In 1974 Jimmy Buffett recorded a classic song titled, “A Pirate Looks at Forty”. It’s about a man who reflects on his first 40 years...where he’s been, what he’s done and then thinks about his future. I believe everyone at some time or another has gone through the same phase, and I am certainly no exception.
This year has been my time for reflection and although I haven’t “done a bit of smuggling” or “run my share of grass” as the song states, there have been nearly 40 years of moments and memories (good and bad) that will last a lifetime. Many of which have come through running.
If asked, those who truly know me would probably say that I am a runner foremost. Of course I would like to think that I am much more than that but a runner is a good description of who and what I really am. It defines me. Surely you have seen me sometime and somewhere throughout the city literally sweating out many a mile. I’ve been doing so since I was a skinny, snot-nosed little 9th grader running for Kennedy in 1982. In those days, cross country courses were shorter (2 miles) but more challenging. I remember when the course at Noelridge used to cross the creek where there wasn’t a bridge! Ah the good old days...Al Stiers was a great coach and teacher, will always be a good friend, and truly knew how to design a cross country course!
I have always thought of myself as a half-miler first and distance runner second. After my track days at Coe College were over, I decided to try my legs at road racing. I found a little success but my 800 runner mentality conflicted constantly with my training as well as racing. Nontheless, I endured the long training runs through all types of weather and actually posted some decent 5K, 8K and even half-marathon times, up to the year 2000. Since then…not so much.
Although I have made a couple of appearances at local races, it has been that long since I have been in competition shape. And as I reflect over those seven years, the reasons for taking some steps back and away from running have been numerous.
There have been injuries, burn out, depression (which almost always led to a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey), self-doubt, and loss of interest (steered towards golf full-time). All-in-all, it’s been a funk…the funkiest of funks. Maybe it's a mid-life crisis calling me but I need the good years to come back. Even if it’s just for 12 months, I need to get those good running days back. So where and how does a comeback begin for an aged runner? I can’t think of any better way than through a road trip.
To me, the best way for a person to reflect on things and discover life is through a great American pasttime, the road trip. Just you, the highway, a destination, and hours of music that you would never admit to listening to. New and old sites to see. New friends to make. New adventures to write and tell others about. With no worries (outside of your car breaking down). Sounds a lot like nirvana...
I have gone on many road trips over the years...the Black Hills many times (a personal favorite), every major city in the Midwest, Florida, down to the Keys from Miami (best done in a convertible), out East, and to southern Utah. None of those are as big as the one that I am about to experience.
Some time in January I was trying to decide where to go for this year’s excursion when an idea hit...the greatest road trip I could ever make...the greatest road trip that a runner could ever make. For the next 2 weeks I will be on the road headed for some of the most memorable places that I have been to and some that I have yet to explore.
There will be National Parks, state capitals, a city solely known for a UFO crash, another known for vorteces, and a part of the world that is truly running’s holy ground.
Each day I will do a workout (what it will be depends on the location) and/or race and write about my experience...what I did, what I saw, who I met, etc. And, hopefully, I will learn something about myself, about people and other runners, and recapture that spirit. Why do I run? Why does anyone run?
So, with all of that said, a gentle turn of the key and a little pressure on the accelerator and I begin this year’s adventure. One with more meaning than ever, for I am a runner who is looking at forty and will be seeing America on a runner’s high.