I can't sleep, and I'm attributing my insomnia to my former college teammate, Brad Rettig, who is conquering his own monster right now: the Leadville Trail 100 Run. I'm sure it doesn't surprise you that I have a friend who is willing to take on the task of running 100 miles (at altitude through the mountains) with a goal of finishing under 25 hours. It's the middle of the night, and I've been creeping on his wife's Facebook page at his progress. As I was also tracking him on the race's website, I stumbled over this quote on its homepage:
I can only imagine what is churning through Brad's mind at this point in the race with (only?) 20 or less miles to go. Despite all of Brad's intense physical preparation and his crew's strategic planning, it is up to Brad to determine if the end result is possible. After running more than 80 miles, it's a matter of digging down extra deep to find that reserve: that place where you can convince your brain to use the pain as a kind of sick and twisted fuel. While I can't imagine the depth of Brad's inner strength at this moment, I know that point where you are precariously hanging in the balance. I've been at the 16-mile mark of a marathon, and my body is screaming at me to stop. The last 10 miles seem intangible. Yet, somehow, that "I can. I will!" mentality overrides the physical desire to quit, and I can keep plugging away, until the goal of finishing is accomplished.
I remember doing long runs in high school. We would get to the first mile mark, and I would always exclaim: one down, nine to go. While this proclamation might sound negative, I said it with arrogant optimism. While we still had nine more miles to run, we were given lots of time to test our determination, laugh at each other's jokes, support each other physically and mentally, and eventually relish in our success of finishing our day's goal.
I would like to think that Brad optimistically thought after the first mile: one down, 99 to go.
Whether it's running a 100-mile race (or for the slightly less crazy person, a marathon) or fighting cancer, it's all about doing "more than you think you can." You will, like Jimmy Buffett said, have to have some "changes in latitudes" to navigate the rugged terrain and the overwhelming distance, and you have to make "changes in [your] attitudes"to negotiate the obstacles you will inevitably face.
However, we can always do more than we think we can.
I can only imagine what is churning through Brad's mind at this point in the race with (only?) 20 or less miles to go. Despite all of Brad's intense physical preparation and his crew's strategic planning, it is up to Brad to determine if the end result is possible. After running more than 80 miles, it's a matter of digging down extra deep to find that reserve: that place where you can convince your brain to use the pain as a kind of sick and twisted fuel. While I can't imagine the depth of Brad's inner strength at this moment, I know that point where you are precariously hanging in the balance. I've been at the 16-mile mark of a marathon, and my body is screaming at me to stop. The last 10 miles seem intangible. Yet, somehow, that "I can. I will!" mentality overrides the physical desire to quit, and I can keep plugging away, until the goal of finishing is accomplished.
I remember doing long runs in high school. We would get to the first mile mark, and I would always exclaim: one down, nine to go. While this proclamation might sound negative, I said it with arrogant optimism. While we still had nine more miles to run, we were given lots of time to test our determination, laugh at each other's jokes, support each other physically and mentally, and eventually relish in our success of finishing our day's goal.
I would like to think that Brad optimistically thought after the first mile: one down, 99 to go.
Whether it's running a 100-mile race (or for the slightly less crazy person, a marathon) or fighting cancer, it's all about doing "more than you think you can." You will, like Jimmy Buffett said, have to have some "changes in latitudes" to navigate the rugged terrain and the overwhelming distance, and you have to make "changes in [your] attitudes"to negotiate the obstacles you will inevitably face.
However, we can always do more than we think we can.
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