Smiling at the red cardinal

I recently helped a friend run 100 miles in 18 hours and 29 minutes.  I was a pacer and a crew member. Our job was to keep him moving and we did. He only stopped for about 1 minute each hour and that includes bathroom breaks.  

As a pacer, I ran with him for miles 60-80.   As a crew member, I made sure he had the calories, hydration, and anything else he needed like batteries for his flashlight. Going into the event I had a hunch that it would be a running party, a party with all the excess that goes with the word party.  We ate and drank running for the entire weekend.

Turns out the book, The Happy Runner, is the perfect muse for a 100-mile running party. We read it aloud. It delves into your "why" of running as well as offers advice on how to keep going when it's hard.   The authors suggest that you power yourself with kindness and rather than seeing competitors see community.  When my friend was struggling during mile 75 he asked himself a rhetorical question that sounded askew to my ears but in all the right ways.   He asked himself aloud, "How well can I move right now?"

"How well can I move right now?" is way different than "am I on pace?"  It is nothing like "what place am I in?"  It even makes room for the hard stuff like "my hamstring is killing me, but at least I can move."     

Yesterday on my 10-mile run at Salem Lake I put some of this Happy Runner approach into practice.  The lake was in winter mode with all the foliage gone so I was able to see the wildlife.  In my bliss, I was able to see and smile at a bright red cardinal while powering myself with kindness and being grateful for the sanctuary.  I was struggling too because the day before I was sharpened against stout competition charging up and down Pilot Mountain. 

I am learning to measure my running differently.  With age, I can relate to the joy of seeing community rather than competitors.  I know that nobody cares what my Personal Records (PR) are but they do care about how running can positively impact us all.  

It turns out running can feel like a team sport.