I ran the Big Sur marathon last weekend. Which, considering I like to run marathons and run many of them, wasn't really a big deal, except for one thing -- I learned something from it.
Well, I say I learned something. Actually I came to understand something, which perhaps is the same thing as learning, but in this case I think I came to understand what I really already knew. I just didn't have a way to put it into words.
See, for many years, I've struggled to come up with an answer to the question most serious runners get asked: Why do you run? Why do you do it?
I've struggled for an answer. Usually I say, "Because it's fun." And no one believes me.
One time not too long ago, I gave a talk to a group encouraging them to run. At the end, I took questions from audience, and one man asked me the "why?" question, to which I gave my "it's fun" answer.
The questioner responded, "I've seen those marathons, and when those runners come to the finish line, they don't look like they're having fun. They look dead tired and awful."
Needless to say, he didn't believe me about it being fun.
Hell, I didn't quite believe me, except I didn't have any other way to answer it.
Until now.
See, at the Big Sur Marathon expo the day before the race, a guy named Charlie Engle was one of the featured speakers. I attended his talk.
Charlie Engle is an ultra-marathoner. He is getting some attention these days for being the protagonist of a documentary film called Running the Sahara, which is narrated by Matt Damon.
Charlie, a (recovering) alcoholic who took up ultra-running several years ago, has come to see ultra-running as his way to understand life. And toward the end of his talk, he got the to-be-expected "why do you do it?" question.
In his case, the question was really why do you put yourself through all this pain and agony? Let's face it, he was telling us about running through the Sahara Desert, from Senegal to Cairo, for a total of 4,300+ miles over a bit over 100 days. That's more than 43 miles a day. Need I mention that he showered twice during that time period?
He answered, "I really believe that physical suffering brings emotional transformation."
That resonated with me. I can't say I've become "emotionally transformed" by running, but somehow, through the most difficult marathons or even in the 50-miler of done, I've learned that it does allow you to look at life differently.
That is, you look at life not as what it gives you, not how much stuff you have, not how comfortable you are, but at what life is -- breathing, moving, feeling.
And that really hit me during the marathon the next day, as I was running along the cliffs of Central California, heading from Big Sur to Carmel while climbing up to Hurricane Point, when it hit me -- physical suffering is good. The pain is good. The being-out-of breath is good.
And as I ran, uphill at a 15% grade into 30-mph winds, I understood why it was good -- because physical suffering lets us really feel what it is to be alive.
That, I believe, is what it's all about.
