Marathon-to-Marathon

In May, I'll be running my FIRST and SECOND "official" marathons... with a whole bunch of marathons in between! From Fredericton, New Brunswick, to Ottawa, Ontario, in fact. (around 1,200 km)

Running has taken me all over the world. From ultramarathons on five continents, in some of the toughest races on earth, to the 900 km long Bruce Trail right here in Ontario, Canada. It helped me get through Cancer... And it's taught me more lessons that I can count. Really, it's not even about the running anymore. It's about challenge. It's about adventure. It's about connection.

That's why on May 8th, I'll run the Fredericton Marathon, then I'll  just keep running until I get to Ottawa, so I can participate in the Ottawa Marathon on the 29th!

In my travels and adventures, I've met lots of amazing, inspirational folks, and I've come to realize that everyone has a story. Every place has a story. My goal for this run is to interview, photograph, and document some of the people I meet, and places I run through, so that I can then share them with the world via social media. We like to be inspired. We like to feel connected. This is my way of connecting, not only races and runners, but people from all walks of life and their stories.

My support crew on the run will consist of one person, riding a bicycle! His name is Charles, he's young and energetic, he's a already cycled across the country, and he's an aspiring photographer. It's a perfect fit. We'd also like to get enough video and footage to put together a short documentary afterwards. If you'd like to help support us while we're on the road for three weeks, you can make a small donation here: paypal.me/JimWillett 

Once we get to Ottawa, we'll be met by lots of family and friends, including many of my amazing crew, the RunNinjas, who will be making the trek out to run at the Ottawa Marathon. #RunNinjas #crewlove

And please follow me on my Instagram page to be part of the journey, and see my daily posts! 

Take Another Step

I believe in putting yourself out there. I believe you only grow when you leave your comfort zone and challenge your perceived limits. And In many respects this video might be my most ambitious adventure yet. 

I hope you watch. I hope you enjoy. And if it resonates with you... I hope you share.
Many thanks to the amazing people who helped put this together.

Words

I had the chance to run in Iceland earlier this year. It was amazing, but as you'd expect, it was tough. I twisted my ankles on the volcanic rock and moss covered terrain so many times it was starting to mess with my head. One minute I'd think "this sucks, why are you doing this? It's ridiculous." and the next It'd be " shut the hell up! Stop complaining, just take a look around at the scenery, soak it in. You're so lucky to be here." 

Of all the things I've learned from doing ultramarathons, the most important has to be the power of my mind. You tend to go to some dark places during these runs and you're going to face a ton of self doubt, self pity, and negativity in your thinking. The trick, however, is to focus on changing the words you tell yourself. Once you can learn to do that, you can change the entire experience... And so it goes with life.

When I ran the 900km Bruce Trail this autumn, it wasn't just about setting a new record. That just helped give the run a timeline. I'm generally not motivated by extrinsic factors. I knew there'd be a lot of self discovery along the way, and that's much more valuable to me.

Since running it, one of the most common questions I've been asked is, "what did you think about while you're out there running for so long?" And there's no way I could honestly answer that without going into some very serious subject matter. I thought about a LOT of things. Good and bad. Positive and negative. Important and nonsense. 

But I definitely thought about words. About how they've shaped me. About the ones I've given power to, the ones I've ignored, and the ones that I listen to when I'm in the dark places.

So while I was out running for ten-and-a-half days, I came up with this: 

The three little words that changed the direction of my life

“You have cancer”

I’ll never forget sitting in my doctor’s office, hearing them ring out in the still air

The inflections in his voice when he spoke, the faint hint of an accent, the pitch and volume of the words

Strangely though, I have absolutely no recollection of what he said next  

My mind had instantaneously blacked out everything else

All I could hear were those three words repeating on a perpetual loop

You have cancer. You have cancer. You have cancer…

And yet, they’re just words

We say and hear thousands of them every day

Maybe it’s not necessarily the worlds themselves

Rather, how we interpret, rationalize, internalize, and translate them that give them their power

Besides, they say actions speak louder than words

Right?

Then again

There are words that are so loud they’ll bring you to your knees, even if spoken at a whisper

The loudest words of all don’t even make a sound

They’re the words we tell ourselves

And they’re what determine the actions we take---or don’t take—in this world

And for a very long time, the words I told myself weren’t what I truly believed

I was living a lie

I told myself I could do anything. I told myself I had no fear

But deep inside I was terrified. Deep inside I didn’t feel good enough

Deep inside I was fragile and wearing a mask of false bravado

And my mask, my ego, was the size of a boat

And not some rickety row boat, like "old man and the sea"

But a ship, colossal in size, perched arrogantly afloat

Upon the ocean of life—unyielding and unsinkable

But history has taught us that “unsinkable” doesn’t exist

A breached hull can send even the biggest ship spiraling into the abyss

And it’s there, in the depths of our own misery and darkness, clawing our way through adversity, that our eyes are forced to adjust and we’re finally able to see things for what they are

Who we really are

I only know this now, because I’ve been to that place

The one where your façade’s come crashing down all around

And what I’ve found is that when you truly hit rock bottom…

It’s the place so deep you have to look up to see ground

What I’ve found is a beautiful truth

Fear will hold you down, but courage will set you free

And it is so profound to realize we don’t have to be bound by any particular words or fears

You have cancer... You’re afraid. It’s okay to be afraid. You have resolve. You can be brave. You have perseverance. You can get through this. You can get through anything

We don’t have to be ashamed of our fears

But if we ever want to pursue our passions, we need to summon the courage to take a step

We need to tell ourselves, and then convince ourselves, to just "start"

Start wherever we are. Start with fear, with uncertainty, and with trepidation. Start with a wavering voice and trembling hands.

Start wherever we are. Start however we can. Take a step... start

Still Running from Cancer

It’s been a few weeks since I finished the Atacama Crossing so this post is obviously overdue. 

But I wanted to wait, because in many respects I hadn't quite finished the journey yet.

The day before I left to fly out to Chile I met with my Oncologist. She said that there were some concerns about a recent blood test I’d done and the results showed that my CEA levels—one of their cancer markers—had risen pretty dramatically. She suggested that it could be an indication that cancer had returned. Mostly it meant I needed to go through more testing, including a PET scan, as soon as possible so we could know for sure.

I’m not going to lie… I was pretty freaked out… Maybe even VERY freaked out. I walked out of the cancer clinic riding an emotional roller coaster; my mind was all over the place. And for a few seconds I actually thought about not going to Chile.

But I did what I've so often done in my life; I put on my “stubborn” hat. I decided the freaking scan could wait until I got home, because I had 250km of desert to cross! In the grand scheme of things, waiting another few weeks for testing probably wouldn't make too much difference—and luckily the doctor agreed with me.

So off I went. Uncertain about what I was heading into, and even more uncertain about what was in store for me when I got home. One thing I did know, however, was that a week in the desert would sort out my head, and put things into perspective, one way or another.

The Atacama Desert is easily one of the most remarkable places on earth. It is beautifully rugged, almost to the point of being surreal. Trying to explain what it’s like to run across it is a bit anti-climatic, and doesn't give it the justice it deserves. But I will say the combination of endless coral-like salt flats, sand dunes, river cannons, and other general ass-kicking terrain, made for one of the most challenging adventures of my life.

I just tried to soak it all in. Day one of the race was a quick but brutal reminder of exactly that... Slow the hell down and take a look around you!  The altitude, the landscape, and what was weighing on my mind the most—do I have cancer again?—made my 8kg backpack feel like it weighed a hundred times more.

That’s exactly what I did. I slowed down, took some time to look around, to think, to breathe, and to enjoy the moment. It was the right decision. What I experienced from then on was absolutely beautiful, fulfilling, and life altering.

It also helped that the other competitors were amazing—and they inspired me every day. The race organizers, doctors and volunteers were so encouraging and helpful. These events are made that much more special by the people involved. And I did form a very special bond with the people in my tent. They helped me in a way that I don’t think I’ll even be able to fully thank them for—they were exactly what my soul needed. In particular my friend Matt—we met in the Gobi Desert back in 2011—because we spent so much time out on the course together; including almost the entire long stage (76km). It’s a day I’ll never forget, because it was so therapeutic for me. At that point in time it was probably the most beneficial place on earth I could be.

And believe it or not, by the end of the race I was actually feeling stronger and better than I had at the start. My mind was in a much better place, and I’d decided that I was ready for whatever life wanted to throw at me.

But then I got home.

I think there’s often a letdown after adventures of this nature. You invest so much time and energy into them and when it’s over, after the adrenaline high wears off, there’s almost a sense of loss. It’s a bitter sweet feeling.

Plus, I had other things to worry about. Like a PET scan. The scan itself is not a big deal; it just means not eating for a few hours and another trip to a hospital. The worst part is waiting for the results, which take another week to get.

So that’s where I was this morning... Meeting with my Oncologist again—to get the results from last week’s scan.

The first words out of her mouth were… “There’s no sign of cancer.”

THERE’S NO SIGN OF CANCER!!

I still have to do some a bit more testing over the next few weeks just to be sure. And I’ll have to visit her again sooner than planned, but it’s the best news I could have received today. I'm happy, I'm relieved, and I'm grateful.

And I finally feel like my Atacama Crossing 2013 is over.

Photos from Racing the Planet
by Shaun Boyte

Rise up

Rise up.

Life will knock you down, but rise up. You'll be faced with adversity, but see the opportunity and rise up. Others might upset/ anger/ frustrate you, but be the bigger person and rise up. You'll screw up, but learn from it and rise up...

Because that's what living is...the highs and lows; the falling and rising. But the rising part is our choice. And not always the easy one. If we keep rising though, friends, we''ll continue to get stronger, and it will get easier. Then, it's our strength that will shape our world around us.

As I do my last minute prep work, before heading to Chile for the Atacama Crossing, I've had to remind myself of those words a few times. 

I had a mild knee sprain about a month back that has altered my training and I'm not in the shape I'd like to be. BUT I've recently had blood work and a CT scan that indicate my health is good. I have to look at the bigger picture here. So despite not being as fit as I'd like, and not having done any altitude training, I'm alive and going to freaking Chile! How awesome is that!? I don't care where I finish in the standings, I'm just going to do my best to make sure I finish. 

At the end of my life, one of the things I want to be remembered for is being the kinda dude who always made the effort to rise up.

Actuality. Imagination. Dreams.

Directly between the Empire of Actuality, and the Nation of Imagination, sits the Republic of Dreams. We’re all familiar with the place: A land where our desires and aspirations perform the dance of possibility. Our expectations flutter in the breeze of faith. And the sun—always shining—smiles down from above. Throughout the Republic; hope emanates.

Every one of us has an internal compass guiding us there—and the lure to go is substantial. Some visit it regularly and enjoy all it has to offer. Yet, amazingly, others often get lost—or just give up—along the way. Maybe it’s because our time in the Empire of Actuality can make us so weary, the journey seems beyond reach. Or perhaps the dividing line between the Republic of Dreams and the Nation of Imagination gets too blurred and we can no longer differentiate. It’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins; our dreams read more like fiction.

Despite the barriers that prevent us from going, we still possess the ability to make the trip any time we’d like. It’s that simple. It’s never too late to have a new dream, or to pursue an old one. So it goes for you; and so it goes for me. I say that more for my own benefit than yours, because for a long time I wasn’t using my dream compass to its potential; which will never happen again. I’m in an era of awareness.

Now, I have this rather audacious dream. One that I haven’t mentioned to many people—maybe due to doubts about it happening. But maybe there’s a power in sharing it...

I’m hoping to compete in an Ultramarathon on all seven continents. In fact, not only do I want to run in some of the hardest races on earth, I’d like to reach my goal within the next few years.

But that’s not the most significant part of my dream. The challenge of it entices me, for sure, and traversing to some beautiful destinations will be great; BUT it’s really about making a difference. Hopefully my actions will inspire others to take action. And most of all I just want to help people. Raising money for charity, speaking to groups of kids, or adults, about my experiences—both running and cancer—will give me a sense of self worth. And isn’t that what it’s really all about?

Obviously it’s still a work in progress, and there’s no guarantee it will happen. I’m not going to let that stand it way my dream pursuit, though.

It must be borne in mind that the tragedy of life doesn’t lie in not reaching your goal. The tragedy lies in having no goal to reach.

It isn’t a calamity to die with dreams unfulfilled, but it is a calamity not to dream. It is not a disaster to be unable to capture your ideal, but it is a disaster to have no ideal to capture.

It is not a disgrace not to reach the stars, but it is a disgrace to have no stars to reach for. Not failure, but low aim is sin.

~Benjamin Elijah Mays

The Republic of Dreams: It’s a nice place to visit, but I want to live there. Everyone’s invited.

The moments

I have the good fortune of being able to run through a country side filled with horse ranches. I love watching these beautiful animals in fields along the route. Usually they ignore me, and sometimes they stare; but recently two of them decided to join me. They galloped down to the fence, and raced alongside me, before sprinting ahead. Within a few hundred metres, however, they were forced to stop, because of another fence. As I passed them standing there, I could see by the look in their eyes how much they wanted to keep going.  Horses get it.

I’ll never forget that moment.

It was stage 5 of the Gobi March, which was an 80km day, and the fact I’d already covered the distance of a marathon was of little consolation. The intense heat of the Turpan Basin (also known in China as “the oven”) was causing some serious nausea. I had just thrown up for the second time in the past 20 minutes and was beginning to worry about hydration. Worse, it was making it tough to spot the small pink flags marking the route through this unforgiving desert terrain and I had to back-track on more than one occasion.  I needed to get out of this stuff and needed to do it soon.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I stumbled out of the heavy, flour like sand and onto a single lane gravel road. This meant I was less than 8km from the 55km checkpoint, but the surface heat was well into the 50’s (Celsius) and I could feel my swollen feet beginning to cook. As I shuffled down the road, cursing the sun, I approached a large group of local men who were watching me like I was the strangest thing they had ever seen. Despite how I felt—and I’m sure looked—all I could do was smile at their reaction, which then made them smile and laugh, too. Before I knew it they had coaxed me in amongst them by insisting (through gestures) that I eat some fresh cantaloupe they had. How could I say no?  So I made the sacrifice and agreed, then proceeded to devour the fruit as fast as it was handed to me. Suffice to say, it was the best cantaloupe the world has ever known. 

I’ll never forget that moment.

Yesterday was my 38^th birthday. Tomorrow I’ll be getting blood work for my three-month oncologist appointment next week. My mom is winding down her chemotherapy treatments and soon she’ll have surgery to remove the tumour. 

In THIS moment, as I’m typing, foremost on my thoughts is the importance of living in the here and now. As much as I love reflecting on wonderful memories, and about the amazing things I have planned for the future, I can’t forget about the present. Time, my friends, is a non-renewable resource and we are all way more precious than we realize.

I hope I never forget this moment. 

The Gobi

It was our last night in the desert and I was lying atop my sleeping bag, gazing into the starry unknown. My mind was occupied with musings of the finish line the next morning, a mere 14km away. Completing the Gobi March would mean the culmination of a journey that had begun months before the actual race did.

The midnight air had been eerily calm, but the wind suddenly stirred to life. And with it, my thoughts drifted to the previous evening and how it felt to bury my chemo port in a dune—the thing had weighed just a few ounces but afterwards my pack felt lighter than air. Right on cue, the wind whipped up with more ferocity and showed me the Gobi version of “lighter than air” by sending three sections of canopy (about 30 feet) sailing over my head.

Sandstorms can seem as though they’ve come out of nowhere, especially in the darkness, and this one hit like a freight train. Somehow it reminded me of my cancer diagnosis.

Getting back to the tent, and anchoring it down, is an adventure story for another day. But once I was inside, with a t-shirt turned sand mask over my face, I couldn’t stop smiling from ear to ear. I mean... a sandstorm, really!? The week long race had thrown virtually every weather condition and terrain possible for the desert—and some that weren’t—at us. And in many respects it had been a microcosm of my entire cancer experience. There were moments that pushed me to my limit, and then pushed me beyond. Yet, as tough as it was, there was never a moment when I thought I couldn’t make it; or that I should quit. I did the only thing I could; kept moving forward one step at a time.

I certainly don’t claim to be an expert on cancer survival, or how to run through a desert. It has been as much about good luck and fortune as it has about persistence and determination for me. I’ve fumbled and stumbled through both experiences clinging to the belief that I’m strong enough to face every challenge head on.

What I did learn out there in the Gobi is that I am strong enough—that we all are. The storms in our lives may last a night, a week or a year, but there are just some things that they can’t tear away from us.

As I ran that final 14km, through some absolutely beautiful and rugged terrain, my blistered feet barely touched the ground. It was a feeling that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to put into words; and maybe I don’t want to. Crossing the finish line didn’t feel like the ending of something significant; it felt like I was crossing into the beginning of something monumental.  



“Adversity is like a strong wind.  It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are.”  ~Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha

Taking it to the next level

Here is my article from the February edition of iRun magazine.

So many of us runners get the calling; our inner voice tells us to stop thinking about it and do it already! Register for that 5k or 10k you’re considering; or the marathon or ultra you’ve been dreaming of.

For me it happened while staring at a picture of a silhouetted runner plodding through an imposing desert landscape. And when my calling came—which, I’ll swear was the voice of Yoda accompanied by the most majestic version of the Star Wars theme song ever—it simply said; “Jim, it’s time to take your running to the next level.”

Thank you… Yoda

The photo I’d been looking at was the book cover for ultra running legend Ray Zahab’s Running For My Life. The words resonated deeply with me because I was beginning a battle with cancer at the time. This was the guy who ran through the entire Sahara desert! So naturally I did what any confused runner-slash-cancer patient, seeking answers, bumbling through the seven steps of grief, and hearing Yoda in his head would do: I called up the dude who wrote the book. Ray was happy to talk to me so I decided to get in touch with top Canadian ultra runners, Stephanie Case and Ferg Hawk, and get even more advice. Since storming onto the ultra scene in 2008 by finishing as the top female in Racing the Planet Vietnam (a 250km stage race), Case has gone onto a multitude of other victories and top finishes at some very tough and prestigious races. Hawke, who is the subject of the running documentary Distance of truth, is a two-time runner up at the Badwater Ultramarathon (often deemed the hardest race on earth) and holds the second fastest time for a North American at the Marathon de Sables—at 243 km race in the Sahara desert.

What did I learn from Zahab, Case, and Hawke?

None of the three were running prodigies when they started. Until the late 90’s, Ray was a pack-a-day smoker, but since he’s quit and started running, he’s never looked back. Stephanie didn’t run her first marathon until 2005, “Back then I wasn’t really a ‘runner’. I dreaded almost every training run I went on and I couldn’t wait for the race to be over! If I hadn’t been running for charity, I don’t know if I would have made it to the finish line.” And Ferg only started running after a doctor’s visit. “I was overweight—too much beer and wings after slowpitch— the doctor told me my blood pressure was high, and I’d have to start taking medication. So I started running.”

My inner Yoda voice satisfied, I registered to run the 250km Gobi March through China’s Gobi Desert this summer. *gulp*.

Believe in yourself and spread the word

Although they came from humble running backgrounds, each has persevered and gone on to accomplish amazing things. Ray advised me to; “believe in yourself—no matter what. Selfdoubt will be there, but learn to push it aside.” Okay, I’m starting to believe, Ray. I’ve followed Stephanie’s advice, too. “Find a race that you think is out of your league and sign up before you have a chance to talk yourself out of it. Next, tell all your friends and family about it to make sure you won’t back out!” Check. I just told iRunNation, Stephanie!

Make like a Scout — be prepared!

These three individuals have had so much running success because they believe training is crucial. I regularly think about Ferg’s words: “We all have the ability to do these amazing things, but too often people aren’t willing to put in the hard work and sacrifice it takes to get there. For me it’s all about preparation.”

Add to that Stephanie’s advice; “Give yourself the time to train and everything is possible. And get advice. Building a support network around you is the best way to achieve your goals.”

Use the Force

While recently talking to Ray, he was firing off advice faster than I could process; “What is your ideal outcome? What is your secret goal; what do you really want out of this race?” Later, when I messaged him a thanks, I told him he was a running Jedi Knight. He coolly replied; “Learn to use the force, Jim. It’s strong in you.” And what is “the force,” really, but an internal strength and heightened mind-body connection? Maybe I do have it; maybe we all do. Maybe we can all use the force to take our running to the next level.

The Journey Beyond Average

Cancer, despite its malicious attack on my body, has gifted me with a perpetual fear of death—which, in turn has forced me to realize some existential truths.  It may not seem like a fair trade off now, but eventually, I have no doubt, it’ll prove invaluable. You see, having the knowledge and belief that you’re capable of much more, yet, not acting on it is possibly the greatest weakness there is. And maybe it’s cliché, but it’s about time I lived up to my potential. I have the opportunity to be a difference maker and a positive influence—I can feel it. However, in order for that to happen, my thought patterns were and are in need of change.

This has always been the difficult part, because governing the direction of our thinking can be complicated. Our daily fears and doubts are ever present, continually magnifying; and the less we do about addressing them, the less we’re able to do. Eventually, our apprehension represses us so much that we miss out on opportunities, or even dreams, as we become uninspiring—average.  

And let’s face it; there’s nothing inspiring about average. Even though we may sympathize with it and its bag of excuses; it doesn’t exactly provoke a spark for change or action. What does move us, though, are the people who overcome adversity; stare down and face their challenges—own them. It’s the people who rise above, and show strength of character, who become our mentors; our motivators. Them, we’ll follow; because there’s just something about bravery that resonates very deep within us.

Personally, I believe it’s the positive energy which draws us in. Like a magnetic force or a light in the ever present abyss of negativity. When we glimpse courage in others, it reflects back to the potential that lies within. If they can accomplish or create something extraordinary, maybe it means it’s possible for us as well. After all, we’re each made up of the same stuff—biologically speaking. The only difference is the thoughts in our heads, which, we have the ability to control... or at least learn to. And as I’ve recently discovered, sometimes the learning curve can be very steep.

One of the most beautiful aspects of running is the influence it has on your mind. It’s a wonderful teacher of productive affirmation; which is very transferable to all other aspects of life. Perhaps that’s why I yearn to run even more now—post cancer. Don’t get me wrong, it won’t conquer all of our fears and doubts. But that’s okay; we’re supposed to have some as a survival mechanism. We just need to acknowledge their existence so we can then choose to channel them into something tangible and useful.

In every situation there are choices. And it’s the ones we make in the most challenging circumstances that define our legacy. I have no doubt the people around me would understand if I just wanted to get past cancer and back to a “normal” life. But I can’t and I won’t. My mind set has moved so far beyond normal—which I equate to average—that I don’t ever plan on seeing it again.

And if you’ve read this far, maybe it’s because you’re starting to believe in the same thing:  Yourself.

Runners Book of Awesome

My article in the August issue of iRun Magazine.

The Runners' Book of Awesome

Running is awesome. And we’re lucky as runners, because we have our own world of wonderful happenings and moments that are just part of the experience. So inspired by The Book of Awesome - a book of simple, brilliant everyday things - here are a few of them:

A Tail Wind

You’re three-quarters of the way through your long run; you’re zonked and have been out of liquids for a while. It has been such a tough morning that you’re praying you’ll have enough energy left to make it home. Please, oh please. You turn east onto the long homestretch - feet almost dragging now - but wait, great beards of Zeus! There’s a tail wind! It’s a 15-20 k.p.h. breeze coming from the north-east-east. (Yep, just five minutes a day of the Weather Network has made you a freakin’ meteorologist.) It’s as if Mother Nature herself has looked down upon you and said “there, there tiny struggling runner, allow my soothing hand to gently push you the rest of the way home.” You happily comply, because the feeling of the wind upon your back as you run is like having another gear. AWESOME

Pace Bunnies

The rest of the world is missing out. How cool would it be if there were pace bunnies in our everyday lives? Okay, I’m going to the mall and am not going to spend too much money, because I’m following the $75 bunny. There’s a big assignment due at work, but it’s no problem, I’ve got the high productivity bunny. But really it’s what they do for us at races. Adorning their crazy ears like some valiant knight’s helmet, leading us fearlessly onward to the promised land of a PB. These wonderful folks are like something out of a storybook. Step aside Santa, move over Tooth Fairy, thanks for coming out Easter Bunny, there are some new sheriffs in town. Bless you, pace bunnies, you are…AWESOME

The Superstar Treatment

If a runner friend asks you what you did yesterday and you tell them you ran 15k, don’t expect accolades. If you’re lucky, you might get the nod of approval, but beware, they could also one-up you by saying something like: “nice, I ran, too - 18k.” What the heck? I did 15k, give me something!

If you really want the superstar treatment, you have to tell a casual friend or co-worker who is obliious to our world. The kind of person who thinks a long run is from the driveway to the house when it’s raining. When you tell him you did 15k, he will truly be in awe. “Whoa, 15k is crazy! How far is that?” “It’s 15 k-i-lo- m-e-t-r-e-s” you can coolly reply. And the stunned look on his face will tell you he still can’t grasp the magnitude of your monumental achievement. It’s as if Superman himself is standing in his presence. Yes, that is a more appropriate response. You are a superstar! Thank you non-runner friends, we appreciate your lack of knowledge on the subject. AWESOME

New Gear

The magnificent aroma of new shoes; that soft feel of new shorts on your butt; your new watch that can satellite track you down to the centimetre even if you’re running on Mars. Seriously, is there anything better than getting new gear? In the old days, like a decade ago, you’d run in cotton and by 20 minutes in your shirt would weigh a gazillion pounds. Now, clothing is made from tiny space microbes from a distant galaxy that gather your sweat and launch it from your body with tiny catapults. And the second you get something new you can’t wait to run just so you can take it for a test drive. You can easily spot other runners who are sporting new stuff as well, and not just from the blinding gleam of their white shoes. Their run has an eerily similar look to a model on a catwalk, plus the little spins at every corner are a dead giveaway. And that’s just the guys! AWESOME

Courteous Drivers

Unless you do every single run on a treadmill or live so remotely in the Rockies that the only gridlock you experience is from a herd of elk, then at some point you have to make like Frogger (that awesome ’80s video game hero) and deal with the chaos of our road ways. Dodging and weaving traffic, coupled with some fist shaking and swearing, can be an all-too-familiar occurrence for many of us. Yet for every cell phone-using, race-car-driving wannabe behind the wheel, there are many more drivers who are courteous and respectful. Whether it’s the oncoming vehicle who switches lanes entirely to give you ample room - in case you need to flail your arms about, or need a wide berth to reach for your water belt or gel - or the guy at the stop sign who sees you, makes eye contact and gives the friendly wave to proceed. That’s right mini-van, I see you, seeing me, seeing you. Oh, why thank-you, I will mosey on. AWESOME

Crossing the Finish Line

Been there? Enough said. If not, you really should experience a race day, because it’s awesome to the power of, you guessed it...AWESOME

Running for my life

This is an article I wrote for the June 2010 issue of iRun magazine:

How many experiences in our lives can be classified as monumental enough to be destiny shifting - the kind of moments that are so powerful, they can move us all the way to the foundation of our core values? And if or when one of these events happens to you will you view it as hardship and misfortune…or perceive it as opportunity?

When 2010 began, the most pressing challenge facing me, or so I thought, was how to schedule the necessary runs to ensure hitting my 1:30 half-marathon goal in March. But as noted, life has the ability to humble you beyond belief at any point in time, and just a few weeks into the year my world was irrevocably rocked. At 36, I was staring in the face of - what I assumed would be decades away - my own mortality.

YOU REALLY, REALLY NEED TO GO FOR A RUN

It’s too bad it often takes something life threatening to give us a glimpse of divine insight. And I’d like to say I’m different, but obviously not, because like many before me, my proverbial eyes were opened in a doctor’s office. When you’re diagnosed with cancer - in my case, a large intestinal tumour - two things immediately happen to you. The first of which is nothing; literally. You simply go blank, as if everything you thought you knew has come to a screeching halt. And second, the instant things do begin to move again, it’s with a mind jarring explosion of emotions; fear, anger, disgust, and in this case, surprise - a lot of surprise.

Yet, this isn’t a story of my emotional battle with and/or triumph over cancer, which at this point is still a daily struggle; it's about one very simple realization. Because, although there were a barrage of voices bellowing in my head after the news, there was one yelling louder than all the rest; and it was saying “you really, really need to go for a run.”

THE POWER TO HEAL AND STRENGTHEN

Like an addict needing a fix, I did need to run, and the next day had possibly the best of my life. Hopefully you’ve been fortunate enough to enjoy one of these surreal episodes and can relate. As I moved along - or more appropriate, glided - my body, my whole being, was in a higher state of awareness. Everything felt fantastic, connected, perfectly synchronized. The air going in and out of my lungs, my heart as it pumped in my chest, the rhythm of my feet hitting the ground, the feel of the wind on my face... It’s possible I could have gone on like that forever.

I used the run. Milked it for all I could, from its therapeutic effect, to its power to heal and strengthen. After all, it’s what we do, we use our runs to remedy all manner of ailment; it’s part of the allure and magic of our beautiful and peculiar obsession. And just three days later that notion was reinforced to me by a woman taking the 10k clinic I’d been teaching. I’ll never forget - as we jogged through the night, snow falling around us - how she shared with me her journey into the world of running. She explained how last year she was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, and after the initial shock wore off, felt absolutely compelled to prove her resolve, if only to herself. Now, here was a woman with zero running background, yet decided to go out and train for a half-marathon. And she met her goal too, at the Scotiabank Waterfront Half-Marathon in Toronto last September.

THIS IS WHO I AM; AND THIS IS MY OPPORTUNITY

As I listened to her that evening, I really got it; it was perfect logic that likely only a fellow runner could comprehend. The truth is we are all motivated to do this for something, some internal force. And that connects every one of us. Think about it, when you see another runner what do you do? Even if you’re in the car and they’re ambling along the road side, you look. You look, because in that single glance you understand why they do it and you understand them.

Which means you also understand me, and in turn, my realization. It’s not about the things that happen to you, it’s about the things you make happen. Just like cancer doesn’t define who you are as a person. Seven-inch scars on your body don’t speak to the type of character you possess. Six months of chemotherapy can’t show people what your values consist of. But how you deal with and respond to adversity, says everything about you. And my personal response to cancer: a marathon when I’m done chemo treatments in the fall, and an ultra marathon next spring. That is who I am; and this is my opportunity.