Anyone up for a drink?

I know competitive distance running is not “normal.” I get it, no further explanation needed. Yet, when I went last week to an anesthesiologist, recommended by the physical therapist, to see if he could help fix the nerve problem in my neck, I was not expecting his visceral reaction to my uncommon obsession.

“You know, people drink a twelve pack a day and destroy their livers through cirrhosis. You’re basically destroying your bones and joints with this running just like if you were drinking a twelve pack a day. You might as well be drinking a twelve pack!”

His bluntness combined with my shock and frustration to form some H20 in the corner of my eyes. “Are you okay?” the doctor said. “Yeah, bad allergies today,” I lied. Unfortunately, that allowed him to continue his lecture. “You know this is not normal, you know that right? If you keep running twelve miles a day, you’ll have double knee replacements and a hip replacement by the time you’re 46.”

Clearly he wasn’t listening as I had actually said that I run five to twelve miles a day, not twelve miles every day. Even that was a slight fib, as my long runs are normally longer than twelve, but thank goodness I didn’t go there. I can’t imagine what he would’ve said if he had known I had run a marathon.

He kept repeating, “This is not normal, you have to acknowledge that.” For good measure he threw in a few, “I can give you some shots, but those are just band-aids. You’re choosing to tear apart your body, kind of like people who drink twelve packs every day.”

Lost in his ramblings was my protest that I had run just fine before a weight lifting injury, but clearly it was my addiction to running that had caused the disc between my fifth and sixth cervical vertebrae to bulge, clearly…

Eventually he suggested I try physical therapy. Ask my bank account, I’ve tried physical therapy! He finally relented to actually examining my neck – novel idea, for a doctor to examine a patient instead of just looking at the chart – and acknowledged the trigger points. He gave me a trigger point injection, but kept emphasizing it was only a “band-aid” and would keep coming back unless I ran three miles or less per day, preferably on a treadmill.

I finally got out of his office and went about the rest of my day, but couldn’t stop contemplating the fact that a medical professional had actually equated running with alcoholism! Ok, if running is so abnormal, why do I do it?

Well, there are a million reasons, from the obvious (cardiovascular health, bone density, weight control, etc.) to the corny (skills like discipline, focus, teamwork, etc. and lifelong friendships). But there has to be something deeper that gets me out of bed to run when it is 30 degrees, dark and the covers are so darn warm.

Perhaps it’s just that running has become habitual and I don’t want to change. Perhaps I’ve formed so much of my identity through being a runner that I don’t want anyone to see me as anything else, don’t want to let anyone down. Perhaps it’s my faith in medical technology that those knee replacements will be so advanced by the time I’m 46 that I won’t even feel a thing. Alas, I know that none of these reasons gets me to do mile repeats or a tempo run.

I run… because it’s hard. Call me a masochist, but there is something about pushing your body and mind farther than you thought you could that can’t be replicated with any drug or sedentary activity. That’s the idea behind those team t-shirts you see at high school meets that say “Our sport is your sport’s punishment.” The beauty of the sport is in its difficulty, the fact that no matter how hard we try we will never be able to convince every single person to become a runner. It’s just too hard. Running is also beautiful in its simplicity. It’s the sport that we were born to do; yet, also the sport that’s hardest to consistently do, the sport that is so easy to not do.

In the heat of an intense run you confront your own demons, the voices telling you to stop. But, you don’t stop, because stopping would be too easy, and running, running is hard.

I’ve always liked quotes. I like the idea of plucking the most profound wisdoms that people have uttered out of their universe and into my own mental library, hopefully learning something vicariously. This movie quote, with a one word substitution, explains the reason why I run, instead of drinking a twelve pack every day. It’s from A League of Their Own, which was filmed right here in Indiana (Bosse Field in Evansville). Replace the word “baseball” with “running” and my point is made. To set the scene, Dottie has just told her manager, Jimmy, that’s she’s quitting to move home with her husband Bob, who has recently returned from the war.

Dottie: Yeah. It is only a game, Jimmy. It's only a game, and, and, I don't need this. I have Bob; I don't need this. At all.
Jimmy: I, I gave away five years at the end my career to drink. Five years. And now there isn't anything I wouldn't give to get back any one day of it.
Dottie: Well, we're different.
Jimmy: Shit, Dottie, if you want to go back to Oregon and make a hundred babies, great, I'm in no position to tell anyone how to live. But sneaking out like this, quitting, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Baseball is what gets inside you. It's what lights you up, you can't deny that.
Dottie: It just got too hard.
Jimmy: It's supposed to be hard. If it wasn't hard, everyone would do it. The hard... is what makes it great.