One of These Days

"Human life is truly a short affair. It is better to live doing the things that you like. It is foolish to live within this dream of a world seeing unpleasantness and doing only things that you do not like."
From Hagakure

The summer of 1987 I was 21 years old.

Most of the days there was no rain, so that by the month of August the fields I ran and hiked in had turned a stunning color of rusted ocher.

During the week I worked in a warehouse, a dark roof overhead, and greasy, gray floors underfoot.

I dreamed of the weekends, and by Friday I could barely contain my excitement - I was going to get up before dawn and drive my 1977 Chevy van to Blackwell, a forest Preserve about 40 miles west of Chicago.

Once arriving at Blackwell, I took off running. Stopping at the pumping well to splash water on my brown body, I stripped off my shirt and disappeared into the humid cover of the green shadowed trees.

2 hours later I would stop, exhausted. I then took a long hike around the horse paths and the lake.

Feeling hungry, I got into my van and drove about 10 miles to the nearest grocery, buying all kinds of food.

Returning to the woods with my bag of food, I sat atop a hill which overlooked the lake, spread out my lunch on the picnic table, and ate happily while gazing at the reflections and colors on the water.

Finishing my lunch I would walk to the small swimming pond and do 1 hour of strength exercises. The pond was closed that summer to waders, so I had the place to myself. I would usually see some wildlife there, such as fox and deer, and I once saw a hawk sail down from the sky and grab a small rodent off the side of the large hill adjacent the pond.

Finishing the exercises, I would ready myself for the big event of the day, which was running up the largest hill in the woods until the sun went down.

The hill was about 400m in length, and quite steep. Once on top the view was awesome, the dried red fields aglow in the late afternoon sun, the lake a mellow Prussian blue, with the moon rising about the time I was finishing up if it was near full.

On one of these long Saturdays I saw a fit, middle aged man running up and down the large hill as I was walking to the pond.

A couple of hours later when I was returning to start running the hill myself, I saw that the man was still running up and down. I was impressed, and soon we were both running the hill in the stifling summer heat, our bare bodies soaked in sweat.

When he finally finished I happened to be near him. I was blown away by his endurance, he must have run that hill for 3 hours under the hot sun. Curious about why he was running, I asked him if he was training for something special.

"Yes, it is a 100 mile foot race out west", he told me.

A look of shock must have crossed my face, because he smiled and continued.

"Last year I ran it, but they had to stop me at mile 80 because the time limit had been reached."

I can't remember my reply, but as he walked away, I realized my Saturday adventure was quite puny in comparison to what he was attempting to do.

I had never heard of a 100 mile foot race, and did not think humans capable of running them.

Inspired, that day I ran 21 times up the hill, a new record for me. I still felt small, though, when I thought of that amazing man and his running endurance.

As the summer came to an end, I tacitly told myself that one day I would like to try running from sun up to sun down. I did not know if I had the strength and stamina for the task, but I could not forget the image of the man scaling the hill for hours in the summer heat - what a great way to spend the day!

22 years have passed, and I never did attempt to run from sun up to sun down. But this year, on April 11th, at McNaughton Park in Pekin, IL, I am going to attempt to run 50 miles, and if I run it slow enough, it will allow me to achieve that goal I set for myself in 1987.

Last week it occurred to me that I need to prepare not only my body and mind, but also my spirit.

Certain Native American tribes used the Sun Dance to prepare for war. For me, it will be running the hill at Blackwell. In early March I am planning to return to Blackwell, to run the hill for 3 hours. That day I will become like the man I admired so much - training for a long race by constantly doing battle with the hill.

It will be a special day, I am sure. The memories of my youth will surface, and how happy I will feel that upon my return in middle age, I arrive not only just as strong, but with the knowledge that I followed the path I set out upon so many years ago, not having wavered, the circular journey complete, with my heart still intact and authentic.

Side of the Hill at Blackwell

~ ~ ~

Today I was way too energetic for my planned easy run, so I extended it just a bit, doing 3 snow loops in Busey Woods instead of 1, for a total of 6.5 miles.

I am going to have to try my best to sit on my energy, letting it build and simmer for the 28 mile race in 10 days.

When I got home I planned to bathe and eat, but Rachel was just getting home from the library so we went out to El Toro. Not the healthiest lunch, but the huevos rancheros tasted good, and we got orchada served to us in a giant beer mug.

Last night I was feeling creative and finished off some more photographs.

Small Winter Day II

Film Still, Charlie's Tavern

I also found an old color photograph of Rachel when she was a child. I love the picture because it makes me both happy and sad, although I am not sure why.

My Future Wife

This song showed up on my ipod during my run :