Running community: And why Rock ‘n’ Roll is a dirty word at our house

I started running when I was 32. I’m not sure why, but there was something in me that wanted the challenge and the fitness and the experiences and the discipline running would bring me.

Why do I keep running? I got all of those benefits from running, but I think what truly keeps me running is the community. My community has a language and a special craziness all of its own. We’re connected by the miles we log alone, the races we run together, the injuries we fight with the help of those who’ve been on that road before us. We’re connected by the willingness to lace up our shoes in 25 degrees or 85 degrees alike. We’re connected to the strangers we wave to each day as we pass each other on our morning run. We’re connected to the fastest Kenyan chasing the next world record and the slowest couch potato who has decided to try her first 5K.

I don’t want to Rock ‘n’ Roll
Runners are even connected by our favorite shoe stores and the particular races we choose to run. And so maybe that’s why Rock ‘n’ Roll is a dirty word at our house these days. No, not the music. My husband and I will never stop loving that. This Rock ‘n’ Roll has to do with racing and all that is wrong with big corporations coming in and pushing the little guys around or even out. Continue reading

Running thoughts

“Whoever has ears, let them hear.” – Revelation 13:9 (NIV)

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I ran a 10K this past weekend on a beautiful day that promised of early Fall. The race is well-organized every year, which means that, among other things, traffic control is well-done and volunteers are out at all turns where runners need directions about which way to go.

The course contains a lollipop section: an out-and-back part (you run the same road going and coming back, which makes the lollipop stick) with a loop at one end. From overhead, the course looks like a lollipop, hence the name.

The “circle” part of the lollipop for this particular race started near the 4-mile mark, where there was also a water stop. There were volunteers handing out water, and another volunteer whose sole job it was to point runners in the correct direction. Runners turned left to start the circle of the lollipop by running down a lovely hill. To leave the circle part, runners came down a gentle hill and turned left again, putting them back on the “stick” part of the course.

I was running back toward the end of the lollipop’s circle, ready to turn left onto the “stick” part of the course. And that’s when all the yelling started.

A runner approaching the water stop for the first time took a cup of water and then turned right instead of left. This put her running against the stream of runners coming back through the turn and meant she was off-course and heading into a needless uphill grind.

The volunteer was yelling to her to turn around. The runners coming toward her yelled to her to turn around. There was yelling and pointing and dodging as she continued heading the wrong way. Finally, she got the most puzzled look on her face when she looked directly into my eyes. I pointed the other direction and yelled again, “That way!”

She wasn’t dazed. She wasn’t delirious. She wasn’t near collapse. No. She was wearing earbuds.

“I know it’s fun, but you have to be able to hear!” That’s what the volunteer called out to her as she ran back by him. Who knows whether she heard or heeded his words.

Until the past few years, races’ insurance could be in jeopardy if competitors wore earbuds or headphones, and some race directors went so far as to say they would disqualify runners caught wearing them. But this rule has relaxed recently, and more and more runners wear earbuds during races.

The increased use of earbuds during races is a detriment to our sport, and I wish races would go back to encouraging runners to race without them.

Missing a race’s camaraderie
One of the reasons I love racing is the camaraderie that comes from pounding out mile after mile with other runners. I don’t like to chat while I run, but I do enjoy an occasional pleasantry with another runner, maybe a bit of encouragement after a tough hill or a “You can do it” when my energy flags. With more runners wearing earbuds, the sense of communal effort and support is beginning to dissipate, and I miss it.

Another reason I wish we could go earbud-free at races is for the spectators. I don’t need a group of cheerleaders on my daily runs, but at races, especially long ones or particularly hard ones, it’s nice to have folks cheering on the side of the road and ringing cowbells or whatever other noisemakers are in vogue. (I vote for a cowbell over a vuvuzela any day. Just my two cents’ worth.)

This past spring, my husband pointed out how much less fun it is to cheer for runner after runner who can’t hear the cheers because of earbuds. In the last few races I’ve watched, I’ve noticed this growing phenomenon, too. It discourages me as a spectator. I mean, I could have slept in and could be enjoying coffee and a good book on the porch swing. But I’m trying to support the runners out there. It’s a whole lot more fun when runners come by and acknowledge spectators’ presence with a smile, a wave or a even a call for “More cowbell!”

Many runners who like to wear earbuds and belt out tunes as they run should also know that just because they were born to run doesn’t mean they can (or should try to) sing it like the Boss. Though sometimes being near someone belting out an off-key song does spur me to run faster to get away sooner.

The safety in our hearing
Our sense of hearing is one of the best ways we runners can protect ourselves out on the roads, too, and it’s the safety issue that makes me also long for earbud-free races.

The truth is we are more vulnerable as runners than we like to admit, and being able to hear what’s coming up near us (car, bicycle, angry dog) is one of our best protections. Three years ago, a runner wearing an iPod died after a plane making an emergency landing hit him. I wonder if he could have lived if he had been running without the iPod.

Car back!
It’s common to hear “Car back!” or “Car up!” among runners and cyclists out together on the roadside. It’s a way of helping protect each other.

As I mentioned, the race this past weekend always has great traffic control, but it’s not perfect, and there are cars that end up driving alongside runners at certain points, especially some of the more residential sections of the race. Earlier in the race Saturday, I watched as a runner ahead of me did a 360-degree spin to avoid getting hit by a driver determined not to wait for runners to pass by before pulling into her driveway. What if the runner had been wearing earbuds and not heard the car or the runners near her yelling “Car back!”?

It all makes me think of the verse in Revelation (yes, I know this is wildly out of context). But I say to those of you who run, “Whoever has ears, let them hear.” Hear the cars coming. Hear the volunteers directing you. Hear the spectators cheering for you. Hear the beautiful rhythm of all those feet heading together for the same finish.

This sign sat near the start of the course Saturday. I think another good one might be: “You can run with an iPod tomorrow, when no one is cheering.” But please, leave at least one earbud out.

RunningSign2_2013

You can run slow tomorrow when no one is watching … I know, Mom, it should say “slowly.”

I add this second sign just for fun and conversation. A little encouragement goes a long way, and most runners I know appreciate fun signs along the course. I admit that this one puzzled me a bit, though:

RunningSign1_2013

My first thought when I saw this one: Makes it seem longer in a good way? Or in a bad way?

So I have a few questions for you runners out there. Does running make life seem longer to you? In a good way, I hope? Do you run with earbuds when you’re racing?

For you nonrunners out there, are there times and places where you get so caught up in your own electronic world that you miss the cheerleaders’ encouragement or the cars whizzing by? Are you willing to unplug to hear what you might be missing?

When the world is silent about your dreams

“And do not be conformed to the world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.” Romans 12:2

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My husband and I have been TV junkies this week, thanks to the World Track & Field Championships going on in Moscow. There’s typically about four hours of live coverage for us to record overnight and then two more hours mid-day. So when we settle in for the evening, we take our dinner and sit on the couch and try to go through the six or so hours of coverage as quickly as possible. Afterward, I catch up on Facebook and Twitter, sites I dodge throughout the day so I don’t see outcomes of any of the race.

It’s an exciting week to be a track and field fan, but it’s frustrating, too. NBC never shows enough of the distance races, instead breaking up a lap or two here and there with field events and even a news story about anticipated trouble in the upcoming winter Olympics, which will be held in the Soviet Union. There’s a time and place for those stories, but right in the middle of a 10,000 meter race? Not the time.

I’ve also been struck by NBC’s poor announcing. I mean, I expect poor announcing in general from the network, because NBC seems unwilling to hire commentators who get excited about what they’re watching, but specifically, I’m shocked when they don’t even mention an American athlete’s name during a race. This is an American broadcasting company, and its commentators can’t bother to name all three Americans running in a particular race?

Continue reading

Running cheats

I ended last week’s post with a question to all you runners out there: have you ever cheated during a race?

Our society frowns on cheating while also encouraging it at the same time. Think I’m wrong? All you have to do is go to the grocery store check-out line to see that we have a warped relationship with cheating. Hollywood star cheats on starlet: details inside! Or how about this one: Cheat on your diet and still lose the weight!

Cheating is rampant in any number of areas in our lives: school, work, taxes, marriages, the world of academics, politics and sports.

Those of you who follow this blog know by now that I’m an avid track and field fan. I hate cheating in the sport, and most likely, if an athlete has been banned for a drug violation at some point in the past, I (and many others) will not readily forget. It’s hard to cheer for someone who cheated once upon a time, and it’s hard to cheer for those whose physique suggests there’s some illegal enhancing going on, even though they haven’t been caught … yet.

If you have to cheat to win, you don’t deserve to win. And not only that, you take away the glory from a clean athlete who finished behind you.

Clean athletes like Adam Nelson, for instance, who just recently received the gold medal for shot put from the 2004 Athens Olympics because the Ukrainian who originally bested him (in a tie-breaker) got busted for performance-enhancing drugs. It took until 2012 to catch the cheater and strip him of his medal. And it was sweet and bitter to watch Nelson at a recent meet where he was recognized as the gold-medal winner from nine years ago.

The structure of testing within elite track and field organizations exists to catch cheaters. But what about the regular folks out there running and racing? Who catches the cheaters among the rest of us?

Cutting the course
Last summer, The New Yorker published a fascinating story about a suspected cheater in the world of marathon running: a dentist from Michigan named Kip Litton. He’s suspected of cutting courses short (lots of them), thereby cutting his times, too. Why on earth would a dentist from Michigan feel the need to cheat in marathons? What drives a normal person to think this is okay?

Sometimes it’s easy to cut a course short by accident. There’s no marking or volunteer at a critical turn. You’re following the runners in front of you, trusting they know which way to go. A course turn is marked incorrectly. I’ve done it by accident before. I’ve also run a course long by accident for the same reason.

But to cut a course on purpose? And still cross the finish line pretending I had run the whole race? I can’t imagine feeling good about myself after that, and I can’t imagine the need to win being so much greater than the need to be honest that I’d cheat to get a better place. But I guess for some, a hollow victory is better than a clear conscience.

An honest mistake, or a true cheat
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately because of a small race I ran in recently. My husband ran the 10K race, while I ran the 5K. When he finished, he looked behind to see who was finishing after him, and he said, “Several of the guys in my race cut the course.” They did it accidentally, one of those combinations of a brand new race course and lack of volunteers to tell runners which way to turn. Fortunately, he and those who finished in front of him had run the full course. So he could feel good about his place in the results. (I’m sure he would have felt even better if he had won the race. Smiles.)

My 5K didn’t have any confusing intersections, and other than turning around too early, it would have been hard to cut the course. So that wasn’t the problem. But a man walked away with a trophy for the third place overall female finisher. He wasn’t just picking up the trophy for a wife or girlfriend or sister who couldn’t stay for the awards. He simply accepted a trophy that shouldn’t have been his.

If you’ve ever run a road race and stayed around long enough afterward for the awards, you know that the awards ceremonies afterward can border on chaotic. The folks in charge of timing and results scramble as fast as they can to sort out the finish order and the age group awards, and the race director hands out the awards as quickly as possible.

At any point in the process, human and computer error can insert themselves and indicate that the wrong person should get an award.

I don’t know where the mistake first happened in the race in question. Maybe a volunteer keyed in the gender from the man’s entry form wrong, or maybe he actually registered as a woman. But his accepting the trophy compounded the mistake and put a damper on an otherwise pleasant race.

The 24-year-old woman who should have won the trophy may not have even realized there was a mistake. The only reason I knew of the problem was because the 5K and 10K courses overlapped enough that my husband passed me headed in the opposite direction as I was running back toward the finish. He had counted the women ahead of me, and I kept track of how many women I passed after that and how many passed me. So I knew how many women should have been ahead of me in the results. But when the results were printed, there was an extra “woman” ahead of me. I paid extra attention during the awards.

I’d like to think the guy took the award not realizing it was for the third female finisher. He might not have been paying attention to the race director until he heard his name. But then, I’d like to think Olympic-level athletes wouldn’t resort to drugs to gain an unfair advantage, too.

To all the cheaters out there, I say “Shame on you.” For those tempted to cut a course and still claim an award, or those pretending to be the opposite gender or a different age to get an award more easily, and for those elite athletes facing the decision to take drugs or not, this Bible verse might be a good reminder not to: “You were running well; who hindered you from obeying the truth?” (Galatians 5:7).

Here’s to obeying the truth and feeling good about your efforts, even if they don’t bring home any trophies.

Patriotic running

Happy 4th of July! I know some of my non-US readers won’t be celebrating tomorrow, but for most of my readers, tomorrow is all about red, white and blue; hot dogs, watermelon and potato salad; time with family or friends; and fireworks.

For many of you who run, tomorrow is also about racing hard to earn the aforementioned picnic fare without a guilty conscience. I did my “firecracker” race this past weekend, but I know that – at least here in the South – there are any number of July 4 races before the running calendar goes quiet through the worst heat and humidity of summer.

You know who else is racing hard right now? Our US elite runners. The 2013 US Track and Field Championship happened two weeks ago, and we’re in the process of figuring out which of those championship winners and runners-up will represent the United States in Moscow at the World Championships August 10-18.

It’s not a simple road, but for those who earn a spot on the team, it’s an opportunity of a lifetime to do some patriotic running. My husband and I watched a new show called USATF 36, in which gold medalist Sanya Richards-Ross talks about putting on the USATF tee shirt for tough workouts: “It’s my inspiration … this is why I do it.” She works hard to represent our country well, and wearing the USA Track & Field jersey reminds her that the end result of representing our country is worth the pain and effort.

There are two other athletes, though, that I want to focus on in particular this week. The first is Leo Manzano.

Leo Manzano carries the flag after making the 1500m U.S. team to the 2012 Olympics

Leo Manzano carries a US flag after making the 1500m US team to the 2012 Olympics

I became a Leo Manzano fan when I saw him run at the 2008 US Olympic Track & Field trials in Eugene, Ore. He runs with heart and with guts. He’s often the shortest guy on the track, but he doesn’t let that hold him back. I’ve forgotten where I read this, but one writer described him as running with “schoolyard abandon.” I can’t tell you often I think of this phrase as I’m out slogging through a run. That expression always makes me smile and makes me try a little harder in my own run. Continue reading