The Run Down — Training/Races

To me, the most remarkable thing about my marathon training is how it’s changed and evolved in the 15 years since my first 26.2-mile journey.

Technology has changed. Trends have changed. But, most notably, my tastes (and body) have changed.

My first race for a finisher’s medal was a relatively flat, unscenic course in an oceanfront city. What promised to be all coastline and smiles and turned out to be a slog past an endless cartoon scroll of strip malls and tire stores.

I have a confession to make: I got booted from my first ultra-relay team. No, I wasn’t kicked out of the van for stinking it up at 4 a.m.—that’s everyone. I was on an elite runner team planning on shattering the Reno-Tahoe Odyssey land speed record when a last-second ringer...

Good running trails are like children. They give you ups and downs and just when you think you’ve got it down, there’s something major to stumble over. They tire you out and push you beyond reason and yet, you always wake up and do it again next day. Why? Because nothing worth doing isn’t a little tough during the doing of it.

So how does one pick between children or narrow down their flock? Answer is, you don’t. For me there are thousands of completely worthy trails I’ve yet to make the acquaintance of and I can’t objectively say the ones below are tops; it’s like saying my family’s Thanksgiving recipes are better than yours (which they aren’t, trust me). Comparing your passion to another’s is sacred and slippery ground.

Running can be a selfish sport. Training for a marathon takes several hours away from your family each week. Long runs typically take place on a weekend when you could be doing something else fun with your loved ones. Sometimes it requires your spouse to watch your children (or in my case border collie puppies) while you run for hours on end. Then you get home and all you want to do is kick your feet up in your recliner and relax. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy running. The time I spend on the trail or road is my church, time to reflect on life. I’ve always ran for my own benefit, until this year.

How do you like your steak? Nice eyes or great smile? Which flavor ice cream? Snowy mountain or white-sand beach? Who’s your hero?

...What motivates you to run?

I’ve run enough now—on teams, in groups and as an individual—to understand what gets me out the door and lacing ‘em up can be, and usually is, nothing near the same as the hundreds of others brushing my shoulders in the starting corral. In a sense, it’s what makes running, and runners, unique.