Will this be the final installment? At this point I don't know. Let's continue.
We left off with me at mile 30-something and right knee hurting. By the say, the scenery was absolutely fantastic and beautiful during this 50-mile journey. The aid station workers were helpful, and most of all, the runners along the way were enjoyable. I've often had the Utopian thought that if everyone simply took up distance running the world would be a much nicer place. Distance running has a way of loosening the inhibitions and making one inclined to regard their fellow path-traveler as a friend before they regard them as a stranger. This is very much unlike "real life" in which we're usually wary and tight-lipped with those whom we don't know. I've always enjoyed the camaraderie and easy friendship (even if it is fleeting) that running brings. Even while your fellow travelers may want to beat you, they nevertheless want to help you as well. Strange but true.
Vibram Five Fingers. Do these words ring a bell for anyone out there? Originally I had been training in Vibram Five Fingers footwear. They are more aptly called "footwear" than "shoes" because they are little more than protective gloves for the feet. It's a great concept. The idea is to let the foot function naturally rather than the artificial and limited role the foot becomes accustomed to when enclosed in the virtual tomb we call a "shoe." But alas, during the course of my training I ran into an issue with my Vibrams in which my foot, leg, and tendons were not adapting fast enough to the primal function desired of them and promoted by the Vibrams. I had to switch to the Nike "Free" shoe. It was still minimal, but very substantial compared to the Vibrams. It turned out to be a good compromise, and my problems went away. During the initial two hours of the race and experiencing the rocky and uneven terrain I became even more convinced that my switch to more conventional and protective footwear was the right one. I thought that surely any modern western human foot would not be able to bear the sharp edges, rocks, and uneven surfaces of the course if only shod in Vibrams. Well, perhaps MY foot couldn't, but during the mid parts of the race I came across several runners wearing Vibrams! True, they were but few in number, but they were ably negotiating the terrain and seemed none worse for the wear. Perhaps I can work on some more personal adaptation this next year and revive the recently discarded personal "Tribal Man" appellation and mantra.
Back to the hurt knee and the aid station at mile 30-something. I stayed there for longer than five minutes. This was decision time. Should I DNF? ("DNF" stands for "Did Not Finish") or should I persist somehow. I knew at this point that if I continued with my current pace and way of running I might be in for knee damage that would result in having to take weeks or months off for recovery. I definitely did not want that. I didn't want to DNF either? One reason was personal pride. If someone would ask about my race I would have to admit I didn't finish. I could give a good reason for the DNF, but still it would be a DNF. I also did not want to DNF for reasons of principle. That is, if one has started a task, and the task is a worthy one, then complete it - even if it is completed slowly and with difficulty. Don't get me wrong. There are indeed circumstance in which one should throw in the towel and quit. One of these circumstances would be if any movement whatsoever brought the injury-type (not exertion-type) pain that my knee was issuing. However, after some assessing of the situation at hand, I determined I could move without the knee pain - but I couldn't run downhill or even do anything above a virtual shuffle even on the flats. My hope of a good finishing place and time evaporated, but I became more and more resolute to finish the race. Over the next 10 miles or so I again contemplated a DNF a few times, but each time the urge was weaker and my decision to continue was stronger. Three of my kids would be meeting me later at the finish and also hoped to run in the "Kids' Race." How could I tell explain to them a DNF? How could I set that sort of example in good conscience? Wouldn't I want them to finish their race even if they encountered problems or were passed by many other kids - or even if they were in last place? I had to set the right example. The example of the Tanzanian marathon runner brought up by Pastor Steve also both chided and encouraged me. The Tanzanian had been an Olympic contender and the pride of his country, but had suffered physical misfortune during the race and had lost all hopes of a fast finish. Indeed, he had been reduced to a very slow pace. When asked why he persisted in the race he said something like this: "My country did not send me here to quit, but they sent me here to FINISH the marathon." My quotation may not be verbatim, but it contains the sentiment. It was a sentiment I shared - though it was only myself, friends, and family who were 'sending' me to this race.
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