Getting Back to Our Roots

Ever notice how the big sports in this country (and, indeed, the world) are rather... convoluted?  Football, baseball, soccer, basketball, hockey... they may have begun as something simple and intuitive, way back when, but you wouldn't really know it by looking at all the rules and restrictions that players have to comply with today.  You can throw the ball, but only in this direction unless it's at this time.  You can hit the other guy, but not like that.  It can be quite a challenge, I've discovered to try to describe to a newbie just what exactly is meant by 2nd Down, Pass Interference, Illegal Block in the Back, False Start, Encroachment, Offsides... and that's just one sport!

Now, don't get me wrong, I like these sports and they can be a lot of fun.  No doubt in my mind that there are individuals that are born to play a particular sport.  My point is that most sports are rather contrived and counter-intuitive to the uninitiated.

Athletics (running, jumping, throwing), on the other hand, has been described as "pure" sport, and the running part even more so.  Our rules are rather simple: start at this point, go to that point, first one to do so is the winner (or, "the one that throws the farthest," etc.); along the way, don't interfere with the other guy and don't take shortcuts.

And that's about it.  Other rules that come along usually have to do with standardization of implements (a javelin is to weigh X kg) such that the sport has some basis of comparison whether you are competing in New York or in Mumbai.

(Swimming would also fall under this category, as would cross country skiing and speed skating.  However, these sports have shown that equipment and new technology can affect the sport to an extreme degree, so I tend to be a bit biased against them in the "purity" aspect.  If you don't believe me, just look at the crazy number of records that fell in swimming at the last Olympics, and then tell me it was just because people "got better" all of a sudden... or was it, perhaps, because they had new toys that made them slipperier in the water?  Conversely, track spikes keep getting lighter and lighter... but records aren't falling like dead leaves in October.)

When all is said and done, it really comes down to my ability vs. your ability.  Period.  Fouling in races happens so seldom, it practically creates an international scandal when it does, whereas in the NFL, I'm sure referees have retired early due to tendinitis from throwing too many penalty flags...

In fact, I think it goes even further than that: it comes down to my ability today vs. my ability yesterday.  True competition isn't against the guy running next to you: it's against yourself.  And I can think of few other sports where you can actually measure your progress without ever going head-to-head against another individual.

Now that is pure sport.

Or is it?  In our modern age, I think even the simplest of sports has been somewhat corrupted in the name of standardization.  The main adversaries to a runner are the quality of the running surface, the steepness of the terrain, and the weather.  So what do we do?  We run all of our events on nice, flat synthetic tracks inside big stadiums.  Great for spectating and you can produce some fast times.  Fast is exciting, right?  Maybe for the 100m, but see how many people stick around to watch all 12½ laps of the 5,000.  Even the marathon - the King of Distance Races - is only showcased for the last 300m or so when the athletes finally enter the stadium (and recently, the trend has been to host the entirety of the marathon outside the stadium... on a loop course such that spectators can see the athletes several times in the race without moving).  Even in the world of road racing, it's a rare thing to find a course that is truly challenging: the (official) world record for the marathon has been set several times consecutively in Berlin, where the course is flat as a pancake.

When faced with what the outside world sees when looking in at my sport, I can totally understand why is doesn't produce much interest.  Running has become - quite honestly - intensely boring and sterilized.

How did it get this way?  What happened to the races where the entire town turned up to cheer and watch with keen interest?  What happened to the excitement?

A full sociological discussion of the decline of running in the public eye would take far too long, and I'm not really qualified to analyze that anyway (eclectic, yes; sociologist, no).  I do, however, believe I have an idea about part of the cure.  We, as a society, should get back to what made the sport of running exciting to begin with.  We should get back to Cross Country.

Back in the day (1800's, and earlier, beginning in England), cross country running was the only running there really was.  Young men showed up at Point A, a gun was fired, they ran across a field - and fences and ditches and hedges and around buildings and through buildings - toward Point B.  Maybe it was multiple loops, or maybe there was no defined course at all.  Most of the time, there was no measurement of the course and there was no clock.  Whoever got to Point B first was the winner.

And interestingly enough, often the whole town turned out to watch!  Clubs were formed, teams trained together, and running mattered to the public.  Why all this excitement?  Personally, I think it comes down to one basic concept: pure sport.

Me running a race in 2007 in Boulder...
on 3" of fresh powder!

Cross country in its original form is truly "pure" sport.  Pure sport can be defined as "an athlete's struggle and persistence which is occurring amidst tough competition, course elements, and extreme physical pain, all within the natural setting and landscape of the existing environment" (Lancaster, Audrey B., "Enhanced Cross Country Running Course Design: A Study of Historic and Recent Courses, Other Landscape-Based Sports, Athlete Psychology, and Course Elements", Utah State University, 2011).  People identify with struggle, and the more you either remove elements of struggle or introduce artificial elements into said struggle, the less relatable the struggle becomes. I think people desire to see athletes navigating tough terrain and splashing through streams, and I think deep down athletes desire to tackle said obstacles.  You can get that in cross country; on the track, the only struggle is the distance itself, and the most you can get out of a road race is a few hills.  The original sport offered excitement to both the athlete and spectators.  Modern cross country has mostly done away with a lot of that, as well, being relegated to flat golf courses... track, just on the grass.

Cross country is really how the modern world was introduced to running as a sport.  Indeed, it is still the way that most modern runners get hooked on the sport.  I know it was that way for me, even though I had run 2 seasons of track before tackling the hills of Franklin Park.  Shoot, the 5k of high school cross country isn't even my best race - I'm really a miler and half-miler - but it's STILL my favorite sport!  (Most people know me as a steeplechase fanatic, and that's true; I see it as cross country on the track.  I'll still take cross country in general to steeplechase on the track, though.  Better yet... add barriers and water hazards to cross country races, and I'd be in hog heaven!)

So why is it, then – if it's so cool in high school and college – that cross country essentially disappears from the radar once you are an "adult" runner?  Those meets that do allow community runners never really attract much attention.  A Turkey Trot 5k or 10k, though, will attract thousands.

As with most things in this overly-commercialized country, I think it comes down to marketing.  Did you know, for instance, that cross country used to be an event at the Summer Olympics?  The last Olympic cross country race was held in Paris in 1924.  According to Lancaster, it “was held in the afternoon amidst blistering conditions with temperatures soaring into the high 90’s; it was one of the hottest days ever recorded in Paris during that time.  Thirty-eight runners toed the line at the start of the race, but with each passing mile one after another fell.  After battling the extreme weather and course conditions of the 10,650 meter race, only fifteen of the thirty-eight runners finished.  The remaining twenty-three runners were rushed to the hospital and tended to for heat exhaustion and various other conditions.”

Olympic cross country, 1924 (from urheilumuseo.org)

Sounds like a great plug for the sport, eh?  Lancaster continues: “It was not only the weather conditions that decimated the runners, but also the condition of the course.  The course was laid on an uneven stone path with weeds and thistles protruding from the stone crevasses; some of the plants rose to knee high on the runners.  Additionally, the site of the course was poorly selected; the location was adjacent to an energy plant that emitted toxic fumes.”

The result?  Bureaucrats freaked out and banned cross country from the Olympics, the largest public stage for athletics of any kind in the world.  The IAAF (International Athletics Associations Foundation) still holds a bi-annual World Cross Country Championships (previous to this year, it was held annually), but it receives almost no coverage here in the States.  The public is oblivious; cross country is just for kids.

So, the first step to reinvigorating cross country in the adult public's eye is simple: reintroduce cross country as a Summer Olympic sport.  Simple, but not easy, as the IOC is rather set in its ways.  There is currently a growing movement to get cross country added to the Winter Olympics, and this fits the standard cross country season (fall and winter, with the World Champs held in March).  For the sake of marketing and popularity, however, I personally think it should be part of the Summer Games.

The next part in marketing is the hosting of races open to the public.  A few high school and collegiate meets have a "community race" as part of the day's activities, sort of as a side-show.  These seem to be few and far between, though, as are the meets that are completely separate from school races: the Mayor's Cup in Boston's Franklin Park is one high-profile example.  That's just the problem, though: I can't think of any other high-profile events.  Some "trail" races exist, but they're not really the same as cross country; there's a different feel to them.

Partially, this is just due to awareness: the public knows about and is willing to accept the idea of road races, but no one thinks of cross country.  Getting the sport back into the Olympics will help change that.  The other part is the lack of venues for hosting races.  Sure, there are parks and open spaces all around that may be suitable, but planning out a cross country course isn't as easy as it sounds.  It is a lot easier for a race director to plot out a course on the roads, and I think that that's one of the reasons road races are so much more prevalent.

The best cross country races are all on land that has been specifically set aside for the sport, with courses specifically tailored to the land on which they sit.  Exclusive cross country courses are challenging yet safe and fair, with good footing and well-defined routes.  Often, they are also spectator-friendly, with spots where you can see all of or at least most of the course at once.  Most people haven't a clue that these exist, and even if they do they are seldom allow to run on them as they are generally used only for high school or college meets.  Exclusive courses include:

• LaVern-Gibson Championship XC Course, Terre Haute, IN (Indiana State U.)
• Rim Rock Farm, Lawrence, KS (University of Kansas)
• Big Cross Country Course, Pasco, WA
• Thetford Academy, Thetford, VT (Thetford Academy HS)
• Dannehl XC Course, Somers, WI (University of Wisconsin-Parkside)
• Apple Ridge Cross Country Facility, Yakima, WA (Central Washington University)
• Buff Ranch, Boulder, CO (University of Colorado)
• Princeton University, Princeton, NJ
• Crystal Springs, San Mateo, CA (College of San Mateo)

The LaVern-Gibson XC Course as seen in Google Earth.  The many interior loops make the course modular, allowing
distances from 4k to 10k.  The NCAA Div. I Champs are annually held on this course.

When you have a chance, look these up on the internet and see what an exclusive cross country course has to offer.  There are others, and most are hidden away on university campuses.  Start promoting the snot out of open-to-public races on these courses - including adding a community race to existing school meets - and you'll see cross country start to grow in the public's eye.  We still have enough open space in this country that each state - if not each large city - should have several well-known cross country courses.  They could be owned/donated by private individuals, but most likely they would be owned and operated through a partnership of universities, high schools, and city government.  A well-written agreement would be a win-win situation for all involved.

Finally, cross country is traditionally a team sport, and I think that the team element is something completely lost in modern running.  Teams score points by adding together the finishing position of each individual runner, and the lowest team score wins.  As is often the case, the individual winner's team does NOT win, because places 2, 3, 5, 7, and 10 are all from the same team: close groupings are often more effective.  The focus tends to shift away from the top runners and back to the 4th and 5th runners of a team: that's where the team race is really won!  This lends a sense of significance to every runner on the course, not just the race for the top spot.  Everyone likes to be part of a team, part of something greater than themselves, and offering this team element as a regular option in public cross country races will make it an experience runners can't find anywhere else.

Everyone likes an adventure, but modern running has become so controlled as to become boring and predictable.  Bring back cross country, and you bring back the adventure.

Injuries and God

Here in Colorado, the nutzy yo-yo weather of late winter finally seems to have broken.  The sun is out, temps are flirting with the mid-60's, just a gentle breeze... in short, it's glorious running weather, and I'm itchin' to get outside!

But this week... I'm recovering from an injury.  No running for me.

I am pout.

This particular injury is some kind of minor strain in my right calf/achilles.  About 2 weeks ago, during the strides at the end of a 30 minute run, something went <YOINK!> and I sorta hobbled home.  It wasn't bad, but enough that I wasn't going to push it.  It felt something like a cross between a tear and a cramp.  After a couple days off, I hit the treadmill (it was silly cold and windy outside) to test things out... and barely made a mile, again stopping at the point where I knew I hadn't hurt it any more but was definitely headed that way.  A very frustrated Brian went back to the drawing board...

A couple days later I tried a different strategy.  I again used the treadmill, mostly because it was a highly controlled environment, and started off just walking.  After a couple minutes, I bumped up the speed by half a mile per hour to a fast walk.  So far so good.  Up by another 0.5 and I was jogging really slow, and every 2 minutes I kept increasing my speed to the point where I felt my calf tiring more than I would expect, then dropped it back down to a walk and repeated the cycle, sort of a slow "acceleration run" (see Daniels 5-15k training plan).  After 2 sets of 4 min. walk/8 min. jog, I could definitely tell it was time to stop, but, again, it wasn't to the point of pain.  Two days later I tried again, this time going for 2 sets of 10 min. jog, and it felt really good, strong, with no hint of tiring or pain in the calf.  Rock on.

Now, in this last set, I still hadn't gone any faster than just over 9:00/mile, and "normal" easy runs for me are in the 8:15-8:45 range.

After another 2 days of rest, I hit it again, this time going for sets of 12 minutes, where the last 2 minutes would be right about "normal" pace.  Everything went fine...

... until the very last 2 minutes.  <YOINK> and I hobbled home again.  Couldn't push off that foot when walking, much worse than when it first happened.  Even iced it that night (which isn't something I often do).

So, as I was laying there on the couch, feeling frustrated and angry and miserable about myself, I started praying.  When I got done with the obligatory "God, what the *&$# is going on??!!!" I started asking, "OK, what should I do next?"  After all, I was at my wits end, and I really desired to move beyond this and get into some real training (I can only handle so much easy jogging before I have to go find a track or a long hill and really punish myself... yeah, it's weird, but that's just me).

First observation: why are we so pig-headed that we wait until AFTER we're at our OWN wits end to ask this question?  Ever notice how it's always after everything has already gone wrong?  Wouldn't it make sense to ask it first and just avoid all the drama?

Back to my prayer: in response, I heard, "Do you trust Me?"

Next observation: EVERYTHING in life comes down to level of trust in God.  Period.  And most of us have been pretty screwed up and twisted around by the world and have some major trust issues, especially when it comes to God.  So, when I heard this return question, it really made me cringe a little bit; usually, it means I'm about to be asked to do something I'd rather not do.

Third observation: why, when we're being asked of something by God, do we automatically think it's a bad thing?  Are we really so arrogant to think that our plan is better than His?


And yet... we still tend to not listen.

So, this time, I sighed a heavy sigh and said, "OK, I trust you... what should I do?"

"Don't run for a week; 7 days, no running."

"BUT... NO!  It's supposed to be so nice next week, and... and I've got a training schedule and I'm already behind on it... and... can't you just zap it make it all better??!"

"Do you trust Me?"

<siiiigh> "OK... no running for a week."

Why is that so hard to do?

Anyway, I'm now looking out the window at a gorgeous Monday afternoon and wishing my calf weren't sore so I could be out running.  I won't run until Saturday, though, even if I feel good enough to, 'cause Papa said so.  And you can bet when I get up Saturday morning that the first thing I'll do is ask Him exactly what KIND of workout I should do, and then I'll do THAT and not whatever has popped into my head in the meantime.

Final observation: wouldn't it make sense to do that with everything we do?  After all, we Christians call ourselves followers of Christ.  Something tells me that that isn't just a euphemism for "believe in."  To follow, we require instructions, otherwise we're just staggering around blindly.  Yes, the Bible is the first source for that, but I have yet to find the verse that says, "And on the 3rd day, runneth thou four sets of nineteen thousand cubits, and resteth thou two minutes."  For that kind of direction, we gotta ask the question.

And we gotta listen to the answer.

Training

There are two kinds of runners out there, or perhaps two seasons that runners alternate between: “Just Running” and “Training.”  Training to me means that the person is following a specific plan in a build-up to a specific event – a marathon, a track meet, or what-have-you.  Just Running is all the other times, where you go out for a run just… ‘cause, just to run.  Some runners live their whole career in the zone of Just Running, and that’s fine.

Me, however?  I’m in Training.

“For what?” you might ask.  “The next race,” I would answer, and sometimes that means I’m looking a year down the road.  Even if I’m just jogging a few times a week (as I am right now), as far as I’m concerned it’s still Training and I’m following a specific plan to achieve a specific level of fitness that will serve as a base on which to build the NEXT level of fitness.

As a friend of mine recently commented, “That seems a lot more… scientific than I’ve been doing it.”  You could also say “rigid.”  Well, yeah: that’s ‘cause I’m a linear-sequential sorta dude, and that’s the only way I know how to look at it.  I’ve tried the Just Running thing before, and though I sometimes like to toss a Just Running day in from time to time, just to break things up, in the long run I just don’t get anywhere with it.  I lose motivation, mileage drops off, and pretty soon I’m just sitting around on my rear-end, slowly turning to flab.

“And you say running is a passion???  Wouldn’t you just be out there running for the sheer joy of it?”

A fair question, and I can definitely say that there are runs and/or workouts that I like to do just ‘cause they’re fun.  However, my main passion in running comes from running fast, from testing myself against the clock or the course.  The sort of races I’ve considered “fun” aren’t the sort that most people pick (in fact, most people think I’m pretty much insane when I talk about my favorite races).  It’s a process of continual self-improvement, measured finitely.  And I’ve learned that success doesn’t happen by accident; you need a plan.

Therefore, I Train.

Now, there are about as many training philosophies and systems out there as there are runners, and many different people have had success following many different plans.  This stems from the fact that each of us is unique in our physiology.  Yes, we all produce lactic acid and use oxygen to fuel the metabolic process in our cells and use that heart-muscle thing to keep the blood flowing, but each of us processes that lactic acid at a different rate and has a heart that is stronger or smaller or whatever.  As a great example, in college I started using a heart rate monitor in my training.  I found I could push my heart rate up to just shy of 200 and did my “easy” runs at about 160.  All of that lined up with the “typical” numbers that you get from the “standard” formulas.  At the start of the next season, I noticed one of the other guys was using a monitor as well and we started swapping stats.  He was incredulous that I ran at 160 because his MAX was less than that!  And he was out-running me in just about every way!

Broad generalizations are a good place to start, but after that you really have to focus on what works for you.  Different people respond differently to different types of training.

My current philosophy of training has its beginning in high school, as that was the first time I was presented with an organized training regime.  (I obviously did some kind of training in middle school, but I honestly have no recollection of what we did.)  It was there I was really introduced to intervals, fartlek, tempo runs, and the like.

Actually, that pretty much sums up my training in high school: intervals, fartlek, and tempo runs.  Oh, and we’d get an easy day the day before a meet.  Sometimes.

Now, a bit of disclaimer here: some of you who read this will know the coach I am about to reference.  I’m not trying to cut into said coach’s character or put him down in any way.  The knowledge he passed on to us was the best he knew, and he did the best job he could.  This is simply an analytical observation of the effectiveness of that training plan from my point of view and how my body responded to it.

That being said… the training plan was flawed.

The story, as best I can remember it, is that back in the ‘70’s my coach had a batch of super-runners come through.  They could handle whatever workloads were thrown at them, and in fact thrived on it.  I think they won state that year, and when I was in school you still saw several of their names holding school records.  The problem was that coach then saw the plan that worked for them must then be the formula that would work for everyone…

… and when I was running there 20 years later, he was using the same formula.  No new research, no adjustments.  We would often hear statements that this particular workout was the same that so-and-so did at this same point in the season the year he won state (or set that record, or whatever).  And we, as relatively uneducated young runners, ate it up.

What was the plan?  In short, it was “run hard.”  And when you were done with that, run hard some more.  And then some more.

Years later, I went back through my running journals from that time period and discovered that the only “easy” days we had were either a) the pre-meet workout, or b) Sundays, if I didn’t go running.  That last was discouraged, as we were told, “Every day you don’t run takes 7 days of running to make up for it.”  No joke.  The Sundays I DID meet up with the guys turned into tempo runs.  In the month of October, 1994, I have only 5 “easy” days recorded, one of which was a no-run the day after Districts and the other 4 were pre-meet days.

Two-thirds of the way through every season, I was running on dead legs, and I had no clue why.  My best performances each season – track and cross country both – generally came in week 6-8 in a 10-12 week season, with few exceptions.

Interestingly enough, those exceptions had something to do with more recovery days.

1995 was a big disappointment, running-wise.  Half way through the track season (just after I had set my PR of 4:52 for 1,600m), I was knocked out by a stomach flu that I never really recovered from that season.  Then, after putting in probably my best summer of running to date, I was out most of cross country trying to work through injury (ITB Syndrome… avoid that one if you can, it’s no fun) and had had a… let’s call it a disillusionment with my coach.  Coming into track that next spring, I was starting to realize that a) there wasn’t enough recovery time in our weekly training and b) Coach wasn’t the God of All Running Knowledge that I had thought of him as.  As it happened that season, I switched down in distance to the 800m (previously, I was always a miler), took nearly 2 weeks off in the middle of the season (for a class trip to the Grand Canyon; I could have run, but really couldn’t be bothered in the midst of all that fun!), almost NEVER ran on Sundays… and PR’ed at the District meet, running 2:06.

Now… could I have run faster that year if I hadn’t taken that mid-season break?  Probably.  But one thing I DO know: I almost always felt fresh and ready to run.  Multiple-race meets (always a bane to me previous years) were no problem: the week before that 2:06, I had PR’ed with a 2:07 just a couple hours after running my first 1,600 of the year.  That would have been unheard of in previous seasons.

Clearly, there’s something to this whole “rest” thing.

The second thing I FINALLY learned that season was how to pace myself in a race.  I had always gone out too fast, caught up in the adrenaline of the start of the race, and died at the end.  Even my “best” runs had huge positive splits.  My 4:52 (73 pace average) is split up 70-71-74-77.  That spring, though, running the 800, I figured out how to “float” the first lap and then bring it home hard.  Negative or even splits were more common that year than positive.  And that random 1,600 that I ran at the end of the season?  4:56, split up 75-77-75-69, and I passed something like 7 or 8 kids on the last lap.  It was great!  (I know I could have run a faster time that day, had I been running the distance all season long, but I had lost the “feel” for it and was honestly just guessing my way through it.)

In college, although my running itself fell away a bit, I was able to do more study on the subject.  In high school, the only resources I had were… my coach.  We didn’t even have a specialty running store in town (and to my knowledge, they still don’t): the closest is 2.5 hours away in Seattle.  When I got to college, I not only had running stores around but I had the internet suddenly available to me.

The first major eye-opener was just the sheer volume of miles that my college coach was asking us to run in the off-season.  The 3 months on either side of the racing seasons to me had always been a rest time: low mileage, “fun” runs.  The 10 weeks of the official season was about actually getting in shape, to peak for the District meet and hopefully go on from there.  Little did I know that all of the quality work during the racing season was only truly effective if you had built the proper base during the off-season.

The second influence on me was the idea of using a heart rate monitor to gage effort.  My main source is a book called Training for Endurance, by Dr. Phil Maffetone (see my Resources page for a full bibliography).  Also from Maffetone:

• Carbohydrates aren’t necessarily the runner’s super-food that I had always thought they were, and just what sort of diet was more beneficial for both endurance training and life in general.
• With running shoes, less is more, even with someone with flat feet like me – today, I run almost exclusively in Vibram Five Fingers®.
• The idea of a large base of highly aerobic (i.e., “easy”) running to support any other training was reinforced, this time with the science to help clarify the concept.

 After college, as noted in a previous post, running took a bit of a back seat in my life.  At some point I had picked up Hal Higdon’s How to Train, and have used the plans therein from time to time, including building up for a half-marathon.  The plans there are proven, in the sense that they worked for the people who published them.  However, there isn’t much “why” behind them.

I’m a “why” guy.  It is a Moral Imperative, as far as I’m concerned.

A few years ago, I was recommended to Daniels’ Running Formula, by Dr. Jack Daniels.  For the first time in my life, someone explained to me all of the “whys” behind the “whats.”  Daniels corroborates, explains, and expands upon everything I had learned up to that point, and even goes as far as saying several times that even with all of his research into the general way of things, it still comes down to figuring out your own body.  Reading Running Formula, I learned more about my sport than I had in the 15 years prior.  I love his scientific, measured approach, and the book has become my main textbook.

The final piece to my training is a spiritual element.  In 2006, I gave my life over to Jesus, and since then it has been an on-going process of learning to hear His voice, guiding me in every-day life.  I figure that this includes running, and have several times held off training or done something different based on what I feel led to do.  Most recently, I’ve been encouraged about taking this approach by the training of Ryan Hall, who has decided to not employ a coach and plan his ENTIRE training schedule based on the leading of the Holy Spirit.  The results have been pretty good… if you consider a 2:04:55 Boston Marathon merely “pretty good.”  This, for the foreseeable future, is also the path I endeavor to take.

So, Brian’s Training Philosophy, in a nutshell:

1. Follow the prompting of the Holy Spirit
2. Understand the “why” of every workout
3. A large base of aerobic, easy miles
4. Plenty of recovery days, to get the most out of the quality days
5. A healthy diet, based on a high percentage of veggies
6. Minimalistic running shoes, for a more natural (and therefore healthy) experience
7. Negative splits – save something for the end!

And that doesn't include anything like goal-setting or positive self-talk or several other thing - this is just the physical part.  This is, as with everything, a work in progress, and much of my joy in running comes simply from the learning.

Train on, friends, and I’ll see you at the next Start Line!

So... why "Eclectic?"

eclec-tic, adj, \e-‘klek-tik, i-\

1 : selecting what appears to be best in various doctrines, methods, or styles

2 : composed of elements drawn from various sources

Origin: Greek eklektikos, from eklegein to select, from ex- out + legein to gather

(from www.merriam-webster.com)

In our modern world, it seems to me that people identify (themselves and others) with singular labels.  This guy is a Lawyer, that gal is a Doctor, etc., etc., etc.  It’s convenient and easy for us to visualize a person within a well-defined box.

Cross country in the snow.  Yup: crazy!

Me: I’m a Runner.

I bet you just got a very specific visual: skinny, short shorts, up early to put in a quick 15 miles in the freezing cold.  And crazy to boot.

So, hold onto that visual.

I’m also a Musician.  A Runner and a Musician.  (New visual: “Runner,” as before, but in a beetle-back tux.)

And a Christian.  A Runner, a Musician, and a rabid Christian.  (Runner, in a tux, crossing himself every 10 steps.)

Oh yeah, and I’m also…

You get the point?  Each and every one of us is a multi-faceted individual, with many different interests and/or passions.  Box-people need not apply.

This is my list, in order of importance.

First, I’m a Christian.  Bona fide Jesus Freak.

Second, I’m a Husband.  My relationship with my wife is the most important thing in this world to me, outside of that with my Lord and Savior.  Words can’t describe how amazing she is, and I can’t imagine life without her.

Third, I’m a Runner.  Duh.

Forth, I’m a Musician, specifically a bass trombonist, vocalist, and theorist.  I have a smattering of skill on other instruments and have dabbled in composition.  Outside of running, music in general – and trombone specifically – is my other passion in life.

Actually… maybe music is 3^rd and running is 4^th… depends on the day.

Me and my beautiful wife, Sarah, on
the beach in Maui.  I went on my first
beach run that day, and I loved it!

Fifth, I’m a Traveler.  Some of my greatest pleasures come from visiting new places (and then running there!).  This world has far too many cool things to do and see to just sit at home!  To this point, luxury cruising is my favorite mode of locomotion.

Me and Sarah hiking Chasm Lake
on Longs Peak

Sixth… everything else.  I’m a life-long learner, and nearly any new subject can suck me in like a black hole.  I’m particularly keen on aviation and military history and just about anything related to nature.  I love to read and really enjoy a good story: sci-fi and fantasy are favorites, and military history.

I'm in the green, and that's
totally a kill shot to his ribs.

I’m a swordsman, and I studied Renaissance rapier and smallsword for about 10 years starting in college.  I’m WAY out of practice right now and itchin’ to start again soon!  I love getting outdoors, and every summer my wife and I do a number of hikes in the beautiful Rocky Mountains, within spitting distance of our home.  I’m a role-player… yes, kinda like the Dungeons & Dragons thing (but probably not as dorky as you’re thinking).  I also enjoy board games of many types, especially strategy/tactics games.

How’s your visual now?

I guess my point is this: you can’t really put “me” in a box of any shape.  I probably couldn’t put you in a box, either.  Running may color the way I see life, but it’s not the complete picture.  That’s really what this blog is about: my life, in total, colored by my passion for running.

So come run – and play trombone, and travel, and learn, and fence, and read, and game – with Eclectic Me.  At the very least, it won’t be boring.

Oh… and “up early” is a four-letter word, as far as I’m concerned.  Run on, my friends!

Welcome to The Eclectic Runner!

Greetings!  My name is Brian Goff, and I will be your host here at The Eclectic Runner!  This blog will be about my experiences in and thoughts about life, all from my unique perspective on the world: that of a life-long runner.

The Skinny Whimp

My journey as a runner began for me in 7^th grade, when I signed up for spring track.  I was tired of being “the skinny, whimpy nerd,” and I saw athletics as a way to prove myself.  As for my choice of sports… well, I didn’t like soccer or baseball, and football seemed like a good way to commit suicide (“skinny whimp,” remember?).  The one thing I COULD do, though, was run.  So that’s what I did.

Long story short, I thought I was a sprinter and jumper that first season.  I was wrong.

In 8^th grade, with much skepticism, I let my coach convince me to join up with the distance crew.  I hated it from the start… but by the end of that season, I had broken 6 minutes in the mile (a feat which I had previously thought impossible for me) and I was irrevocably hooked.

Cross Country at Franklin Park

High school for me was ALL about running.  I’m certain some academics happened in there, and a few other cool activities, but all of that was secondary to the yearly rhythm of: cross country in the fall; cold, cold miles and stairs in the auditorium over the winter; track in the spring; and the lax days of summer, packing in the miles for cross country.  To this day, it is as close to Running Heaven as I’ve ever experienced.

Now, I was never the star of the team, or even really in the lead pack.  I never advanced beyond our District meet, the State meet was a spectator event for me, and the only races I ever won were a couple 800’s at JV meets my senior year.  I was the perennial middle-of-the-pack-er, always riding the line between JV and Varsity.  Frustrating, I admit, but it never really got me down; it just made me go out and work harder.  By graduation (Class of ’96, baby!), I had run 17:35 for 3 miles cross country, 4:52 for 1,600m, 2:06 for 800m, 10:59 for 3,200m, earned 3 Varsity Letters, and was named Captain of the cross country team.

The Running Shrine, Spring of '96

Now, I know those numbers aren’t much to brag about – indeed, even at 34 years old I’m looking to one day better those – but I am still very proud of those accomplishments.  The main reason is this: I earned them the hard way.  While others around me were running those times in their sleep and talking about qualifying for State, I was working hard just to make Varsity.  While they were joking about how “easy” it was to meet the Letter standards, I was working hard to hit the standards of classes two years younger than me.  While they were taking for granted the gifts that had been given to them, I was working my butt off because I loved what I was doing.

Me and a roommate: drowned rats after
a run in a summer downpour.

Oh, the Hair...

After graduation, my running career really took a down-turn.  My training in high school (to be ranted about at a later date) really didn’t prepare me for the college scene.  Mileage increased dramatically, and I had never really grasped the type of offseason training that was really required to be successful.  Also, I had to make the adjustment from the 1,200’ elevation of Yakima, Washington, to the 5,700’ of Golden, Colorado, which for some reason took me nearly a year to really become acclimated.  Anything over 5k – or even just 2 miles – is a LONG race for me, so the 8k of cross country was fairly frustrating, as were the 8-mile “easy” days (in high school, a “long” run was 6 miles).  Indoor track was really just “winter training” as far as I was concerned, and then we were into my real passion on the track: steeplechase!  (I had been introduced to the event at a summer track camp a few years earlier, and spent the rest of my high school career just itching to get to college so I could run the thing for real!)  But even that proved a mediocre endeavor, and I finished that first season with a PR of only 11:31.  Discouraged, my running momentum essentially collapsed, and I became a simple recreational runner, putting in a few miles here or a fun run there… good times, but nothing like what I had been, and nothing like what I really desired to be doing.

My post-college career was even more lack-luster.  My first job after graduation required a lot of long hours on the road, and that usually derailed any training program I tried to start in short order, usually with an injury precipitated from too-much-too-quick.   After 3 years there, I went back to school, and with that move I started training again.  My first goal – to run a half-marathon and actually ENJOY it, as opposed to the runs from Hell that I suffered through in my past – I actually succeeded at. When I tried to set my sights higher, though, and go for the full marathon distance?  Injury.  And after that, life just got weird for awhile.  For the next 2 years, running became a fun memory of the past and a fanciful dream of “some sweet day.”  The desire was still there, but the passion was essentially gone.  Running had become – dare I say it? – a mere interest.

In 2006, I decided to really get back into it, and for about the next year saw some great advances in my fitness.  Early successes spurred me on to really start training again, and that next summer I ran a 5:14 mile and 2:16 800m.  I even completed a steeplechase, though the time was nothing to brag about.  I was diving into a cross country season (20:09 5k, 34:35 8k) when injury struck again, and I forced myself to take a good long rest before attempting to regain any sort of form.

Finishing the Rocky Mountain Shootout 8k, Boulder, CO, Fall of 2007

But see, this time, it was all part of the plan.  The passion was back!

It’s several years later now, and I really haven’t regained anything like the form I had back in ’07.  I’ve been taking it slow, training when I can and as life has allowed.  The slow build-up has been really good and I’m gaining all sorts of benefits that I wouldn’t have had if I had just jumped back in and started pushing the mileage again.  It IS frustrating at times, as I don’t just desire to be running; I desire to run FAST.  But fast running must be supported by lots of slow running, so that’s what I’m doing… 30-40 minutes easy and some strides, 3-4 days per week.  It doesn’t sound like much, but soon enough I’ll be clippin’ off those gut wrenching intervals and hard tempo runs, and looking for the next track meet or cross country race in which to test myself.

I have many goals that I’ve been working toward for some time now.  The ones that are most important to me are:

• 16:29 for 5k cross country (or 3 miles at Franklin Park in Yakima… kind of an old nemesis of mine)
• 9:18 for 3,000m steeplechase
• 4:29 for 1 mile
• 1:59 for 800m
• 2:59:59 for the marathon

I also have a dream to design and build a cross country running facility, host meets open to the public (not just high school and college kids), and do what I can to re-establish the sport in our culture.

Finally, I desire to experience running in as many different settings as I can.  As I journey to new locations and participate in local races, this blog will serve as a travel log, recording the entire experience.

So, that’s my running life in a nutshell.  I invite you to join me on this journey, and I pray that what I share will add value to your life in some way.  Welcome, to The Eclectic Runner!

Next time, on The Eclectic Runner: What’s with the whole “eclectic” thing?