Toe the Line

This blog has sat dormant for many months, but that does not reflect the state of my mind.

This summer has been one of the best of my entire life: it was the first time in 12 years that I was not either chasing late season track meets or training for a fall season. For the first time in my adult life, I threw training as the number one concern to the wind and took to mountains, forests, and the outdoors. I have long felt great passion for outdoor adventure—the draw of the personally unexplored—and I arrived at an intersection of my life where both the physical state in which I lived and mental state allowed me to spend virtually every weekend satiating this yearning unaccompanied by the guilt of inconsistent training. No priority given to a Saturday workout or Sunday long run? No problem.

Born out of my combined interest in skiing and type two fun, I took a couple spring backcountry ski trips, summiting Mt. Adams for a single 7000 foot run on the way down, rode my bike over the McKenzie Pass on 242 when it was closed to vehicles, ran up Spencer’s Butte to watch sunrise on the longest day of the year, backpacked through meadows in Yosemite, summited Half Dome at sunrise to watch the fiery colors of dawn wash over to the valley, chased tuna fifty miles out in the Pacific, rode my motorcycle up to the base of South Sister and ran to the top just to see what it was like, took camping trips where I strapped gear onto my motorcycle and ended my day when the sunset, hiked up a mountain with a group of friends to witness The Great American Eclipse in the center of the path of totality, went mountain hopping in the Wallowa Mountains, rode the rim of Crater Lake on my trusty (human powered) bike, and capped off summer a day late by summiting Mt. Bachelor and skiing ten inches of powder back down on the first day of fall.

Mt. Adams

Biking 242 over McKenzie Pass

Sunrise on the longest day of the year

Meadows in Yosemite NP

Summit of Half Dome at sunrise

Summit of South Sister

2017 Great American Eclipse

Mountain hopping in the Wallowas

Mt. Bachelor on the first day of fall

Yes. That was a run on sentence. But its grammatical structure reflects that of my life this summer: exhaustedly and excitedly running from one pursuit of adventure to the next; seemingly linked together, only punctured by a rewarding job developing biotech instruments.

I was still running most mornings before work mainly so I could justify eating the free donuts in the office. It also helped to have a basic level of fitness to support the future weekend adventures I was scheming. But when asked, quite frequently, “when’s your next race?” by teammates, friends, co-workers, and even my parents, I hemmed through, “I don’t know. I was laser focused on training and racing for so long….I’ve been enjoying other things. I’m really not sure. Maybe I’ll run a local race for fun sometime soon.” I wasn’t unhappy—quite the opposite—I didn’t have a desire to race. And that, in itself, felt foreign and left me at a loss to explain.

So it came as no surprise to me that when I took a visit up to Seattle over a long weekend to see my friends Michael and Jessica Eaton, Michael asked me the same question on a run together. I responded in my usual way, he politely listened, and it was quiet for a while. I don’t recall precisely what he said, but it was something close to, “Well, if you ever want to do it again, you definitely have the talent. And the drive. You’re a really good runner.”

It was quiet for a while again.

I mumbled out some response with the confidence of a foe taking her first steps, “Thanks. Yeah, I’m just not sure if I want that. Training is….hard. And now with working full time….” But Michael’s comment was like a shoe on the final few steps to a summit, my mind the rock knocked from rest, tumbling precariously down previously well-trodden paths, many bringing joy, others pain, and a few fear. His confident affirmation was a reminder of that which I loved about the sport—not the part where I failed to make the Olympic Trials, failed to advance any of my personal records on the track for years, failed to have fiscal balance while running in endless circles. I hardened my mind as a result of these failures to move on, encasing my love of racing along with it. But as my mind wandered, clips of joyous running flashed through my memory and created an opening in that case.

August 28th, 2017.

I was leaving work and received a message on my home. "Whoa. David Torrence died today."

Shock. Disbelief. Grief.

He was so young. And fit. And loved.

The next day, I reflected in my running log:

Yesterday David Torrence tragically passed away. It's heart wrenching to think about. I wasn't very close to David, but he was sincere and thoughtful enough of a person to know who I was, even though we only raced each other a handful of times. The last time I saw him in Eugene, I gave him a big hug and we got beers together at Tap & Growler.  

What impressed me most was his frank openness and sincerity in conversation--he was genuinely interested in other people and their pursuits--even outside of running. As Dave Milner mentioned, professional runners (to a somewhat necessary fault) are generally selfish and exist in their own world in order to achieve grandiose dreams. DT broke that mold by being open and accessible to elites and non-elites alike.  

He was the guy posting on Letsrun. He was the guy commentating on Flotrack. He was the the guy speaking his mind, bearing his thoughts for all to see. But he was also the guy daring to take huge risks on the track. He was the guy who wouldn't back down from anyone from any country. He was the guy who would hammer workouts and then hang out after to shoot the breeze and laugh at bad jokes. He was the guy who cared about the sport and would stay around after his races to watch the rest of the meet and cheer on friends. He was the guy who would stay up late to watch track meets on a hacked internet stream dreaming about the moves he would make if he were in the race. He was the guy who embodied delicate balance to achieve joyful passion in a relentless sport. 

He was "Big Wave Dave", DT, a competitor to many, a friend of all, and he will be remembered fondly. My prayers go out to his family and friends. 

This emphasizes the fragility of life and broadens my view. I spend most of my time with this incredibly narrow tunnel vision on what I'm doing, what I'm working on, the troubles I have at work, what I want to achieve, what the next week/month/year/etc... will look like that I forget how tragically swift life can be. Our lives are the flicker of a light bulb in this vast landscape of time on Earth. How am I spending it?

This was a sorrowful reminder to reexamine my own life and to which pursuits and people I was devoting my time and talents. Where was my contribution? Where was my joy? I actually felt quite satisfied with my professional pursuits during working hours, but what was I doing with my 5pm-8am time block?




A few weeks later, a friend messaged me for advice about whether to run a marathon or not. He was doing over 100 miles a week, yet was fearful of jumping into a race and bonking as he had experienced in the past. Abstracted from myself, I responded, "You're training like an animal. You're just afraid it won't translate and you don't want to face it if it doesn't. I get it. But we have to take chances in life and try things so we know what works and what doesn't. We can't always sit and pontificate about what could be."

In that moment, I realized the advice I was dispensing was the final affirmation I needed to take the chance. Maybe with working full time, training won't go as well and I run slower than last year. Maybe with working full time, my training is more structured, the unnecessary pressure to make every workout perfect is relieved, and I end up having a better performance. I wouldn't know unless I tried.

With that, I'm excited to share that I'm registered for the 2017 US Marathon Championships hosted by California International Marathon on December 3rd. The point is to run the race. I can no longer sit around and muse about what could be--take the chance and toe the line.