Why I'm Back

5 Oct

There was a time, not so long ago, when I had no desire to return to competitive running. I had a vague idea of perhaps doing road races, but I never seriously considered getting back into track and field. I often reminisced about what I had accomplished in high school: a 4:27.7 1600 and a 9:52.4 3200. Not elite marks, by any means, but certainly respectable, and enough to elicit awe from most people. I had put these performances on a pedestal in my mind, tacitly acknowledging that I would never again get back to that level. It would be to hard too return to form, too demanding on both my schedule and my body. I would end up injured again, which would interfere with my military duties (I commissioned as an Air Force officer in June). It was time to move on to other things.

My change of heart was the product of several events that occurred more or less simultaneously. First, at age 22, I seriously started to contemplate the reality of my own mortality. Old age and physical decline were no longer merely nebulous concepts. For the first time in my life, I realized that I would not live forever, and that my youth would someday depart. There is only a narrow window of time in which one can fully develop one's athletic abilities. That window starts to close at 30, and by 40 it's pretty much slammed shut, though this varies by the sport in question. In any event, I started to assess my life based on what I could do now, in my youth, that I would not be able to do in ten or twenty years. I acknowledged my passion for running and swore to myself that I would discover my true potential before it was too late. I had already lost three years of training; I couldn't afford to lose more.

Meanwhile, the Beijing Olympics had arrived, and I found myself glued to the TV at least three hours every evening. I watched everything: swimming, gymnastics, diving, basketball, rowing, volleyball, track and field, even table tennis and water polo. I marveled at the talent on display, at the supreme athletic achievement of people who had honed their skills in a single endeavor. I started to live through their performances vicariously, fantasizing about being able to perform such feats myself. My hunger for athletics started coming back, and with it a wave of memories and desires that I had long kept locked away: the masochistic consumption of pain as a long-term investment, the insatiable drive for self-improvement, the thrill of competition, and the glory of hard-fought victory against a worthy adversary. It was then that I realized how much I missed running, the only sport in which I have ever had any significant ability. All of my ambitions, hitherto unrealized and ostensibly abandoned, came roaring back with a vengeance. "I've got unfinished business," I thought to myself. I made a resolution to myself, then and there, to surpass my previous form and get down to a 4:20 mile within one year. Fortunately, this resolution coincided with my transition away from college and into the working world. I found myself with more time on my hands than I had ever had in the previous four years. I needed some form of recreation, some passion to lead my off-duty hours, and I could think of no better candidate than running.

That resolution I spoke of occurred in late August. So now I'm about six weeks into my return from retirement, hungrier and more driven than I ever have been. Against all odds, I'm back. Every day I can feel my aerobic engine, idle for over three years, roaring back to life.

This phoenix will rise from the ashes, and make it's voice heard in the Valley of the Sun.