On the road: May 2015

1. Avoid shortcuts
In my second year in high school, the day before the first cross-country race of my life, Coach Eason took us to a spot 300 metres from the finish line. There, a spur of the main footpath around the lake veered closer to the shoreline. It was a shortcut, but just barely, and it was narrower and rockier than the main route. Coach Eason advised us to stick to the main path, where the footing was surer.
The next morning, I dogged the heels of more experienced runners, and when they took the shortcut, I stayed on the main trail and sprinted like crazy. When the paths merged, I was in the lead, and I stayed there, kicking to the first victory of my career.
Shortcuts are always tempting. But taking shortcuts in daily workouts will leave you under-trained, and taking shortcuts in races can lead to unhappy discussions with race officials. And I haven’t heard of too many bosses saying, “Nice job, Smith, on the shortcuts you took in writing that report.”

2. Nothing works like work
Consistent, careful work – day after day, week after week, year after year – is what creates success in running. I found this out in my matric year in high school, when my dedication and training waned. Suddenly, runners I had easily beaten before were mowing me down.
My coach wondered if I “wanted it badly enough.” I closed my eyes and tried to want it more, but no internal dialogue could make up for my lack of training.
In running, the relationship between work and success is clear. No matter what level of talent you possess, if you train hard, you’ll improve. Life isn’t always that simple, of course, but it usually follows the same principle. Success is less a matter of talent and good luck than the product of toil and sweat.

3. Success is a team effort
Once I got to ‘varsity, my teammates all had high aspirations. So I began working hard again, mostly because they were. I also added morning workouts – because that’s what the rest of the team did. My times improved.
In my second year, we set our sights on a top placing at the National Cross-country Championships. We kept that goal in mind throughout the season, and helped each other along the way. In the end, we almost took home all the spoils. I was fourth man on the team, hanging on for dear life as we nabbed second place, nearly upsetting the favourites.
Running may be an individual sport, but success that year was largely shared. The support and example of teammates, combined with the direction of a great coach, helped pave the way to success. We live in a society where individual initiative is celebrated. But an individual’s successes are almost always nurtured, bolstered and shared by others.

4. You will fail, but that’s okay
I enjoyed lots of success in ‘varsity, and by my final year I was starting to dream big. I thought I could extend my career beyond graduation, maybe even earn a spot on the 1972 US Olympic team. That dream, though, was nearly snuffed out in the 1971 NCAA 3-mile final.
The race was in Seattle, where I had grown up, and all my friends and family were there. In my final collegiate race, I expected to duel with the great Steve Prefontaine for the victory, but instead I felt horrible and finished way back in the pack, exhausted and humiliated. I was ready to quit the sport. Fortunately, my coach took me aside and urged me to put the loss, no matter how devastating, into perspective.
There will be moments – in your running career and everyday life – when your dreams seem to collapse. If ever running offered a life lesson, this was it. Expect failures, but look beyond them – then push through them.

5. Don’t burn the candle at both ends
Actually I first heard this from Mom. Running simply proved her right. I spent the year after I graduated from ‘varsity training for an Olympic berth. I lived cheaply, worked part-time, listened to rock music and tried to improve as a runner. I increased my mileage and put myself through intense interval training. I made my first national team, proudly competing in the US/USSR Indoor Meet in March of 1972.
I was on course for a solid shot at the Olympic team, but later that spring I felt tired and weak, and finally went for a check-up. Diagnosis: Mononucleosis, and there wasn’t nearly enough time to get over it before the Olympic Trials. Maybe it was just bad luck, or maybe I had spent a few too many late nights on the party scene. Coupled with hard training, that ride took me straight to Meltdown City.
Energy supplies are limited, so don’t try to pull too much fuel from your personal tank, if you get my drift. (Don’t you just hate it when Mom is right?)

6. If you really want it, you’ll find time for it
Everyone’s favourite excuse for not running? No time. I know the feeling. I had very little free time after I took my first full-time job as a schoolteacher. I was busier than a Yorkshire terrier at a squirrel roundup, and it would have made sense to shelve my running for a while, or at least back off.
But I also sensed how close I was to making the Olympic team, so I found a way to squeeze in two workouts a day. (Forget for a moment what I said about burning candles.) Reality would hit me as I drove home from school every evening in the dark, feeling exhausted, and knowing I had a 16km run to do. I’ve had more pleasant moments. I found the time, though, or rather, I made the time. Two workouts a day, every day, because it was important.
A few years ago, I ran into a running acquaintance of mine in the video store. He told me he had stopped running. No time, he claimed. I quickly did the maths, figuring 30 minutes to choose a movie and 90 minutes to watch it. That, my friends, is just about all the time you need a week to maintain good fitness.
We live in a busy world, no doubt about it. But whether it’s staying in shape, corresponding with friends, helping at the local soup kitchen or hanging out with your kids, you can find the time – if you want to.

7. Patience pays off in the long run
Patience is a runner’s most valuable training partner. Be patient during months of steady, sometimes tedious build-up, and in the end you’ll startle yourself, not to mention the crowd at the finish line. Be patient in how you pace your next race. Don’t bolt the first kay like a ‘wabbit on the wun’ and you’ll save enough energy for a strong finish.
By the time I got to the 1976 Olympic Trials, I knew the importance of patience, especially in the marathon. I started at a steady pace, letting a dozen other runners get the early jump. By the end, though, I had moved steadily, patiently, through the crowd. I was the third qualifier, and on my way to the Olympic Games in Montreal.
There are doldrums, plateaus and setbacks along the way to any goal. Whatever you’re after, take the long view. There isn’t much patience in our modern world, but those who have it have something precious.

8. Believe in yourself
Until 1976 I had been known as a 5-K runner, so when I made the marathon team, many people thought it was a fluke. Have fun in Montreal, they seemed to be thinking. Enjoy the scenery and the French cuisine. The scenery was nice and so was the food, but I also went to the line believing I could earn a medal.
I ran the marathon the way I had run the Trials, at a steady pace, picking off runners who dropped off the lead pack. At 35km I moved into third place, and if not for a determined charge by Karel Lismont of Belgium near the end of the race, I would have had the bronze.
All the hard work and patience in the world won’t mean a thing if you don’t believe in yourself. Be reasonable and diligent, but also be positive.

9. When in doubt, keep moving
If you want doubt, run 32km, and then ponder running 10km more. We call that the marathon, and it’s a compelling instructor. As I like to put it, “All I really need to know I learned at the 32km mark of the marathon.” Keep moving. Maintain hope. Relax. But mostly keep moving.
Ah yes, keep moving. It may not be elegant, but it’s the only way to get anywhere. In ultra-marathons – races of more than 42km – that truth is sometimes all that remains. Left foot, right foot. Repeat.
There are plenty of reasons to despair. Fatigue, internal revolt, pain, doubt. When you start hearing those voices in a race, my advice is this: Don’t pay attention, and don’t ask why. Just keep moving forward. Same thing with life. When it seems ready to bring you to a standstill, don’t stand still, at least not for long.

10. Escape your comfort zone
Starting a running programme is an escape from comfort. After a while, though, steady running itself, day after day, becomes comfortable. Nothing wrong with that, except that after a while comfort short-circuits improvement. And it doesn’t lead anyplace new either.
A routine can be a good thing, but a rut is a bad place to spend much time, in running or life. I’ve had to remind myself over the years to break out of whatever comfortably numb routine I’ve fallen into. So I do some hill repeats, head to the track for interval work or go long.
A few years ago, I ran from the South Rim of the Grand Canyon to the North Rim and back. It was 66km, the course climbed (and dropped) over 3000 metres, and the journey took more than 11 hours. Tough, yes, but the adventure gave my running and my life a wonderful new depth and breadth (no canyon pun intended).
We all have Grand Canyons in our lives. Occasionally, we get uncomfortable by facing those deep doubts and fears. Once you’re through it – and you will get through it – you’ll feel bottomless satisfaction.

11. You’re never too old
In my younger days, I ached for every second in my running. Now, I just try to appreciate them. I don’t approach races with anguish anymore, wondering if I can run a little faster than I ever have, and worried how I’ll feel if I don’t. I enjoyed a dozen years of improvement, then the performance breakthroughs dried up. That bothered me for a while, then it just became part of a transition. Part of life.
I still enter many events aiming for a certain time, but more often I enjoy them for whatever they offer – adventure, challenge, scenery, camaraderie. And whatever the experience, it’s great to be in a sport where you’re never too old to take part.
It’s hard not to let the ageing process have its way, but I’ve always admired people who don’t – people who develop a new skill, embark on a different career, or decide to finally finish that degree. Or people who simply continue their life’s work with pride, long after the clock says it’s quitting time.

12. Take a break
I think one of the reasons I’ve continued running for nearly four decades is that I’ve never been afraid to take a break. Dedication is a virtue, but so is balance. Hard, consistent training is important, but so is rest. They say you should stop and smell the roses, but I prefer wildflowers. I brake for eagles, too, and osprey. Or a nice vista at sunset.
Rest, recovery, downtime, breaks of any kind are important. When your instincts say you need a rest, you need a rest. Running is hard work, and a morning of work deserves recess. Maybe even a nap. Come to think of it, wasn’t that one of those things we all learned in pre-school? Maybe that’s why little kids always have the energy to run with such unabashed joy.

Don Kardong

On the road

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

"If you really want it, you'll work for it..." And 11 other life lessons from running.

Monday, May 25, 2015

WARRIORS FOR RHINOS - WARRIOR RACE

Blog Archive

Links