I feel like my childhood was full of happy moments. But in between I remember vividly feeling trapped. Staring outside my first grade classroom window as the teacher groaned on about who knows what, I felt trapped. Being dropped off at my babysitter and watching mom leave when I was little, I felt trapped. Watching cartoons and hearing other beautiful make-believe stories in books, I felt trapped. Trying to fall asleep by counting seconds between minutes on the clock and counting as high as I could, I felt trapped. I counted into the thousands once and still couldn't fall asleep. I don't know why, I felt trapped. But my parents took me outside. And I immediately felt free. And as I grew older, the further I went, the freer I felt. As an adult, the further I ran, the happier I felt. I made sense of life in this way and it worked.
The body and mind are always striving for a solution to the problem, whatever the problem may be. A solution to loneliness is to meet people. A solution to a boring job is to get a new and exciting one. A solution to an injured knee is rest and rehab. It's not always clear what solution is best or whether there's even a solution that makes sense. But the clearest solution to any problem I've ever encountered is running. It's like a template for an elaborate work of art. The work of art being life. If I can run 26.2 miles, I can pass calculus. If I can run 50 miles, I can graduate college. If I can run 100 miles, I can get the job of my dreams. I can be stuck and confused and emotional and tired, but if I can finish this race, then I'm free and can accomplish anything else in life. It's not really this straightforward, but it's the basic concept that makes sense to me. Running takes the messy, confusing stuff, and straightens it all out.
What's crazy is these messy and confusing life things are always so much more difficult than running. These life things don't end very quickly sometimes. Pain and helplessness and loneliness, it's excruciating. But 100 miles is just a little pinch, almost just a bad dream. I start running at 6am today and by tomorrow morning I'll be done. So freaking simple. What happens in between is just patience. But indescribable agony when life situations don't go as planned and people breaking hearts and anger filling voids, can last for weeks or months or years. And destroy so much more than a little muscle tissue and a pair of shoes. I can handle my feet exploding and my lungs burning and the monotony of seconds passing like hours. But I can't handle the emptiness of an unhealthy relationship that drags on, or the loneliness that follows an escape from an unhealthy relationship, etcetera. That 1,000 foot climb will be over so much quicker and the nausea will pass so much sooner. It's not like ultra running is actually that easy. It's just easier than the rest of it. And when I finish I won't feel trapped. I'll feel free and happy.
It's not some addiction. Or even a sport. It's a way to understand being alive and a way to understand the times I don't feel alive. Without these long moments deep in the mountains, I'd be lazy and angry and fat and numb and some other sort of not good. I don't want to know what else. I don't want to go there. Instead, I want to go to the top of that mountain and look around. I want my five senses to light up. I want to feel the ground and see the air as my legs and lungs burn. I want to fly down the mountain like a kid who just discovered the biggest playground in the world. I want my heart to beat hard with vigor. And it will all be fine. Because I figured it out. I can run and it sets me free.
