Karnazes - Run!: 26.2 stories of blisters and bliss

RUN!

RUN!

26.2 STORIES OF BLISTERS AND BLISS

DEAN KARNAZES

First published in Great Britain in 2011

This paperback edition published in 2012

Copyright Dean Karnazes 2011

The moral right of Dean Karnazes to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

Every effort has been made to trace or contact all copyright holders. The publishers will be pleased to make good any omissions or rectify any mistakes brought to their attention at the earliest opportunity.

Allen & Unwin

c/o Atlantic Books

Ormond House

2627 Boswell Street

London WC1N 3JZ

Phone: 020 7269 1610

Fax: 020 7430 0916

Email: uk@allenandunwin.com

Web: www.atlantic-books.co.uk

Allen & Unwin

83 Alexander Street

Crows Nest NSW 2065

Australia

Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

Fax: (61 2) 9906 2218

Email: info@allenandunwin.com

Web: www.allenandunwin.com

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 1 74237 793 3

Printed in Great Britain by

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

To my lovely wife, Julie, thank you for faithfully putting up with me
for all these years. Weve had some fun, and were not done yet!

Contents

RUN ! is comprised of 26.2 short stories about running and about life. Why 26.2, you may ask? As you probably know, there are 26.2 miles in a marathon. Each story in this book is distinct and stands on its own, just as each mile of a marathon has its own unique personality. Together, the 26.2 miles of a marathon tell a complete story, just as the chapters of this book will coalesce to form a complete tale, one of blisters and bliss. But unlike a real marathon, this isnt going to hurt as much. So enjoy every step of the way!

Midway through the Western States100-Mile Endurance Run

When you pray, move your feet.

OLD AFRICAN PROVERB

THE HUMAN BODY was made to move. Everything about us was designed for locomotion, engineered for movement. Our modern world, however, invites just the opposite: idleness.

We go from our air-conditioned cars to the elevators of our climate-controlled buildings to our comfortable office chairs. Modern rationale equates comfort and conveniencethe total absence of pain and strugglewith happiness. I, along with a growing number of like-minded individuals, think that just the opposite may be true. Weve grown so comfortable, were miserable.

Personally, I never feel more alive than when Im in great pain, struggling to persevere against insurmountable odds and untold adversity. Hardship? Suffering? Bring it! Ive said it before and Ive come to believe it: Theres magic in misery.

I realize this notion runs contrary to the pervasive modern day sentiment. Some people will understand this mind-set; others will not. Returning from my daily run the other morning, I came upon my neighbor, out in his slippers collecting the morning paper. He looked at me in my running gear and asked, Doesnt running hurt? I thought about his question briefly. It does if youre doing it right, I said. He gazed at me quizzically, trying to make sense of a comment that seemed counterintuitive. Like I said, some people get this way of thinking, others dont.

Regardless of your slant, I hope you enjoy what you are about to read. Unlike most books by athletes, I wrote every word of this book myself... er, spoke every word of it myself. You see, in accordance with the premise of being built for movement, I wrote much of this book largely by dictating into the digital recorder on my smart phone while running. No sitting on my butt in front of a static computer here. This book was composed on the run.

My hope is that my true voice comes through. If nothing else, know that each passage was constructed with great pain, sweat, and struggle. As you might expect, I wouldnt want it any other way.

Now you wouldnt believe me if I told you, but I could run like the wind blows. From that day on, if I was ever going somewhere, I was running!

FORREST GUMP

HOOD TO COAST is a 197-mile twelve-person relay race. Why I was running it solo was for one reason and one reason only: Adventure!

Dear ol Mom and Dad were also along for the ride, as was tradition. Theyd joined me as my crew, supporting me on many such escapades. In fact, they looked forward to these outings as much as I did: the places wed go, the people wed meet along the way, the encounters wed haveit was all an exciting journey into the unknown.

Last night, during the first night of all-night running, wed passed by a house in the countryside only to be spotted by the owner who invited us in for some freshly picked berry pie. She was delightful and the pie was otherworldly delicious. It was after midnight.

Now, some twenty-four hours later, Mom lay strewn across the passenger seat of the crew vehicle, snoozing. After nearly two days of continuous running, I was feeling a bit groggy myself. Much to my delight, we came upon a twenty-four-hour convenience store. I desperately needed coffee and made a dash for the door. Dad always carried the cash since I was clad in running gear, so I was glad to see him pull in after me.

The gentleman behind the counter eyed us with suspicion, perhaps judging us against the height marks on the entrance doors that convenience stores use to ID criminals. We were the only people in the store. I immediately darted for the self-serve coffee section to prepare a cup of brew. My dad ambled toward the checkout register.

Along with the coffee, there were various flavored creamers. They had vanilla, hazelnut, chocolate mint, and a host of other delectable choices. I began concocting the ultimate cup of convenience store brew. My dad and the checkout clerk watched as I carefully crafted my little cup of paradise. Finally, Dad turned to the man and said, Hes been running for two days now. He started up at Mount Hood. The clerk didnt respond.

Hes trying to get to the coast, Dad went on. The clerk kept his eyes transfixed on me.

Doing it to celebrate his 40th birthday. It will take him about forty-five hours, my dad continued.

That did it; enough was enough. Go on, take your coffee! the clerk barked. Have it. Thats fine. Just go!

His sharp words sent my dad and me reeling. It took a moment to compute, but then I realized what was going on here. He thought we were beggars. I could imagine his mind working: A young guy comes in and pours himself a presumptive cup of coffee, stalling so that the old guy can deliver a fancifully inventive pitch to get the goods for free.

My dad recognized the clerks misunderstanding as well. Oh no, he said, I was just telling you this to let you know, thats all.

Go! the man continued. Get out! Take your coffee and leave.

Look, my dad said, pulling a five-dollar bill out of his pocket, we had every intention of paying you.