Day 100 Had the Sweetest Taste

I knew the day was fast-approaching and some preparation was necessary. Some days I enlisted my friends while others were solo efforts. I knew, though, that all the work would pay off, would be well worth the work during the buildup. If you were there, it was certainly a memorable experience. If not, you'll likely be a bit envious. And while you, dear reader, may think I'm discussing the dulcet tones I generated along with friends and family (thanks to TonyN, AJ, KN, and Mrs. RB) at a recent wedding, I'm actually referring to day 100 of my current running streak, which took place Father's Day 2020.

When I started this daily run streak, the marathon I was due to run at the end of April 2020 had been postponed (see you April 2021, Kentucky Derby Marathon!) on account of our common enemy. So for my mental health, I decided to get up and run every day. (You can read about that, including my self-imposed parameters, here, to see that I had not specific number goal in mind.) My longest streak before starting the 2020 edition had been forty-three days, set between Memorial Day and Independence Day 2019, but I hoped not to attain that this time around. So as I neared day seventy around the end of May, the century mark started to come into focus. What? 100 straight days of running at least thirty minutes? I had to do something to commemorate the milestone.

Before we get there, let's back up just a little. My friend Bruce hosts a podcast, Youngstown's first running-centric podcast, in fact. And I've had the honor of acting as both guest and co-host a few different times. During Ohio's stay-at-home era, Bruce took to inviting more widely known members of the running community to appear as guests. (Deena Kastor, Ken Michal, and Dave MacGillivray--on the day 2020 Boston Marathon was officially cancelled--to name but a few.) Early in May, Bruce asked if I would (virtually) co-host an upcoming episode, and I immediately agreed, seeing how everyone's calendar had effectively been cleared. And when he told me we'd be interviewing Bart Yasso, I was elated. I mean, aside from popularizing what has become known as the Yasso 800s, this guy had recently retired from the greatest job in the world. (If you're reading this, anyone from Runner's World, I'm available to fill that vacancy.) Now, when I get the opportunity to interview people, I hope to ask something that very few, if any, have asked in previous conversations, and I knew just what I wanted to discuss with Bart. In addition to inviting him to run the Youngstown Marathon and go for pizza afterward (he accepted!), I remembered that Bart had written about running a 5k at a nudist colony. (I'll let you read about it and listen to the episode where he advises me to "Don't tell people what you're going to do; tell them what you did.")

And so, with day 100 approaching, coinciding with Father's Day, I began to make my plans: I was going to recruit a couple friends, drop my shorts, and streak for one mile.

My biggest concern in preparing for this adventure was encountering a woman along the way. It's not that I was worried about another person seeing me naked, I simply would hate to generate fear in any person, let alone a woman, in the gift that is the Green Cathedral.

We arrived at our arranged meeting place separately that morning, and the first words I said after getting out of the car were, "It's a lot brighter at 6:30 than I thought it would be." My friend REI got out wearing only shorts and his running shoes which caused the third and final member of our party, ST, to say, "Wait, is [REI] streaking, too? Am I streaking, too?!" I responded, "If you're here, you're streaking. Get ready." As we heading down the (fairly) secluded road, I noted, "These houses are much closer to the road than I remembered."

About a quarter-mile into the run (which we started and finished fully-clad), I stopped, and the three of us stripped bare, but we left our shoes on because we're not weirdos. It may or may not have been the fastest mile I've ever run (probably not, because I was prepared to sprint in the opposite direction if we happened upon another soul), but we finished running it, shorts in hand, sans clothing. During the naked mile, REI even screamed, "FREEDOM!" unnecessarily drawing unwanted attention to our antics. (Thankfully, either no one heard or no one responded.)

Since telling that story a few times, even to people I didn't mean to hear it (sorry to my kids...sort of), some folks have asked if I felt terror. Others have asked if I felt exhilarated. The truth is neither, maybe somewhere in between. I mean, we didn't commune with nature or get arrested, and neither of those things was the goal. It was an odd sense of celebration of an accomplishment, something silly to do with my friends. And my sweet wife continues to say she's glad I did it. After all the stress over the last few months, being penned up in the house, wondering and more wondering, we refused to take ourselves too seriously and found an act of much-needed catharsis.

(Answers to a few questions I've received: I'm not ashamed of having run naked through my park. I'm glad we didn't get caught. I have no plans to do it again, but I wouldn't immediately reject a repeat performance. Chafing is real, but you can prepare for that. And what's weirder than three grown men streaking in the park? One man streaking in the park.)

The Recovery Run

Most runners, especially distance runners, are familiar with the recovery run. For those of you who have never tried it, it’s kind of self-explanatory: a slower run, usually after a hard workout. Some call it “conversational pace,” but recently it’s been dubbed “sexy pace.” Time to take in the scenery, have a chat, work out some work problem that’s had you stumped for a while. Maybe even craft and essay in your head.

And there are more and somewhat surprising benefits of sexy pace runs. It may sound counterintuitive, but recovery runs will actually help you run faster. First, the slower run keeps you in better aerobic (read: fat-burning) zone. And as you burn more fat, you drop more weight, you can run faster. Also, these paces enable your cardiovascular system to work more efficiently, so you’re able to—you guessed it!—run faster for longer periods of time.

Well, so what? What’s the point? I could continue explaining the research I’ve conducted (no matter how minimal) on the benefits of recovery runs. I could even offer some anecdotal evidence of the thousands of miles and fifteen (or is it sixteen?) marathons I’ve run. (Yeah, it’s sixteen.) Here’s the point: In the last week, I’ve discovered a new and different understanding of a “recovery run.”

I am not, by nature, and anxious person. Yes, I see the world through a morose lens, worrying here and there about my loved ones, but I generally scoff at the notion of “anxiety.” As a God-fearing Christian, I’m not even referencing the typical Scriptures about worry, fear, unease, or anxiety. (I will, however, encourage you to read Isaiah 41:8-10; Psalm 56:3; 1 John 4:18; and John 14:27. Or just google “God’s promises in the Bible.”) 

Like everyone else in the world, I’m talking about COVID-19, which is proving to cripple society at large, sending people into seclusion (an introvert’s dream), kids away from schools (proving why we don’t home-school our kids), shuttering amateur and professional sports (I miss you, Pittsburgh Pirates). It has the potential to shutter small businesses across America, handcuff the health care system, and delay—or at least shorten—the Presidential campaign. Ok, that last one seems pretty good.

Yet in the midst of all this doom and gloom (which is a decent, if not formulaic, Rolling Stones song), I’ve continued to train for my upcoming marathon as if it won’t get cancelled. (Update: It has! But I’ll keep running.) Since I started running more than ten years ago, I’ve always noted the psychological benefits of logging miles, thinking through issues, burning off stress. But with all the unknowns surrounding COVID-19, there are few things that have made me feel human the way running has. Elevating my heart rate, breathing the air outside, seeing a hawk swoop down in front of me, sweating, praying, talking with my running crew (no fist bumps & six feet apart!)—this practice continues to reap benefits. 

I wish I could say I’ve discovered some answers; that rarely happens. Running isn’t the solution to COVID-19. In fact, it’s not even the solution to the anxiety surrounding it. If that were the case, I’d like log thousands of miles between now and the “all clear” call. (Truthfully, I will likely log a lot of miles during that time. I’ll keep you posted.) What I do know is that being active is helpful; it’s a conduit and a healthy coping mechanism. I’m not always running the sexy pace; in fact, just yesterday it was more like a tempo run (non-runners, look it up). Running in the midst of a crisis: It’s my new recovery run.

(This is not a good example of social distancing, but it's Santa Claus! I KNOW him!)