Performance and Transformation

I love running on the weekend. There’s no schedule of places to go or things to do, just get out the door, which can be the hardest part. But once I’m out the door there is no reason to get back home, no appointments, no getting to work. Just bliss on the trail. This is especially the case when I take Esme, my 9-month-old daughter along in her Cardinal Red Joovy jogging stroller. Then I have the added bonus of having the best running partner along, and not feeling guilty about leaving my wife on her own to hold down the fort. Which is why I would not let a few threatening clouds hold Esme and I back this morning. We were going to have a little Daddy/Daughter time on our trail together. But the overcast clouds that I thought were moving further away from us, by 2 miles into an 8-miler had turned into threatening thunder then lightening moving closer to us. My first 2 miles had felt like I already ran 18. The previous day I was on my feet most of

How does someone cheat when they are running alone? After all, who would I be cheating? It’s not as though I’m fudging points, holding a receiver, or taking a flop to draw a phantom foul that doesn’t exist. A runner cheats when they turn back earlier than planned, when they record “extra” miles, or faster miles in their running journal than truly happened. A runner cheats when they know they should do 18 miles on a long run, but only does 14. I love running in extremes. I’ve had my Camel Back freeze in February, and I’ve suffered heat exhaustion twice. My biggest temptation to cheat is when it get’s so hot I’ve got to walk to cool down, but end up walking further than I really needed to or told myself I would. Only I know when I’ve cheated. I know when I haven’t done the miles I wanted, or the workout I had planned. Come race day I’ve noticed two things happen when I’ve been cheating. As I line up to run, there’s a nagging insecurity in my gu

I have two favorite places to run. I love running in the deep woods of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, along the shore of Lake Huron - just outside Cedarville. The other is on the mountainside of Mt. Kilimanjaro in Oloitokitok, Kenya. On the secluded trails of Michigan, my introverted nature basks in often seeing more deer than people. By contrast, in an African country that respects running and those who do it, rambling along at 5,000+ feet of elevation, as a 6 foot tall white man going down secluded streets and countryside, I receive more thumbs up, clapping, and smiles than I will see other white people. It’s like doing a training run with crowd support. When I run in these locations, I have to restrain myself from going out twice a day, or running further than I should. When I’m in Michigan or Oloitokitok it feels like a running honeymoon. The everyday six-miler has the potential to become my own Walden Pond. Rece