When I first went running . . .

Ed -

Some time running just sucks.

Of course it very rarely has to do with the fact you're running.  It usually has to do with the Peripherals, or what some folks call "Life."

I began my running career just before my freshman year in high school.  That was the summer after my mom and remarried after my parents divorce.  Enough said about that.  Anyone who's been through that as a kid knows its pretty much miserable.  I had developed a really nice distrust of adults and authority figures because if I couldn't trust what I saw in my parents why would I trust anybody else?

On top of that I was small, skinny had ridiculously low self-esteem and was pretty much awkward all over.  The chip on my shoulder, though was huge.

I'm pretty sure the only reason I agreed to join my high school's cross country team was becaused someone called up and asked me to.  Not because I was any good, mind you, I had only ever run one "race."  It was at my middle school for a field day sort of thing and I ran the mile.  I chose the mile because the only thing I was ever decent at all was running the 600 for the Presidential fitness patch.  Remember those?  Every year we had to do sit ups, pull ups, run the 50, throw a ball, other stuff, and run the 600 yard "dash."  Most kids dreaded that the most, but I didn't finish last in that one so I didn't dread it as much as the 50 which is what normally kept me from getting that stupid patch.

So I picked the mile, over the half-mile because very few other kids would choose to do it.  I wouldn't be so lousy so obviously.  I still finished somewhere back in the pack, but there was a guy at the finish line who wrote down my name and number along with my finishing time.

It was Deke Johnson.  I learned the next Fall that he held the freshman records in the mile and two mile at the high school and was just fast as crap.  Well, that note he wrote went into a file at the high school and they used that to recruit people for cross country for the Fall season.

And they called my house and said they'd like me to join the team.  I was a puny, loser kid and someone said they "chose" me and the flattery worked.  I joined the team without having a clue about what it meant.

My first exposure to training was to go to Cross Country Camp in Wilson, NC with my new coach and a bunch of guys I had never met, but they all seemed to be great friends.

Once again I was an outsider and the slowest guy there.  Pretty lousy.

On top of that I learned what a "hog" really was that week.

You see Wilson, NC is a pretty rural area surrounded by a lot of farmland, and the prime course we ran was all around and through farms.  One morning on a long run, I had been left behind by everyone else and running down a lonely road between corn fields.  Then the ruckus started.

I heard people shouting and looked towards one of the fields and saw corn stalks whipping down towards the ground a ways back in the field like a small car was driving through the field.  Only I didn't hear an engine, I just heard a sort of rumbling while people were shouting behind it somewhere.  I slowed down a second and then it shot out of the field with a leap.  A sofa with small legs came streaking out of the field and was flying towards me!

I had never seen anything so huge and fast in my life.  And then I realized it wasn't a sofa, but a pig.  A really, really big pig!  The thing was just ridiculous and muddy and running faster than I could have ever imagined a thing that big could move.  And it was coming at me.

I took off.  Scared and hauling ass down the street while this hog nearly caught up to me, then turned and headed into the other field with people chasing it.

I was able to slow down a bit later but my heart kept pumping like it was going to just pop.  I was shaking and embarassed and HATED running.

I was slow, a geek and noone on the team liked me.  And a freaking pig just about made me crap my pants.

But I was stuck there for several more days and couldn't do a thing about it.  Surprisingly I survived and, slowly, the other guys started to actually talk to me.  Took a few months, and I still was amazingly average at running, but it wasn't as hard as it was those first few weeks.  Mark, Mike, Jon, Daryl, Jim and even Deke would say "hi" to me in the halls at school, and screw with me like the freshman I was.  They would pick on me then cheer me on when I raced or was coming up last on that hill on Old Mill Road.

The chip on my shoulder was still there, but I began to use what I was learning by running long distance and applying it to my life.

Things may be tough and even painful, but they were just making me stronger.  And the more I took on, the stronger I got.  That gave me the confindence to start smiling through the hard training and the hard parts of life.  I would joke with the rest of the guys about those gut wrenching (literally) hills and intervals, and I began to joke with my other friends about how geeky I was and what family life was like at my house.

Plus just the time I was spending running became an enjoyable break from the world.  I got to focus on the trail, the pace and the run.  It was freeing.  And as each season passed I met more people, had more fun and became so much more comfortable and confident about myself.  The Peripherals were all still there, but I had something I truly enjoyed doing regardless of how good I was at it.

Now, when I think back to those years I think first about all the incredible times I had and the people I got to share them with.

Running is just so cool...