Be light; be Light

Much has been said, researched, and written about running mantras. Over the years, miles, and races, I have used a few. "To the end." "Finish." Even the affirmation "You are strong." At my most recent marathon, I simply told myself to "Spend it."

When I started running, as has been documented in these pages, I struggled just to tie miles together. Some of that was because I didn't understand disciplined pacing. Some of it was because I was out of shape and felt like I was going to die with each step. But the more I chased after the ever-elusive "runner's high," the more I started to consider my form, or what I later discovered was called "running efficiency." One of the factors in running form, bad or good, is the foot strike. The best, or most efficient, runners land on the mid foot. I didn't even know I had a midfoot!

(Mrs. RB, on the right, worked hard on her running form because of an injury. Here you can see her proper midfoot strike versus our friend's heel strike on the left. I know it was hard for her to change that, so I'm proud of her. Both of these women are powerhouses in every way.)

As I continued my research, reading articles and watching youtube videos (mostly watching videos), there were two things that struck me: First, proper running looking a lot like prancing. Second, these people looked light on their feet, and it had nothing to do with their weight. They are hurtling themselves forward, like a child careening toward certain doom!

So I started telling myself, "Be light."

This is something I have told the me in the photo above, from the 2017 Mill Creek Distance Classic, a beast of a half marathon. Two of the men in the photo had never completed a half marathon before that day, but they had been diligently and sacrificially training for that day since January. Leading up to that race day, we had spent several hours, and miles, together, talking about running, sure, but life in general. Navigating our way around the glorious Mill Creek MetroParks, reflecting on our experiences and learned truth. Even the night before, we shared a pre-race meal (handmade pasta is the best!) and didn't feel the least bit self-conscious about our group foam-rolling session on my family room floor.

The Great One, Roberto Clemente, said, "If you have the chance to accomplish something that will make things better for people coming behind you and you don't do that, you are wasting your time on this earth." In helping these friends, these brothers, prepare for something equal parts monumental, insane, and minuscule, like the Youngstown Marathon, I hope to do just that: to be Light. More than this, though, is my desire to be Light in a deeper sense. Surely Clemente wasn't just talking about helping athletes develop. As you may know, he died in a plane crash en route to provide supplies to victims of an earthquake in Nicaragua. He saw his life as an opportunity to help others. He he'd been blessed in order to be a blessing to others. Of course I'm flying over this, omitting tremendous details, but Roberto Clemente was Light.

This is something I hope to do: to be Light. Some days it takes more effort, which makes it a mantra. "Be Light, RB. Be Light." That's why running with people becomes important to me--we are Light for one another. If you know me or have read these entries before, you know I love Rescue Mission of Mahoning Valley, all of their work, staff, volunteers, especially the clients. They are Light in my community, helping people see and no longer fear the darkness, helping them know that the Light has overcome it. Some of the clients, my friends and neighbors, are in deep for a variety of reasons. They need real recovery, a Light. And so next month, with some help from RMMV staff and volunteers, we're launching the first Rescue Mission Discipleship Academy Running Club (name pending), helping Academy clients train for and run the 5k race at the inaugural Youngstown Marathon. So I ask for your prayers, that we might be a Light to one another.

I like to run, and I prefer to run long distances. So when people tell me they want to start running, I usually ask a few questions (about shoes, goals, time commitment) that regularly ends with an invitation to join me on a run. After some years and thousands of miles, I know that running breaks down inhibitions, and group runs often can turn into hours of silliness as well as intense conversations, sometimes pseudo-psychotherapy sessions. A friend recently added "reluctant friend" and "preferred hermit" to my list of titles as we discussed the idea of my ever-expanding qualifications, and the necessity of an accordion business card. I've learned, though, that people keep showing up, and I've been charged to be Light. So however reluctantly (and, honestly, the intensity of that depends on the day), I'll keep going, I'll keep saying "yes." After all, whatever blessings I've been given are not solely for me. They're for my family, my friends, my running partners, my community, even complete strangers.

And when their bodies feel heavy, I'll tell them to "be light."

(Above: heel strike. Below: the heavy impact of that heel strike.)

Nobody Cares (About Your Medals)

Standing in line to pick up our race bibs, my friend motioned to the woman behind the table and asked, "RB, should I tell her?"

"You're going to anyway, but she's not going to care. Nobody cares."

I'd been telling him the same thing for years, from the time he fretted over wearing what appeared to be a snowsuit to his first 5k, held on the last Saturday of the year. I told him when he started to get a little more serious about running and his psychosis nagged about what he'd look like if he wore his Camelbak on race day. Even on the morning I showed up to run a half marathon in space-printed tights. So this was just the latest.

"I'm going to run this half in Vibrams. You know, the toe shoes?"

The poor woman could only feign interest, muttering, "Oh really?"

"I told you she didn't care."

Aside:

{While at first that sounds mildly dismissive, I actually meant it to help my friend break some sort of mental shackle, that anyone was paying attention to him or worrying about what he looks like when he runs. And if we zoom out a little bit, that's perhaps a mantra anyone considering adopting a fit lifestyle could use. Nobody cares. When you're at the gym, sweating your keister off, or modifying a push-up/plank/bench jump, nobody cares. In fact, most people are likely unaware you're even in the room. So just keep working, and show up the next day to do more work.}

When I first started running a little more seriously, it took everything in my power not to bombard everyone I talked to about my workouts. "I started adding speedwork." "My times are dropping." "I might consider running a half marathon." "I had to buy new pants...again." (Actually, that last one was annoying even to me because it seemed like I was buying new pants every few weeks as my waistline continued to shrink.) People are kind, sometimes, so, like the woman at the race expo, they would feign interest for a little while and mutter, "Oh really, RB," hoping I'd take the hint. They didn't really care.

My aforementioned friend, the toe shoes guy, recently asked me, "Why do you run?" In no particular order, here were (and are) my answers--though not an exhaustive list:

• to see Creation
• to be Creation
• meditation
• health
• prayer
• community
• joy
• peace
• gratitude
• a clear head
• time to think
• to set an example
• to inspire
• to be inspired
• praise
• compulsion

He noted that only one of those, and not the first on the list, was health. And that's truly why I keep at it. Sure there are reasons I continue to plunk down hard-earned dollars to run races (see: community; add: travel), but running makes me better at what I already am. Thanks, in part, to running, I'm a better husband, father, friend, son, brother, uncle, neighbor, mentor. Thanks, in part, to running, I pay more attention to my neighborhood, community, park, fellow man.

And with that, I'll do my best not to allow running to define me. Yes, I am a runner, but that can be (and has been, thanks to injury) taken away from me. If it defines me, when it's gone, there's nothing left. Essentially, if we chase something that's empty (say, buying a Volvo), when we achieve it, our lives cease to have meaning. (I know I'm getting a little deeper here, but that's also what happens when I run.) My friend, C.S. Lewis, has this to say:

Most people, if they really learn how to look into their own hearts, would know that they do want, and want acutely, something that cannot be had in this world. There are all sorts of things in this world that offer to give it to you, but they never keep their promise. The longings which arise in us when we first fall in love, or first think of some foreign country, or first take up some subject that excites us, are longings which no marriage, no travel, no learning can really satisfy. I am not speaking of what would ordinarily be called unsuccessful marriages or trips and so on; I am speaking of the best possible ones. There is always something we grasped at, in that first moment of longing, that just fades away in reality. The spouse may be a good spouse, the scenery has been excellent, it has turned out to be a good job, but "It" has evaded us.

So let's go for a run and hash this out a bit more, huh?

Some of these medals mean more to me than others, but I remember something about every race so they are all meaningful. Truth is, though, they hang in my closet...because nobody really cares.

I'm Going Streaking!

I'd heard about it for years. I even read some articles about the exhilaration. In fact, I have a few friends who have done it. They say it is exciting, challenging, even psychologically beneficial when you factor the boost it can give your self-esteem, the mental currency you can call on when times are rough. "If I did that, I can surely do this." They also say it has disadvantages, that it's dangerous, that you can get hurt. Yet on December 31, 2016, after the Youngstown Jingle Bell Run (a race, by the way, that I will run every year until my body breaks down because it was the first race I ever ran...on purpose), that I decided to do it: I was going streaking.

But there were some things I needed to consider, particularly as a Youngstown Marathon Ambassador:

• Would I get arrested?
• Would my body respond properly?
• Could certain body parts get hurt?
• Isn't it cold in Ohio in January?
• What would the Lovely Mrs. RunningWithRB have to say about it?

Yet here I am, twenty-four days later, and I'm still a free man. Nothing hurts more than usual for a 40-yeard old man in my condition. The weather this month has been unseasonably warm (except for one day...more on that later). And while the Lovely Mrs. RB isn't thrilled about the idea, she's accepted my decision with the understanding that I won't get too carried away with it.

Obviously, friends, I'm referring to a daily running streak. (After all, this isn't called "NudityWithRB." That's a different site. Wait. Don't google that. Seriously.) As noted in a previous post, we're all somebody's crazy running friend, but we also recognize that there are people out there a little more...um...committed (committable?) than ourselves. And that's how I tend to see folks logging miles day after day, with no rest (which most can agree is essential). Yet I was so terribly curious after crossing the finish line at the Canfield Fairgrounds again. Maybe I should just see what I can do in January.

And so for self-imposed rules.

1. At least one mile every day.
2. Preferably outside, but allow yourself flexibility.
3. You want to end this of your own accord, not get forced into it (by injury, sickness, irritated family) so listen to your body (and your wife and kids).

The first real test came during the first week of January when, because of single-digit temperatures, I determined I would likely run just three miles (after a series of 4s, 5s, and a 6+). That plan changed the minute I stepped out of my car (in the glorious Mill Creek Park, by the way) and was blasted with frigid air. My body yelled, "Six degrees, RB?! What is wrong with you?" I relented and ran my fastest mile of the year.

The crazy thing about this, of course, is that usually between marathon training cycles I just run when I can, for however long my schedule will allow. And I'm essentially doing the same thing, but I'm making more time in that schedule. As long as my body holds up, I fully intend to keep this up until the end of the month, with a planned rest day on February 1. But who knows? My training plan for Nashville and Youngstown doesn't start until the middle of the month. Maybe I'll keep streaking.

This is from the 2013 Akron Marathon Relay. I don't remember our aggregate time, but it was a blast. Let me know if you want me to be part of your next marathon relay team.

Three more things, faithful readers. First, for the record, during this streak I have logged over 128 miles. If I continue to hold that average (about 5 1/3 miles/day), January 2017 will hold my personal record for most miles in the month.

Secondly, the other day I asked a couple friends (who are eagerly anticipating their first marathon, at Youngstown) whether or not they would ever consider running a naked 5k. They both, fairly quickly, declined, but when asked, I couldn't have possibly offered my "Yup" any faster.

Finally, I ought to confess here that, on occasion, I have mooned my friends and family during a run. Fear not, though, because unless I know you well and no one else is around, you won't likely see these cheeks.