The Passion Arrives

I’m about a week out from beginning training for my 16th marathon. Feelings I became very familiar with in my baseball career return. As spring training and baseball season started, I knew what was involved. On a scale of 100, 33% of me was excited as getting to do what I love and have dreamed of doing is at hand. 33% of me was anxiety-ridden as it’s always a perform-or-go-home proposition, or at the least be demoted. With running, being unable to run 26.2 miles means dropping to half-marathon status – ugh! The final 33% goes beyond anxiety into the dreadful territory. As I’ve known it, life changes into a 24/7, 7-month, one-track mind – baseball and now running. As much as you don’t want it to be your whole life, it takes over, and addiction takes hold.  

Back in the day, 1985 to be exact, Robert Palmer wrote and sang his most famous song, Addicted to Love. I will adjust the lyrics slightly here for my addiction:

Your lights are on, but you're not home
Your mind is not your own
Your heart sweats, your body shakes
Another run is what it takes

When one takes on the toughest challenges, it may require an addiction to accomplish it. Because addiction has a bad connotation, I prefer to think of it as a passion bordering on obsession. I know I’m passionate about finishing and achievement because I go into:

·       Reality mode – To win, one must face the reality of their situation. I measure the quality of a day by how few times I said, "WTF, why am I putting myself through this torture out on the trail when I could be taking it easy?" Keeping that query under five is a pretty good day.

·       Competitive mode – To win, one must fight to be better than the rest. Whenever I see a runner fly by with their chest out, I whisper, "Hey Champ; I will be out here long after you drop.” And, when you see them stop or turn around, I think, "You Wimp; I'm just warming up."  

You can't sleep, you can't eat
There's no doubt, you're in deep
Your throat is tight, you can't breathe
Another run is all you need

·       Calculating mode – To win, one must be attentive to time - fast or slow, depending on what’s best. I check my watch often to stay on pace. For me, it's to make sure I am going slow enough, with the knowledge that "speed kills." A wisecrack, but at this stage of my life, it’s a wise action.
 

·      Planning mode – To win, one must have a routine. Once again, I check my watch often but for different reasons. I love having family and friends over to hang out, but I am excited when they do not overstay so I can get to the day’s run. Haha    

You see the signs, but you can't read
You're runnin' at, a different speed
You heart beats, in double time
Another run, and you'll be mine a one-track mind

·       Defiant mode – To win, one must hold to their beliefs.  I refuse to throw out worn-out exercise clothing or shoes because I believe I will need them at some point. Until a shirt looks dreadful or shoes with many holes, they remain. It's fighting terms if a family member suggests throwing away an old, hard-earned race-event shirt. Yes - exercise clothes fill my drawers, and shoes are everywhere in my house, old and older, each with a purpose and for any weather.

·       Identity mode – To win, one must stay attentive to who they are and want to be. I cannot walk around my neighborhood alone. The fear of destroying my identity as a guy on the move, a runner, would ruin me.

Might as well face it, you’re addicted to run

·       Anger mode – To win, one may have to object to the status quo. I get very offended and must correct people when they mention a marathon is 26 miles, leaving out the .2
  

·       Grief mode – To win, one must feel life as it comes. If my step counting device (pedometer) breaks, it’s as if I lost a best friend.  

Finally, I draw the line at putting a "26.2" decal on my car, but to each his own. It's an impressive feat, so it's OK to wear it.

And so it goes, the life of an addicted, I mean, passionate runner, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. Happy Trails!