As we progress through life, things change, even if we try to ignore it and continue to live in the past.  I'm a different person than I was in the Fall of 2007 when I first entered the Western States lottery.  Today, there are obligations outside of training and races that take precedence--family, household projects, and work.  A few years ago, I believe training was a priority and was blinded by selfish desires to associate my self worth with how fast I could run or what others thought of me in regard to running.  That's a poor way to live.

Yes, I'm a runner, but that doesn't define who I truly am. I'm a husband, father, friend, someone who loves being out in nature, looks forward to the Fall season and gets a little depressed when I start thinking about how many more I will experience before I take my last breath. I love getting into the details of many things, especially when it's doing projects around the house. I consider myself a traveler, which is something I believe my grandfather instilled in me during my early childhood years when I went on vacations with my grandparents. There are so many places I want to see with my own eyes: the Dolomite's, high villages in the Alps, New Zealand, Lake Baikal, Patagonia, the Canadian Rockies, Montana, run all the way around Mount Rainier, visit a dear friend's grave in the Oklahoma panhandle whom I never got the chance to say goodbye to when he became ill with a still incurable disease.

My point is, I am much more than running. And, while I will still run races and "hunt" people down on the trail, it doesn't trump everything else in my life.  As each years passes, a person, hopefully, realizes just how precious and short our time is on this pale blue dot called Earth.  When you're young, time is cheap. But, now, there's a sense of urgency to prioritize what's truly important.  It's been a long process to slowly discover who I am as a person and what I want out my remaining years.  There's a certain level of impatience that has surfaced.  Impatience with not spending time or conversations on things which are unimportant to me and, instead, focusing on what will truly enhance each day, each week, each year.

Because, when you really think about it, no one really cares if I run a race in the Sierra Nevada mountains and I've, finally, realized I was caring too much about what everyone else thought and not enough time realizing there's a lot of life left to be lived.