Fast is Fun

This is an older article which I used to help kick off a chapter in my latest book, 138,336 Feet to Pure Bliss. I decided to reprint it as I think given an article I read in a recent issue of Running Times really seemed to echo its sentiments.

A wonderful thing has been happening in the past decade or so: Americans are running. From 5Ks on up to the marathon and beyond, the nation is experiencing a running boom unlike no other. The American elite are winning or at least in the argument for winning marathons while further on down the ladder, runners fill the ranks from age group aces to weekend walkers. I have been very fortunate to become friends with some of the legends in the sport while also counting among my friends those who are just happy to finish a marathon under six hours. In doing so, I have noticed something surprising: a slight backlash against those who run fast.

“I run to enjoy myself and do not care about the time on the clock,” is the crux of the argument against going faster or harder. Well, that is why I run, too.  But I race for an entirely different reason. I am usually met with silence when I ask why bother even showing up for a race when a run by one’s self should create the same enjoyment. Silence is fine. I know the answer.

We all enjoy accolades. Do an 18-mile training run and no one at work cares that much. Run in the half-marathon race lined with bands, and bring home a shiny medal, and you receive mounds of attention.

Which leads to the obvious: Everyone wishes they could run faster, if even just a little bit. But why? Well, because the truth of the matter is that running fast is fun. I enjoy the leisurely pace of a long run with friends as much as the next person in short shorts and racing flats.

No, it is not that running fast goes against the enjoyment of the sport. Running fast, by whatever definition “fast” is to each individual runner, is what makes the sport what it is. That temporary flight that separates us from our grounded brethren is what drives us all.

Embrace your wings, unabashedly so.

Site Running

I once had a discussion with a friend about the word "sight seeing".  I was flabbergasted to find out it was not "site seeing" which is the only form of the word that actually makes sense. You are seeing sites. You are not seeing vision. (Yes, I know "sight" also means something worth seeing but "site' just makes so much more sense.)  Nevertheless, the best way I have found to ever actually see a locale is on your feet. Preferably at around an 8 minute per mile pace.

In Chapter 12 of 138,336 Feet of Pure Bliss entitled "This Country is Beautiful" I talk about seeing the country on foot.  To clarify, I also talk about seeing the whole world on foot.  Korea, Italy, the Caribbean.  The more I see, the more I know I have seen so little.

This past weekend I spent sometime in British Columbia. I made my first foray into the province on New Year's Eve last year because my best friend wanted to see some snow (she is from Texas) and I knew Portland wasn't going to get any.

So we hopped a plane to Spokane and picked a random city in Canada to go and play for a day. Cranbrook was our destination and using my uncanny ability to find awesome places to run, I found the Cranbrook Community Forest.  Soft powdery snow and with a temp getting no lower than 18 degrees, it was ideal. (Not to sound old fogey-esque but where in the heck did real winters go? I mean, 18 degrees for Canada in December?! That was sometimes April in Titusville when I grew up! But I digress.)

This time I wanted to take advantage of a rare weekend off and with the weather still nice headed up to points along the coast. Vancouver, Whistler, Victoria, Campbell River and the towns in between were just a few places we hit in Canada. (By the by, holy crap are ferry rides expensive. The two we had to take were about 1/3 of the total expenses for the whole 5 day trip. No wonder people stay put. As an aside, I saw there is a marathon on one of the islands in the Strait of Georgia that requires three ferry rides to get to. Yeah, I'll just by a seaplane, thanks.  Must be cheaper.)

But while the 1400 miles of driving allowed us to see some fantastic sites (thank you very much) it was when we got out of the car and went for little six milers that the true awesomeness showed itself. Granted most of it was planned as exploring for too long just wasn't in the time table, but the nuances of a town or a city are just not seen when you are in a car. Walking takes too darn long.  Being on a bike means you are always about to become fenderfood (trademarked, by the way.)  Running is the perfect blend of safety and speed that allows us to see so much of the world.

It is running that allowed me to check out the Burnaby Lake in suburban Vancouver and learn more about how it is in deed of some serious dredging.

My shoes took me to pay homage to Terry Fox statues in both his childhood home and also where he would have ended his cross-Canada journey if osteosarcoma hadn't taken his life far too soon.

I found an odd bit of art along the Victoria SeaWalk which was hidden from virtually every other view that I would have had if I had not run right next to it.

Once we left BC and headed back to Portland the long way along the Washington Coast, it was oddities like running on a beach in the westernmost zipcode in the contiguous United States that helped break up what would have otherwise been long drives.

After leaving Forks, WA (home of the Twilight saga - I am Team Dane in case you cared to know) and heading to the famous Hole In the Wall we found we could get there and back far faster than the hikers (who looked like they were going on a 7 day tour and not an hour long hike) leaving us more time to go see other things as well.

All in all, obviously a car will get you to places faster and walking will allow you to take everything in more deeply. But nothing quite melds the best of both worlds like a nice jog through the world.

So in just about a month, when I take on my 150 mile Dane To Davenport, it will be a fantastic journey of seeing the Heartland.  From Dane, Wisconsin to Davenport, IA, I will get 150 miles of roads, trails, tracks and paths to take mental pictures of to last me a lifetime. Looking forward to every step!