Everything that can break in our lives usually does.

That's a good thing. When we break something it shows us that it was fragile or weak and that we need to replace or rebuild it. We usually replace or rebuild it with something much stronger so as to keep from breaking it again. Such is life: a series of breakings and fixings until we are rebuilt. Until we become resilient and flexible. Until we become strong. Until we become perfect.

The process is not easy. It takes calculated, daily effort and a profound attention to detail. It takes careful replacement of each individual piece until we have finally picked up all the pieces and put them back together. We get to know each piece of ourselves, and in the process we get to know ourselves on a deeper level. A level that will help us prevent being broken in that way ever again.

There are many forces that have supported me as I've picked up the pieces of what's been broken. The pieces of broken pride, a broken heart, a broken family, a broken will, a broken spirit and a broken life. One of these forces in particular is my running shoes.

The metaphor is quite poetic, really. The only support you get while running is from your shoes. They've supported me through every foot-fall and every stride, but they've also supported me on a much more emotionally personal level. Whenever things got too much to handle and whenever the pieces seemed to small to put back together, I would run. I would leave my house and take to the street as fast as I could, hoping to outrun whatever was plaguing me, hoping to wear it out. As I ran I was supported by those shoes. I was able to piece things back together, because, as you run, everything melts away. Through pain and sweat and dirt and blood, the excess of life is removed and you are left with a pure form of you. A template upon which to start rebuilding. Slowly the pieces are made more manageable and can be put back together until you are whole again. Then you are made stronger. Then you are made to overcome anything.

That is why I love to run. I get to know myself. Physical strength is negligible compared to the vast capacities of emotional, mental and spiritual strength gained from understanding who I really am.

And that is why I can never stop running.

So the race is upon me. After two years of injury, surgery recovery, illness and life changes, I'm finally back at the Teton Half. I'm nervous! The Teton Dam Half Marathon is one of the hardest races I've ever run. The first few miles are scenic and quaint. Wrapping through local neighborhoods, passing old cemeteries, with a view of the Tetons in the distance. The middle 8 are what kill me. Strait lines through farm land. A steady incline for 2.5 of those miles. It's a true test of mental stamina.

There is no feeling like crossing that finish line, though. Whether your first or last, you still cross and join with the rest of the runners who do so. You win no matter what you place, because you still put 13.1 miles behind you. You still accomplish what many cannot. You change who you are. One step closer to who you want to be.

Last night I ran a spectacular 8 miles. It was actually kind of a miracle because I've been incredibly ill lately, but I got the itch to run, so i scratched it.

I feel like we learn so much on our daily runs. They parallel our lives so perfectly. There were times last night when I felt absolutely confident in my abilities, as if I could run forever. I ran passed a large field filled with horses and as soon as they were aware of my presence, they began to run along side me. They got to the end of their fence and their run ended, but mine continued. I sang songs and laughed and felt completely free. Other times when the wind shifted or a hill materialized,  my mind primarily focused on putting one foot in front of the other. I forgot about running forever and focused on just running now and enduring. I feel like I live a whole lifetime out there. There is such a vast spectrum of emotions felt on each and every run. Physical growth is just secondary to the mental and spiritual growth that takes place as we push ourselves to the very limit, and then continue to push. Our thoughts become clear. Our purpose becomes sure. Our potential is illuminated. And our direction becomes unshaken.

Every run is a new lesson learned.
Every run is another life lived.

When I run my life makes sense. With every heel-strike the outer shell of worries and cares of life are broken down and torn away until all that remains is me: more polished, more refined. I am often enveloped by darkness,  beaten by rain and held in the clutches of a mighty wind. That is when the refining process slips into it's highest level. At this climax of difficulty I find myself unable to continue so I set a goal to reach in the distance. A telephone pole. A mailbox. A turn in the road. Upon reaching that goal I set a further one until I've completed my run.

Running is instant improvement. Whether you're running a 5k or an Ultramarathon. Whether you're running one mile or 15, it will always be painful. It will always push you. But the moment you head out the door to run      is the moment you begin closing the gap between the person you were and the person you have the potential to become.


I wish there was some kind of job I could get where I just went around telling everyone the benefits of running. It changes lives.

Cool runnings everyone!

Things I love about running today:

Waving to other runners. The instant bond that forms because we're enduring the same misery and experiencing the same triumph.

The only footprints in the snow i see on my way back are the footprints i made on my way out.

Hills. They remind me that I'm a living creature and definately a breathing creature.

When a blister breaks on the final mile or two of a long run. One last test to get through.

Meeting with some unfortunate frigid puddles of water and keeping them in my shoe for 5 miles.