Musings on the Uwharrie 20

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.*

Yesterday, I finished third in the Uwharrie Mountain Run 20 miler. My time was 2 hours and 51 minutes. I ran without a watch which turned out to be a great stress reliever. When we went through the eight mile aid station there was lots of jostling for position, because prior to that time we had been in a row of runners—just like a Wednesday morning run in the forest. I thought to myself, it is great that I don't know my split because I have enough to worry about right now. This line of runners included just about everyone in the top ten excluding the guy who took off before the top of the first hill. We never saw him again.

I was very nervous going into this race, thinking I would blow up as I had at Shut-in on November 1, 2008 and that generally I am just incapable of racing more than about two hours. The week before had been a little bit of an over-taper. I did not run Tuesday, Wednesday, or Thursday. It was just one of those weeks with work and family where running was not happening. I went out Friday at about noon to Little River and ran the back half of the course with Sallie the wonder dog. I wondered, “Have I ever run before? Did I just wake up from a six-month hibernation? I think, no, I’m sure, the lower half of my body is in constant throbbing pain.” But a little hopefulness crept in, as I remembered sometimes this sort of terrible run filled with fear and self-loathing in the 24 hours before a race is the body’s way of conserving both physical and mental energy.

But I really should attend to the race. Oh what fun to go up and down the first hill without being in total kamikaze oxygen debt mode! The eight mile race, my only racing experience in these woods, is really a blur of dodging trees and trying not to land face first in a mud-bog pit. Instead, I was enjoying the morning, even taking in some views as we danced across the ridge. I was glad I had started miserably cold with no gloves and no warm hat for by the time we crested the first climb, the sun was doing its thing and it must have been nearly 50 degrees. By late morning it was pushing high 60s. I casually counted back places as we billy-goated our way up the first hill. I was in eighth. That will do for now as I have many miles to go. Over the next few miles, as we approached the first aid station, which though it seems a marathon away is probably not even five miles from the start, we stacked up single file and the banter began. I was almost at the back of the pack and I kept silent. I could see up ahead a few runners I recognized. I could hear the steady breathing of a few potential contenders on my heels. Up ahead, there was tall Tim who I had spoken to after Run at the Rock. Cid from Inside-Out was right in front of me. Keith, who I knew the best as we had raced last spring together at Owl’s Roost and Anne Springs Greenway and at the latter we had a nice time to get to know one another. Just these last two runners represented two of the top three finishers from last year’s 20 mile race, so I knew they meant business or else they would not have been back in Montgomery County on the first Saturday in February.

My race plan was pretty loose. In a perfect world I might have waited to break from this crowd of 8-10 runners until mile 14 or even later, trying to conserve and avoid a blow up. But things got to moving pretty snail like around mile six and I moved into second place in line (third place in the race) and hoped we might move things along a bit. I did not have a really great plan for what I was about to do, but it was probably motivated by one runner in the crowd who mentioned that he had run the 40 last year and gotten third. I thought to myself, I don’t want to wait around and play the stamina game with this crowd. Most of these folks are much better at long distances than I am, but maybe if I make a move they will forget about trying to race hard. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was probably just being my usual impatient self.

I also wanted to see who in this group really meant to start racing. I thought Cid would follow for sure, I didn’t know who else.

So I went through the eight mile aid station rather quickly and started to pull away. I wouldn’t call it a true surge, but a little pulse. I wanted to see who would shadow this move. I knew that whoever was still in sight as I glanced back in the next couple of miles had intentions as I did of getting on the so called podium. “We” like to call it that because it makes us feel like “we” are Olympians. I know it’s stupid, but I think it helps me run faster. Really what it means is slightly cooler pottery than the other pottery, which is also amazing and should be because just to finish this race is an outstanding accomplishment. I hope the new race directors read this and keep hiring Michael Mahan to provide the earthenware.

When a few folks caught up to me about 10 miles into the race, I didn’t freak out. I hoped they had used up a little too much energy in catching me, but by no means did I feel like I had to drop everyone then. In fact, if I got the right company maybe we could run under the delusional hope that we could reel in the leader. It seemed that somewhat seamlessly, there were only two of us after a bit. I don’t the distance of a “bit.” It is well, a “bit.”

Enter Wayne. He was on my heels and I suspected he was a little stronger than I was, but again no stress; we were still some 7-9 miles from finishing this little jaunt. Lots could happen. I think it was with Wayne that I secured third place. We shared some info, mutual friend in Haggis, and that Wayne was glad to be with a Trailhead and someone who knew the course. We zipped along and I think it was here, down along the river with its many crossings, that we separated considerably from 4th place on back.

We must have separated considerably, because at the big hill at mile 16 a pregnant full grown Kodiak hopped on for a ride. I asked if she would dismount and she would not oblige. Wayne went off on wings into the distance over the double horizon. If you ran the race, you know this hill and its double horizon. I thought to myself, oh something, I’ll be lucky to finish in the top ten. Oh great, here comes Shut-in where the next 30 finishers pass me with their pity—oh its love and concern, but its sounds like downright pitiful pity to the one who is bonking as you can hear in their voices, “I’m glad I’m not that guy.”

But I persevered and managed to finish third. I knew if I could just make it over the big hill that I could get my legs moving again on the down-hills and the flats. I know, you don’t remember any flats either. The term “flat” or “smooth terrain” has no place on this course. Instead, one assumes the role of Heidi or an extra in a Ricola commercial as he or she stumbles over boulders and roots before a descent which by now had even become depressing because the mind knows two things. We are about to cross that stupid stream again. And then, the real fun, where we get to go back up hill again. Yeah! More, More, Please!

It was a punishing quick-step to the finish. My left hip flexor pain had been present from near the start and it was spreading into my left hamstring and the bottom of my left quad. But it was just pain, no serious cramps. I kept moving--never really in the motion of walking because I knew I might not start to run again. As I slowly passed 40 mile racers they kept up words of encouragement. I wish I could have done the same, but I could not make any words. I dreamt of seeing the clearing that marks the power lines and 500 meters to go. From there I could make it, over the wooden bridge and then the wonderful sound of the cars buzzing on Highway 24. I trudged up the final incline, looking back over my shoulder and to my amazement there was no one in sight. I crossed the finish line and I felt as triumphant as if I had been the winner. Uwharrie Kim held me upright with a huge hug. Isn’t she just great?

From then on, it was all bliss. Watching my friends finish, basking in the sunlight and warmth of our best winter day yet, and nibbling and drinking as much as my stomach would allow.

Best part of the race: tiptoeing over that one log around mile 13 that most people went underneath. It was about five feet off the ground. I felt quite nimble, I must say. More importantly, it was just flat out fun. Probably not more than a thousand people on earth have a concept of what it means to break three hours at Uwharrie, yet probably more than a million, maybe five million, I don’t know, have a concept of what it means to do the same at New York, or Chicago, or Rotterdam. But none of those marathons allow the opportunity of seeing the banks of a river and a tree that has fallen across them as a balance beam.

Peace out,
Monk

*From Robert Frost’s Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Jazz Tunes

One last workout before Uwharrie

Weezyl and I hit the Ocho hard this afternoon. If you don't know what the Ocho is then we will show you sometime. It is a great course mapped out by a few of the Trailheads and it is approximately eight miles (hence the name Ocho and also a Dodgeball tribute as in ESPN Ocho). I've run the course a few times lately, and today was my last hard effort before the Uwharrie 20 in 12 days. Weez said it was his last workout too. I ran the course by myself very slowly once, and then met Weez at the start/finish at Unity Church.

We ran quickly in the cold rain. We took turns leading, and traded out the lead at opportune moments like the few times we hit fire roads. We are usually pretty chatty, but we kept our words to a minimum. We needed the extra oxygen flow for the selfishness of our lungs. We weren't in total oxygen debt, but we were never very far.

Here is a link to the technical aspects of the run as churned out and posted thanks to Weezyl's Garmin. Very cool. 2800 feet of elevation gain! That's pretty impressive for what I think of as a pretty flat track in Chapel Hill with an ounce of Carrboro.

http://trail.motionbased.com/trail/activity/7525346#

I'm ready for the 20.
Weez is ready for the 40.
Uwharrie is the most fun we have all year.
Those ancient rocks nearly brings you to tears, no matter your preparation,
but it is so much fun you've just got to put it on the schedule for the first Saturday of every February from now until dust.

Paraphernalia of Suffering pt.3 Cont. [symposium series]

MLK's Seven Steps of Non-Violence

This morning I attended the 2009 Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Triangle Interfaith Prayer Breakfast. We heard words and prayers from the Governor, a Muslim Minister, a Rabbi. We heard an introduction for the speaker by Thad Woodard, the President of the North Carolina Bankers Association. Mr. Woodard sponsored Durham Nativity School boys last year when Gen. Colin Powell spoke at the airport. Mr. Woodard also helps our rising 6th graders attend Camp Challenge in the summer before they begin studying at Durham Nativity School. Mr. Woodard told a story of segregation and health-care injustice when a black man, run over by a lawn mower and almost bleeding out from a leg injury was denied treatment at Rex Hospital in the early 1950s.

As the keynote speaker prepared to take the mic, my heart and mind were turned in the direction of economic justice. By Thursday, the 44th President will be long past the hurrah's of tomorrow's celebrations and will be knee deep in economic crisis, meeting with advisors to discuss plans and strategies. Will his new political role mean that the nations strategies cater only to the rich and the middle class, those who vote, and hold real political clout? I pray as each of you do that this President will be different than politics as usual--and I mean that both as a judgment on Democrats and Republicans of the past. Or will phrases like "Yes We Can," become living breathing embodied actions and the poor, the real poor, those who have no home and no job and no food, they will somehow have a voice. Who will speak for them? Will any of our strategies for returning to economic dominance include economic justice for those who go without food as my lunch digests? The appreciation on my home may be in the tank, but I am not going hungry.

Dr. Gregory Moss took the floor and I was ready to hear a sermon. His remarks were unsatisfying if one was really listening. They were unsatisfying not because they were poorly prepared or poorly delivered, in fact, I knew from my friend Dr. Steve Shoemaker who presided at my ordination last year that Dr. Moss was among the great ones. Instead, the pastor's remarks were unsatisfying because of the squirminess they invoked if the 1000 plus people gathered were really listening. He claimed that Violence and Poverty are in a direct relationship to one another. Reverend Moss claimed that to deny economic justice is to inflict violence. Now that is unsatisfying, because it means that I, a committed pacifist, am woven into the fabric of societal violence that denies economic justice to every brother and sister in my midst. I know this, ironically, because even now I am afforded the time and technology to type these words. I'm affluent and I must tell that truth and then turn and become a witness to sharing my resources with others.

How???

I'll start today, by returning to the very tenants of Non-Violence laid out by Martin King.

THE SEVEN STEPS OF NON-VIOLENT ACTION

1.Remain Calm and Gather Information:
In order to understand and articulate the issue or problem facing you, you must first research, investigate and gather vital information that will increase your understanding of the problem. Know all sides of the issue, including the other person's position.

2. Education:
It is essential to inform others about your issues. This minimizes misunderstandings, solidifies your resolve and gains you support and assistance.

3. Personal Commitment:
Eliminate hidden motives and prepare yourself to accept suffering, in necessary, in your quest to solve the problem.

4. Negotiation:
Using grace, humor, intelligence, confront the other party with a list of injustices and a plan for resolving these wrongs.
Nonviolent communication does not seek to humiliate, but to call forth the good in an opponent. Control emotional outbursts--they only compromise your strength and position.

5. Direct Action:
Used to morally force the opponent to work with you in resolving the injustices. Direct action imposes a "creative tension" into the conflict. Most people will change their behavior once they know that you are aware and determined to make things right.

6. Reconciliation:
Nonviolence does not seek to defeat the opponent, but to seek his/her understanding. It is directed against evil systems, policies and acts, not against persons.

7. Final Preparation:
Prepare yourself to live each day using techniques of nonviolence. If ill will or physical harm confronts you, protect yourself, vacate the premises, but refrain from initiating harsh or threatening language or violent reactions. Promptly report unprovoked attacks to your parents, teachers and law enforcement authorities.
Stay Calm!

If you live in the Triangle, get to know the source of this annual celebration for Dr. King, http://www.king-raleigh.org/welcome.cfm If you think this is just a weekend for people of color, come out next year, and see if you still think so.

the need for seasons, the need for change

This is a part of Joni Mitchell's, River:

But it don’t snow here
It stays pretty green
I’m going to make a lot of money
Then I’m going to quit this crazy scene
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

Reminds me of Neil Diamond's, I am, I said:

L.A.'s fine, the sun shines most the time
And the feeling is "lay back"
Palm trees grow and rents are low
But you know I keep thinkin' about
Making my way back

Both lament southern California at the holidays. It's too green, too warm. There are other relationships that are troubling for these writers, human relationships, but it resonates that the trouble is set in the context of seasonal trouble. If the weather is not right, too dark, too cold, too warm, too different from what you remember, the whole world can get out of balance.

I felt this way all of my winters in Florida, 1983 - 1995. I wanted to be back in the Carolinas. I didn't want to be at the North Pole, but 40 degrees would have been nice. It was generally too warm to be Christmastime. It put me in a bad mood during the month of December, in a funk, that I struggle to pull out of these last 30 years. I get you Joni. I get you Neil. Mitchell's River has become a holiday classic. The irony means the there really is room for whatever change has come and is coming as the year comes to an end. If you don't feel great, don't pretend that you do. Maybe we don't need to pretend to be happy at the holidays if we are not. It doesn't mean you don't welcome the new year or the birth of a savior. There are viable justifications for having a tough time at the year's end.

Choose life as a difficult as it may be

Life is difficult, isn't it? I accept this as the true state of the world rather than a pessimistic outlook. Life is Good as the t-shirts say and so does God in Gen 1, but life is also difficult. If this premise is dealt with then there are two texts that are meaningful for reflection.

From Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet, p. 53
"People have (with the help of conventions) oriented all their solutions toward the easy and toward the easiest side of the easy; but it is clear that we must hold to what is difficult; everything alive holds to it, everything in Nature grows and defends itself in its own way and is characteristically and spontaneously itself, seeks at all costs to be so and against all opposition. We know little, but that we must hold to what is difficult is a certainty that will not forsake us; it is good to be solitary, for solitude is difficult; that something is difficult must be a reason the more for us to do it."

Deuteronomy 30:19b-20
Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him; for that means life to you and length of days, so that you may live in the land that the Lord swore to give to your ancestores, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.