I used to be a long distance runner, once upon a time, and honestly, I used to love it.
It started about the time my youth soccer career wound down, when I realized that out of something like 200 kids competing for maybe sixteen roster spots on the high school soccer team, I was in over my head as far as landing a spot. So I signed up for cross country in high school instead.
I was never the fastest sprinter; lots of guys could beat me in a 50 yard dash, but over a mile or two, I could typically hold my own against, or even outrun, most of the other kids, many who didn't have the stamina to go an entire mile without stopping. So I thought I would sign up. Though, I quickly realized that as with the soccer club, these were the elite runners in the school. Guys who could average under six minutes per mile over a three mile course. I wasn't ever in that league. But a spot on the squad was ready for me, and I was happy to do it.
Running is a very individual sport. You are competing mainly against yourself, always trying to improve on your own course time. The first year, I suffered from tendonitis in my ankles and shins, but the next year I improved; and my junior year for some reason was my fastest year (not sure why I was a step slower the following year but that's how it was.) In the races, I would typically finish in the lower mid-pack, which was respectable, but certainly I was no "Kyle Larson On Foot." But that was okay. The races were held on this system of trails up in the hills of the San Francisco Bay Area, and it was a roughly three mile course. Race day was kind of like a big celebratory event where you'd hang out up in the hills with your respective school, wait for your race, then go for it. The adrenaline would be with me for the first mile, but afterwards, after the first big uphill section, you'd settle into your stride and just keep the pace until the next big climb, a steep uphill sprint at around mile 2.2. Coming down the back stretch, you always hoped you'd have enough gas to be able to sprint to the finish, and hopefully pick up a spot or two before crossing the start/finish line. Sometimes I did, and I was in a few photo finishes for that coveted 24th place spot (out of maybe 40 racers.)
But mostly, I was in my own head, listening to the rhythm of my breathing and my feet hitting the dirt, or the pavement if it was a practice run, thinking of school related stuff, music, or girls. And by the way, there were a couple super athletic girls on that squad who I thought were HOT! You really were, literally, chasing girls while doing cross country. A couple of them were faster runners than I was, (Faster than a lot of the guys actually) which I honestly thought was pretty sexy back then.
The practice runs were fun; we'd go anywhere from three to up to ten miles on the hilly, paved bay area streets, and it was always an adventure. The summer after high school, I'd go running at night, just because I enjoyed it, and it beat running during the hot, humid summer days. Running at night was more fun anyway. The runner's high you'd get was better than any drug, this euphoric feeling that is indescribable. I do kind of miss that. So yeah, I loved running and it was one of the few things I enjoyed about my high school experience.
I can't really keep it up these days though. It is too hard on my knees and joints; the last time I tried to get back into any kind of distance running, I would get sore for up to a week afterwards, and at best, I was only a shell of my high school running prowess. So these days, I stick to just mountain biking, hiking, and snow boarding; which are still great exercise, but a little easier on the old joints. Anyway, with that, I'll leave you with a Music Corner:
What better song encapsulates this post than this one:
I got a lot of flack for my love of Iron Maiden in high school; it got me derisively labeled a "hesher" or a geek, or at best, a Beavis and Butthead type, which this last description was probably closest to the truth, sadly. There were not a lot of metalheads at that school, but nonetheless I found people to bond with over our love of running, rather than music. This particular Maiden album had a distinctly "Brighter" sound than the five preceeding ones, in a way that was hard to explain. I guess it was more melodic, less gritty, but still heavy, and still had that trademark Steve Harris bass line and dualing Murray/Smith guitar duo to keep it real.
So anyway, that's all I got for now.