I run because I want to save the world....

I don't watch the news much. I should be better informed. But, virtually everything the news delivers depresses me.

Catastrophes and disasters surround us. We are on borrowed time. The world is falling apart.

The rich and powerful expand their empire and those who don't fall into this category work harder for less. It behooves you to lower your expectations. It behooves you to get what you can while you can.

The world feels like a darker, more foreboding place than it did when I was young. It seems like a more cutthroat, Machiavellian place. Shadows abound.

I feel like I am watching a train wreck happening. I wave my arms furiously hoping the conductor will see me. I yell as loud as I can hoping to somehow avert disaster.

I often feel helpless. Sometimes it all feels futile to me. But, not all is lost.

In big and small ways, I cast light on the shadows. I convince others to run with me. Each mile they run is a shadow killer.

Each mile prolongs youth. Each run staves off anxiety and depression. Each miles makes us better.

I have helped thousands of people become runners. By becoming runners, they have become better people. Infected by me, they become smarter, bolder, and happier.

Maybe they in turn spread the disease to someone else. The virus grows and the shadows dissipate. The light grows.

There is much I can't control. There are forces much larger than me at work. I am just one person.

But, I do what I can. I spread my virus in whatever I can. I infect as many as I can.

I run because I want to save the world...

I run because I am on fire...

I could tell something was different as soon as I walked out the door. I was breathing easier. There was a bounce in my step.

I tightened my laces. I shook out the kinks. I exhaled. I clicked my watch and the game was afoot.

It only took a few strides for me to feel it. I glided across the ground barely making contact. I was rolling.

Running was far from a chore today. It was what I was born to do today. My legs turned over unconsciously, effortlessly.

I smiled with the knowledge that this was a special day. I could go as far and as fast as I wanted. This run was mine.

Had I slept particularly well last night? Did I eat something special?  Was there a mysterious PED circulating in my bloodstream I had inadvertently ingested?

Maybe it was all of the above. Whatever the reason(s), I wasn't looking a gift horse in the mouth. I would simply run like one.

Everything was a blur as I flew by. Trees and bushes blended together as my strides turned into miles. The paved road faded and segued into a dirt trail.

Clouds of dirt and dust kicked up as I glided uphill. Lizards and beetles scattered in my wake. I'd leave the final destination to my legs. They seemed to know best.

The ascent continued. I was nonplussed. Everything was clicking. I was just getting warmed up.

Hundreds of feet I climbed. The world below grew smaller and smaller. My wheels turned over faster and faster.

I shifted into a higher gear. Sweat poured down providing a subtle reminder that while I felt unstoppable today, I was still at least vaguely human. Although, I felt far from human.

The hills kept coming. So, did I. Hundreds of feet turned into thousands. I touched the clouds and ran through the fog pouring over the hill.

The crest approached and I floored it. My legs seemed to have a mind of their own. They spun furiously with the knowledge that I could handle anything today.

I paused briefly at the crest. Looming ahead was yet another mountain to climb. There was no debate.

I shook out the kinks. I exhaled. I rolled on.

I run because I am on fire.....

Saturday Recovery Run @ PSOAS (9/20/14)

Saturday's recovery run launches from outside 333 3rd Street between Folsom/Harrison.

If you need to use the restroom, change, and/or store some personal items, head up to PSOAS in Suite 205.

Here's a link to the course map-

Saturday's Recovery Run Course Map.

Here is a brief description of the course:

We will cross Folsom from 3rd Street onto the sidewalk and take a right. We will run along Folsom all the way to the Embarcadero. We will cross the street and take a left onto the Embarcadero.

Run along the Embarcadero past the Ferry Building. Beginner runners will run to the intersection of Embarcadero/Green. Look for the street sign for ‘GREEN’. This is a hair over 1.5 miles. Turn around and head back to PSOAS for 3 MILES!

Everyone else will continue running along the Embarcadero. Intermediate runners will run to the intersection of Embarcadero/Bay. Look for the Houston's Restaurant on the LEFT side of the Embarcadero. This is 2 miles Turn around and head back to PSOAS for 4 MILES!

Advanced and Race level runners will continue running along the Embarcadero until it turns into ‘Jefferson’. Run along Jefferson to the intersection of Jefferson/Powell. Look for the Gap Store on the left. This is 2.5 miles. Advanced level runners will turn around here and head back to PSOAS for 5 MILES!

Race level runners will running through Fisherman’s Wharf right to the edge of Aquatic Park. Once you reach the cul-de-sac at the edge of Fisherman’s Wharf/Aquatic Park, you’ve logged 3 miles. Turn around and head back to PSOAS for 6 MILES!

I run because I can weather the storm...

Something is off. Actually, it's not just one thing that is off. Everything is off.

Mercury is in retrograde. The stars are grossly misaligned. I am experiencing some kind of karmic retribution.

The fates have conspired against me. The hits just keep coming. The storm continues.

My every move is met with a stout headwind. I seek refuge from the torrential downpour, but there is no shelter to be had. Everything is an uphill battle.

Drenched, cold, and exhausted, I contemplate stopping. What's the point of continuing? This is futile. It is sisyphean.

The wind howls angrily in my direction. It mocks me as I try to take another step forward. This is no storm, it is a tempest.

I lean over and breathe deeply. Have I been here before? How did I survive last time?

Thunder rumbles menacingly in the distance. The dark clouds shift nervously above me. The rain turns cold and becomes sleet.

I could cry, but I laugh instead. The universe is clearly getting a kick out of my plight. A crack of lightning erupts across the sky for a split second illuminating everything.

It jars me. It provides the illumination I need. Everything is ephemeral. Everything is transitory.

Nothing lasts forever. Let the tempest rage. It will die soon, but I won't.

I take another step. It's a slow and muddy step that barely covers a few inches. It's a baby step.....at best.

The wind rages again. I take another step. The sleet pelts my face. I cover a few more inches.

Trees shake violently. Their leaves assault my face. I lift my foot again.

The tempest screams in protest. I smile in response. I am a force of nature too.

I run because I can weather the storm.....

I run because there are countless to convert....

I identify as agnostic. But, I am not without religion. My religion is largely comprised of breathing, sweating, and persevering.

This is a religion measured in miles, commitment, and consistency. Failures and shortcomings are not ignored, but they are not belabored. You examine them, learn what you can, and keep moving forward.

It's a religion that requires extensive travel. One must cover hills, trails, and valleys. Plodding forward for unknown miles in search of salvation is not unusual.

It is a set of beliefs that requires dealing with discomfort. Enduring wind, rain, sleet, and more is required. I'd be lying if I said there was no self-flagellation involved.

It's a meritocracy. Hard work is rewarded. It's not a question of if, but when you will be rewarded. Salvation is earned.

This religion doesn't discriminate. Big and small are welcome. Fast and slow are embraced. Wherever you come from and whatever your past might look like, there is room for you.

Just show up. Just try. Just go one step further than you did last time. That's all I ask from my congregation.

I've invested the better part of a decade trying to convert people. I haven't been able to get everyone to drink the Kool-Aid, but I've managed to convert a few thousand, maybe more.

I don't dwell on those I haven't managed to convert. Those I have managed to convert are often changed forever. Once you've seen the light, there's no going back.

My religion has served as a catalyst for exploring new directions. It's catalyzed new thought. It has opened eyes.

I've seen many from my congregation go further than they ever could have imagined. I've been witness to members of my flock explore parts of themselves they never knew existed.  Enlightenment is not unusual.

I've witnessed love. I've witnessed marriage. I've been blessed to see children born from couples who met in some way, shape, or form via my teachings.

I am extraordinarily lucky to have affected as many as I have. But, I'm not done. There are so many more out there who need help. There are so many more who are looking for salvation.

I run because there are countless to convert...

I run because another path is out there..

Everything feels small. Everything feels routine. I feel trapped inside a machine of my own making.

I do my job. I come home. Rinse and repeat.

A nagging anxiety creeps up from somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach. It gnaws impatiently. It growls in discontent.

This is not what I dreamt of as a child. This is not what I aspired to. This is not the life I want.

There has to be another way. Surely, there is another path. I can't see it clearly, but I know it must be there.

I have no illusions traveling this path will be easy. It will have no shortage of hills. It will have a multitude of bumps. It will be a long road.

But, grinding down hills is my thing. Taking bumps is not foreign to me. Logging a few extra miles is not a problem.

This path includes constant uncertainty. No compass can ensure safe navigation. Moments of doubt and fear will be around every corner.

All of this gives me pause, but does not stop me. Fear isn't always a bad thing. Fear can keep you on your toes.

I open the door and look outside the machine I am trapped inside. The sun shines. The wind blows. There isn't a single path, there are countless.

I take the first trepidatious step and I am still standing. I take a few more. The fear is there, but it is muted and understated.

The walk turns into a run. The dangers of this new path are far outweighed by the opportunities. I don't have to be a cog. I don't have to be caged.

I do have to deal with the hills, bumps, uncertainty, and additional miles this path demands. But, living something other than a small life requires this. The easy path is not enough for me...

I run because another path is out there..

I run because there are bigger beasts to slay...

It started with a couple exhausting, painful miles. I had been an athlete for fourteen years, but running was a different beast. It gave no quarter.

Exhausted, I wondered how anyone could engage in this kind of senseless self/flagellation on a regular basis. This beast had fangs and didn't back down. It would make you bleed.

While I was wobbly, I was still standing. My armor was dinged, but not terribly dented. I licked my wounds and sharpened my spears.

I ran far and wide. I ran long hills left me gasping. I braved the bitter cold in preparation for my next encounter with the beast.

I would be tougher. I would be stronger. I would not fold.

The beast had gotten the better of me the first time around. Maybe I hadn't taken it seriously the first time. This mistake would not be repeated.

I would be ready for the next encounter. I slogged through a withering hill visualizing the beast staring at me. It licked its teeth eager to test me, eager to end me.

I stared back defiantly. I tried to convey quiet confidence. Fierce and hungry this beast was, but invincible it wasn't. It could bleed too.

But, the questions persisted. Was I ready to bleed to win? Was I ready to suffer in order to move forward?

The only way I could know for sure was to stand toe to toe again. So, I found myself staring again at the beast. In a few short minutes, we would lock horns again.

The quiet before the storm was deafening. This would be a slugfest. It would not be pretty.

But, there is little about running that is pretty. It more often involves being tough, being patient, and sometimes being beastly.

The game was afoot. I kept stride. I reveled in the knowledge that I would draw blood one way or the other. Win or lose, my adversary would not forget me.

Nor would I forget to take nothing for granted. Predictably, no quarter was given. Predictably, we both drew blood.

I careened towards the finish line with the breath of the beast hot down my neck. Fatigue took a backseat as I realized I was inches from the next step.

I let it all out. What little I had left was spent. Mercifully, it ended.

The beast was at my feet. I had felled it. I would live to run another day.

In the distance, I saw storm clouds. I heard thunder. I could not linger long.

Something bolder was out there. Something tougher was out there. Something bigger was out there.

I run because there are bigger beasts to slay...