I won the first slam. I came in last in the second slam. I won the third slam.
More details to come.
I don't run to add days to my life. I run to add life to my days.
So, the marathon is tomorrow, he said.
Well, don't kill yourself, he said.
He is the opposite of a motivator.
He is a short, Napoleon-like man
with a boundless fount of negativity.
Don't kill yourself.
Something awful just might happen.
Be careful out there.
I trained for months upon months,
miles on top of miles on top of miles
up hills and down mountains.
I ran in the rain and in the freezing cold.
When he was sleeping in his four-poster bed
I ran from darkness to light.
I ran so far I got lost
and I kept going
and I lost 50 pounds
and I got found
and I lost some old baggage
and I found my way home
and I kept going and going and going.
And he had the nerve to say something stupid
He said, don't kill yourself.
As if I cared for bad advice.
I can't kill myself
if I don't let Death catch up to me.
But Death doesn't scare me any more.
Death doesn't have anything to do with this.
Pain? I'm ready for the pain.
I will dance madly with pain in the rain until we're both
soaked and dizzy and amazed that we remain on our feet.
Pain reminds me that I am alive, I can feel,
I can dream, I can overcome and I transcend.
I can run forever like a tantric master lost in the moment,
found in the moment, lost in a moment
founded on the foundation of momentum that
you think is crazy but happily
I shout that insanity makes life interesting.
Insanity inspires the artists to run along the knife's edge
to dance along the ridge of the mountain.
This desire to run wells up inside me gushing from a fountain
of blood and sweat
so do not tell me not to kill myself.
I believe death is not the end of the story.
I believe dying is not the worst outcome.
I believe we see resurrections everyday.
So sometime between the time that gun goes off and
I step across the finish line,
I will be empty of everything
except the fire
fueling my desire
to keep on going
keep on running
keep on keeping on
until I finish strong.
"Most people run a race
to see who is fastest.
I run a race
to see who has the most guts."
"...people who spend most of their natural lives riding iron bicycles over the rocky roadsides of this parish get their personalities mixed up with the personalities of their bicycle as a result of the interchanging of atoms of each of them and you would be surprised at the number of people in these parts who nearly are half people and half bicycles.... And you would be flabbergasted at the number of bicycles that are half-human, almost half-man, half-partaking of humanity..."
The Jemez people see mountains as mystical, and see reaching the summit a spiritual endeavor....
Jemez Pueblo, settled by the Jemez in the late 13th century, is one of 19 pueblos in New Mexico and is located about 55 miles northwest of Albuquerque. The 2000 census lists its population as 1,953. At 7,880 feet, the pueblo's backyard, essentially, is miles of high mountain mesas and canyons. That's where they run, in the hills and baking heat, on the occasionally soft sand that strains calf muscles and lungs.
Running has been passed down, like a relay baton, through generations.
"When runners get old, there are some younger ones," said Gachupin, a retired janitor schooled in running by uncles and grandparents. "We teach them. We've been doing that for many, many years."
He grew up in the mountains. The tallest is 11,254-foot Redondo Peak. He'd run up it, then down.
"I was into mountain running," he said. "I chased animals."
There's hope. It doesn't cost a thing to smile. You don't have to pay to laugh. You better thank God for that.