From the very beginning of training for this year’s Boston Marathon, I’ve struggled with motivation. Having validated myself as a runner by recording a long-elusive qualifying time last April, and certifying my standing as an endurance athlete on the unrelenting slopes of Mt. Tam last summer, I entered this cycle with very little left to prove. Where do you go when you’ve already been where you wanted to be?
In that light, running Boston as a Qualifier can be seen as a personal victory lap, a reward for all the hard work I’ve put into running over the years. I’d like to view it that way. If I had to conjure a specific vision for an ideal marathon experience it would be: Have a nice day.
Unfortunately, having a nice day a month or two from now doesn’t really pull you through the dog days of training. Driven not by time nor place, my reasons for running Boston are more personal than focusing on concrete objectives like PRs. It’s been difficult to articulate this elusive why to all of you, but I’m going to try.
First, however, an announcement: We’re dropping our subscription price for Running, Probably to $5 a month and $50 for the year. We’re doing so in order to make this newsletter more accessible to a wider audience.
Running improved my quality of life in numerous ways and my sincere hope is the lessons contained within each week’s newsletters can help improve yours as well. In a perfect world, I’d write this newsletter for free. In the one we’re in now, I need to charge a nominal fee. So, $5/50 it is.
Be forewarned that Running, Probably has nothing to do with hacks, gimmicks, or fads. This newsletter is about finding purpose in the ongoing process of cultivating a running practice that works for you and your life. You don’t need to run like anyone else to enjoy Running, Probably. You just need to run like you.
Which brings me back to this question of motivation. Running the Boston Marathon closes a circle that began when a vaguely unhappy and decidedly out-of-shape young man on the verge of turning 40 (i.e. me) decided to change their life. The catalyst for said change was the 2013 finish line bombing. Having always been kind of a runner, I decided to find out what kind of runner I could be if I really applied myself. No more half starts or good intentions. Let’s find out once and for all.
In the emotional swell that followed the attack, lots of people said they wanted to run Boston. My goal was different. My intention was to honor the race – and myself – by qualifying for Boston. Fortunately, I had just enough experience (and humility) to know this wouldn’t be an easy journey. Little did I know it would take more than a decade of trial and error before finally breaking through.
Along the way, I encountered the pitfalls inherent in a runners’ life including battles with ego, hubris, and injuries. (Great teachers, all. Highly recommended.) I also learned the values of discipline and commitment, which I have relied on far more than I ever thought I would, or even believed I could, back when I started this journey.
By simply making time to run several days a week, I learned how to expand my horizons. Had you told me back in 2013 I'd be sitting here with five marathon finishes and twice as many ultras, I’d never have believed you. Every time you go for a run, your perspective changes until one day running a marathon seems like a perfectly normal activity.
Through running, I’ve learned to appreciate the good times and not dwell too much on the bad ones. I’ve learned how to cultivate toughness and tenacity, as well as gentleness and compassion for myself and for others. These are some of the toughest lessons to absorb.
Thankfully, running has some friends who helped guide my way. Because of running, I’ve explored yoga, pilates, resistance bands, mobility boards, split squats, deadlifts, hip hikes, along with dozens of other movement exercises and disciplines they never taught us in gym class. In its own way, “strength training” has proven just as rewarding as running for my overall well-being. (So long as I don’t overdo it.)
Running has also opened my eyes about the importance of nutrition, sleep habits, and resting my mind and body. All of that led me to a meditative practice that’s both complementary and completely separate from my running practice. Positive changes, all related either directly or indirectly to running. (Hence the word, ‘Probably’ in the title of the newsletter.)
It took a while, but I even finally learned how to train properly thanks to the influence of my coach, Avery Collins. The key is learning how to slow down so you can go fast when it counts. It was with Avery’s guidance that I finally recorded a qualifying time for Boston after failing to do so twice on my own.
The dream was finally realized on a cold, damp April morning in New Hampshire. My time of 3:17:44 cleared the Boston qualifying requirement for a 50-year-old male of 3:25 by more than seven minutes. Once the additional cutoff time of 6:51 was added to the standard for entry, I gained entry to the race by a mere 25 seconds. That’s less than one second per mile.
To qualify for Boston, I needed to simply not quit over and over again. And that, my friends, is the greatest lesson running teaches us. To keep going, even when it’s tough, because what other option do we have?
Running is hard. Beginning, developing, maintaining, and cultivating a running practice is even harder. That’s why we're here. To help each other continue our respective journeys, one run at a time.
I don't think I couldn't put this any better than you did and likely no one else ever could:
Every time you go for a run, your perspective changes until one day running a marathon seems like a perfectly normal activity.
When I started running 30 years ago, the thought of running a marathon was beyond my realm on comprehension. Running a quarter mile was a win, then half mile, then a full mile and on and on but it took years and to even think about running anything more than a 10k. Sometimes inspiration comes in the form of tragedy or great loss. Like your motivation, mine was similar but it was from the loss of my father. I had recently lost him to cancer and I wanted to honor him in a way that he would have both appreciated but also found absolutely bonkers.
It's amazing how that first marathon training cycle changed me. At that point I had been running for a little over a decade and a half and had done multiple half marathons but never thought I had it in me to do a full. Those months of miles and miles often filled with tears helped me prove to myself that I was going to be OK. That my father, my biggest fan and cheerleader, would never leave me, as long as I never let him go. Every mile, every blister, every stashed bottle of water, every single time I got out there and stretched it longer than the last, was an affirmation that I was not only doing the right thing but that he would be proud. It propelled me forward, now with countless half marathons, 13 full marathons and 1 ultra under my belt, to that exact moment where I found myself thinking that running a marathon is a perfectly normal activity. And I wouldn't have it any other way!