It's not always sunny days and easy downhills...

I’m trying to create a moment.

Every single time that I pull my thick socks over the painful calluses on my toes, I am looking forward to a moment. I slip on my super wide toe box running shoes, pop on a hat that will keep my hair and the sun out of my eyes, turn on my bone-conducting headphones with a crackled “welcome…. connected” that tickles my eardrum before I find the right volume level. I press the button on my watch, and I slope down to the road out of my driveway, and I’m still looking forward to a moment.

If I plan a longer run, I look for more “moments,” or perhaps meatier ones.

By “moment”, I mean a sensation during my run that makes me feel good. Sometimes, it’s because I feel fast as I sprint around sidewalk strollers or zip down streets picturing myself in some cheesy movie sequence that might or might not involve singing - or animation. Sometimes, I achieve a target tempo that I wasn’t sure I could do.

Sometimes I feel strong as I power up a steep hill, or quickly over socks on a technical trail. Sometimes, it’s just a sense of peace that I feel as I work through the life that’s waiting for me back at the house.

I think some folks think of those moments as the exclusive domain of the runner’s “high.” I can’t speak for every runner, but that’s now how those moments come to me.

An endorphin-induced euphoria doesn’t sweep away pain, suffering, hunger, thirst or any other bodily needs for me. Peace comes, but often only after a meditative slog of foot strikes. I need to repetitively hit the ground so often that I forget that I’m doing it before I can even begin to exclude thoughts that take away from the experience.

“They were looking at me funny”

“Do I have a booger on my face?”

“I look old, don’t I"?”

“My feet hurt.”

“I really should have pissed before I left.”

“I’m drinking too much water.”

“I have to shit.”

“Do I have enough time to do this?”

“It’s cold.”

“I’m not paying attention to this book. I better rewind it.”

“I really do have to shit.”

Tonight, I started late on my run, and I was really excited to try out my new toys from Ultraspire. This year, they have graciously decided to bring me on as an ambassador athlete, and right before Christmas this year, I received a package with a new waist lamp, a race belt, and a water bottle. So, I played.

I strapped everything on and left an hour before sundown - just the right time to test everything out. I planned to run for a couple of hours.

The temperature was about 46 degrees when I left, but oddly, I didn’t factor in the significant temperature drop after the sun went down. I was wearing a half-zip hoodie, a neck gaiter, running shorts, half length socks, a trucker hat, and running shoes. I was NOT wearing gloves, a beanie or other protection for my ears, nor was I wearing a windbreaker.

I’m normally a wuss when it comes to my hands and fingers. For some reason, I have reached the misguided conclusion that I need to toughen up in the cold. This has been a recent theory. Tonight was not a good time to test that out, because my run went a little awry a little too far from home.

My parents own a little cabin almost exactly two miles from my front door. Before she had her second knee surgery, my 16 year-old daughter left my Jeep in the driveway of the cabin, and nobody had brought it back to the house yet. Intending to be efficient, I zipped the Jeep key in my running shorts, and headed out for what I had intended to be a two-hour run. I planned my road route to head north towards Montreat, turn South on Flat Creek Road, East towards Ridgecrest, then loop back to the cabin after about an hour. thirty four minutes into the run, my goals changed.

My new goal was “do not shit Yourself”.

Clinch and Walk

I don’t know how it is where you live, but in Black Mountain, most residents discourage their neighbors from shitting in their front yards. I needed another solution. Fortunately, my aunt’s house happened to be somewhat close to the route that I had planned for myself. About half a mile from her house, I had to clinch and walk, while lamaze breathing and trying to appear to mostly sane to passing cars. That was difficult as my eyes were probably as wide as I could make them and I kept tossing my water bottle from hand to hand, like I was trying to impress someone with my juggling skills.

I cut through the parking lot of the Tractor Supply Store, and had to clinch my teeth as well as my sphincter because I saw a cousin taking a smoke break in the back of the building. There was no way that I was ready for  conversation at that particular moment. I was “shit for brains” in even more ways than usual.

What would that encounter even sound like?

“Hey, Kenny! What are you doing?”

“Shit.”

“Are you okay?”

“Poop.”

“What’s that?”

“Kaka. Poo Poo. Crap. Discharge. Dung. Doo Doo.”

“Awesome. So, I need to go back to work now."

I didn’t see that going well. I dug my nails into the palm of my already frozen hands, pretended not to see her, and faked being a runner until I was across the parking lot and out of sight. Then I hobbled the remaining 4 blocks to Aunt Judy’s house repeating “sonofabitch. sonofabitch. sonofabitch” in a low moan.

I paused my watch, unbuckled my waist lamp, and untied my shorts while I bounced to the bathroom. Instant relief gave me the courage to lock up the house and head back out route. I was determined to get this time on my feet. I needed to do this for me, and to meet some larger goals.

Training Goals

Lest you think that I have some epic quest on the horizon, I should explain why I feel the sense of urgency in my training plan. In less than two weeks, I am scheduled to have surgery to remove one of my adrenal glands because of a tumor that is sitting on top of it. The surgery is known as an adrenalectomy.

As far as they can tell, the tumor is benign, but biopsies for that type of dense tumor can be inconclusive at times. The only way to be certain, is to remove the tumor and test it outside of my body. Also, my stow away is growing, which is rarely a good thing, regardless of it’s “malignantness.” Unfortunately, the gland and the tumor are a package deal now. One comes with the other.

Assuming that the four hour laparoscopic surgery goes perfectly, the recovery time  is still two weeks at minimum. If they have to open me up a little more than anticipated, the recovery can be closer to six weeks or more.

Over the first 3 months of 2021, I have signed up for 3 marathons, and 2 10ks. Those are looking suspect currently, and I don’t anticipate breaking any personal records, but I hope to give them my best. With less than two weeks before my anticipated training interruption, I want to be in the best shape possible. That will shorten my recovery period, and increase my emotional response to this down time.

Battling Demons

With the relief came a new sense of ability. With the bowels evacuated, I hydrated,  fueled with a chia gel pack, clicked on my waist lamp, and found rhythm again.

I found my kryptonite too. Dammit.

Less than 10 minutes later, and almost a mile away from Aunt Judy’s House, the cauldron started to bubble again. I Ignored it. Anne Lamott was telling me stories of her dad and brother and how all three processed their father’s pending and eventual death from cancer. That helped me focus up and down hills for another 15 minutes when I turned around and headed back towards town.

By now, it was dark with few cars on the road. There was lots of space on either side, and I could easily stay clear of any vehicles. The darkness helped control my panic. My gut’s “burble burble” was intensifying. I attempted slowing down, but quickly, I realized that even crawling wouldn’t help. I was still half a mile, at minimum from the nearest accessible toilet, and I was once again lost in the land of “Oh, god. Please don’t let me shit myself.”

I looked around. On the right side of the road were bushes and trees on a hill took a steep upward climb almost immediately from the end of the pavement. On the left, where I was running on the shoulder of the road against traffic, there was a guardrail and dense trees and shrubbery. I could see headlights from the interstate traffic flickering through the foliage. The interstate was about 20 yards away, with a chain link fence at about half that distance, preventing easy access to the frontage road that I was on.

My pace dropped to shuffling and sliding my right foot every fourth step like a character you could picture in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I might have been moaning and cussing. I knew that I wasn’t going to make it. In the distance, I saw headlights coming my way, so I raised my knees, straightened my back, and lifted my chin in defiance.

I’m not sure what thought I was defying. This shit was coming.

I looked behind me and saw darkness in the distance. Now that the one car had passed, I stuck one leg over the guardrail and turned off my lamp. I struggled finding footing for the other leg as it was really overgrown around the rail. Just as soon as I had both thumbs in the waistband of my shorts, Headlights blinded me. The bastard must have come from a side street!

How in the hell do I act natural in that situation?

“Don’t mind me. I just wanted to make sure that nobody was planting an invasive species amongst all this native plant life. I find that night time is best. You don’t want to scare the interloping flora. Now go away, so I can drop my shorts and look a little closer.”

The car went by, I didn’t even bother looking for more lights, The shorts came down. I squatted.

On a dead shrub sticking up out of the ground. There was no penetration, but I’m sure the tree and I were equally embarrassed.

Life Notes

Shorts up, I geared up to a slow jog, and moved my thoughts to a space to review the next couple of weeks. My mind was once again my own.

The kids are going back to school. I have family and friends that are dealing with so much right now and I have no idea how to help, or even be supportive.

Carter will be back in college for the second quarter of his sophomore year, and I think I might let him take his car. In my mind, that represents another level of his growing up and moving on.

Maggie just had her second knee surgery in 2 months, and is battling self-confidence and isolation. I’m sure there are no other 16 year olds battling those feelings this year.

Georgia seems to have it all figured out. She is happy, kind, energetic, and very flexible with lapses in her daily routine. How is it that the second grader seems to be the most well-adjusted in our house? What is she doing right that I’m doing wrong?

Next week, I’m having surgery. The surgeon is facing this stoically with little apparent concern. I’ve been through other procedures relating to cancer. In fact, I have been on a maintenance schedule of chemotherapy for almost 5 years, 6 months after a Bone Marrow Transplant. Somehow, this time feels different. They’re taking something out of my body, discarding a piece of me that I’ve been using for almost 50 years.

This is superficial. These things are normal even in an abnormal year, and I feel guilty for trying to make it more dramatic than it needs to be.

That’s not to say that I don’t have my fair share of drama. We all do. You might not believe me, but I want to solve your problems almost as much as I want to solve mine. The way I see it, if I can solve your problems, you’re going to be happier, healthier, and more likely to pick me up when I need you. Forgive me if it seems cloying and weak. I haven’t felt like myself this year. Whining doesn’t seem to make things any better, but internalizing anxiety isn’t working for me either.

Disrupted finances, incomplete or delayed projects, feelings of overwhelm and vulnerability, and broken relationships are all manageable. Right? I need positive reinforcement here. My tender underbelly is showing. 

Yeah. Those are heavy Thoughts. The privacy of running for many miles and for long periods of gives me the time to lay them out, strip them bare, organize them, and put them back together. Note that I didn’t say that I was solving anything. These are challenges. These are thoughts. They don’t always seem to have solutions. However, they always seem to end.

These thoughts carried me a long way. I came out of my trance because I realized how cold the tip of my nose was. I couldn’t tell you why that particular part of my body was colder than any other part, but it was. Just the tip of my tiny nose. Noting that I was getting closer to the house and the Jeep, I decided to get a little heat in my limbs.

I increased my pace for 60 seconds, then pulled back to a trot for 2 minutes. I repeated that 3 times, until I made it up the last hill to where the Jeep was parked. Like I was running from something, I rushed into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine. Even though the heater wouldn’t be warm until I made it back home, just being out of the wind was enough to bring feeling back to my fingers.

The rest of me would still be seeking warmth for quite a bit longer.