Running is a Relief. And an escape.
Saddled with three kids under the age of eight and a wife with a demanding corporate job, I found myself spiraling downward four years ago. Not only did I have a full-time job of my own, but I also had to shuttle the kids to and from the many after school events and keep up with the housework and grocery shopping. Oh--and did I mention feed everybody? My wife was loving and caring, but she had neither the time nor the energy to offer much assistance..
I needed something different. Something to take my mind away from the stresses of home and work. Something to refocus my energies and channel my thoughts. And that's when I discovered the freedom of endurance running.
At first, long jogs were a means to reduce stress through exhaustive physical exertion. I left the house after bedtime and ran the darkened streets, working up a heavy sweat. After returning home, I would strip down naked and jump into the pool. The contrast of inner burning heat and the outer cooling chill enlivened me. And the best thing: The entire time (usually a full hour) I was alone. No expectations. No demands. No requests. Those late-night runs were blissful, relaxing pleasures.
But, as one who enjoys challenges, I found myself wanting more. I became obsessed with the desire to run both farther and faster. I had mastered the five-mile, fifty minute run--but so what? It became dull the moment that I realized that it posed no difficulty. I would have to do better. I pushed myself towards nine-minute miles and set a goal to one-day average eight over longer distances.
To test myself against others, I began to enter local 10K and 20K races. (They tended to run early weekday mornings when my wife could watch the children). I never placed high in my age group, but I was quite pleased with my performance, especially considering that I had never been a trained runner. Soon I yearned for the middle-age ultimate: The sub 4:00-hour marathon. (For those of you who are serious runners: Hey, I know human beings can go a lot faster. But that time's pretty awesome for a former run-of-the-mill 39-year-old.)
With my wife's support, I joined a local marathon-training group that operated out of an athletic shoe store. Over six months, I trained with like-minded folks. The longer runs grew increasingly difficult, but peer camaraderie melted time away on the trails.
Our group of 20 met each Saturday morning at 5:30 A.M. Over two months of gentle increases, we reached a base run of 12 miles; thereafter, we slowly added miles every other week, maxing out at 22 (the other week was always the base miles). I know this sounds impossible for those who have never run long distances. I can only say that the human body is an amazing mechanism. It can learn to do whatever we desire. With careful instruction and preparation, the body can adapt to the most extreme challenges.
The longer runs took up to four hours. Though our group did tend to spread out over a half a mile, most of us still had an opportunity to chat with each other. Over time I realized that we all shared one thing in common: We were trying to escape something.
For some, it was advancing age. For others, excessive responsibilities, or professional disappointment, or a failed relationship, or increasing body weight.... There was always something. It was rarely spoken directly, but it was inevitably made clear during conversation in the early morning hours. I felt comfortable in this group. I ran up and down the line each Saturday, catching up with everyone, sharing the highlights and low-lights of my week.
Most of the other runners were considerably younger than myself. This didn't bother me at all. In fact, I enjoyed hearing about their lives. It reminded me of my own past, my life before marriage and children. A core group had become quite friendly with each other and socialized outside of our training runs. The rest of us were always invited, but I could rarely make it. (Wednesday happy hour is difficult when you need to pick three kids up after work and get one of them to baseball practice and the other to piano lessons--only to circle back to pick them both up again in 60 minutes.)
Time passed and the marathon came. I felt great throughout my training and--one the day of the big event--ran effortlessly. My final time of 3:41:23 didn't put me anywhere near the top runners of my age group, but I beat my original goal by nearly 20 minutes and average about 8:30 per mile.
Most members of my group did even better (I was one of only a few first-timers). Jon, our leader, ran 2:58:30. Not world class, but a worthy achievement.
As we sat around after the race drinking the free beer provided by the Shiner Brewery, we lamented that the season was over. Most pledged to return in the fall for next year's sponsored training. But some weren't quite ready to let it go yet.
Marybeth, one of the younger single girls, suggested that we have an end-of-season celebration. With the summer months approaching, she suggested tubing on the Patawanee Creek, which runs through North Texas into the Red River.
"We have to!" she implored. "We can haul coolers with us, lounge under the sun, spend time together. And it's beautiful and remote. I bet we have the creek to ourselves! I grew up near there and I know just where to go!"
It didn't happen right away, but after much Facebook messaging, Marybeth's idea became reality. The group set a Saturday afternoon float date. Even though most of us had to travel an hour's distance, twelve of twenty group members confirmed.
I was a "No." It was Saturday. I had housework and my usual shuttling duties. I didn't even ask my wife. But when the event came up later in casual conversation, I was shocked when she said, "Well, did you want to go?"
I didn't say, "Hell, yes!" but that was my immediate sentiment. I love the great outdoors. and a slow tubing down a river is a favorite of mine--although regrettably an activity I've done rarely since college.
We worked out the details, and I changed my reply to "yes."
Now, I am content in my marriage, but that does not mean "happily ever after." To be sure, I can't complain: I have a loving wife with an exceptional character. She is pure goodness through and through. But....physically, she let herself go 13 years ago. Whereas I will challenge my body on a daily basis, she allows hers an eternal rest.
And it shows.
I guess I must admit that this adds a hot spot in our marriage (the wrong kind). I want to perfect my physical body for my lover. It bothers me that she won't make such an effort for me. So...that attractive girl I married is no longer my wife.
And, because of it, I admit that my eye does wander, and I yearn for the physical companionship of other women.
Which is why the thought of spending a day on the river, surrounded by young attractive girls with tight runner's bodies in tiny swimsuits, was extra appealing. (I would lie if I didn't admit that part of the joy of athletic training is spending time with women who are exceptionally physically fit.
On the day of, I arrived at the drop-in site on time and quickly busied myself arranging my tube and supplies. Jon had rigged two tubes for hauling food and beverages. One was attached to his outfit and the other to Marybeth's. I added my items to their coolers. Then, I took off my shirt, threw it in the back of my truck, and oiled myself up. (You only need to live in Texas for a week to learn the importance of suntan lotion.) Lastly, after consulting with Jon, I handed my car keys over to group-mates Alex and Bill, who were driving several cars down to the pick-up site.
While we waited for them to return, I listened in on a few conversations. I must admit that I wasn't very talkative. But, behind my dark sunglasses, my eyes were very active.
Of course the women in my training group had fantastic bodies. Running 30+ miles most weeks eliminates fat and hardens muscles. Though I had seen all the women many times in tight shorts--and a few in bra tops--I had never seen them like this: Sporting skin-tight shorts that revealed all their curves. My eyes drank in the sights. They were my friends, and I had no sexual desires for any of them, but that doesn't mean I couldn't appreciate the beauty of the human body.
But,--dare I say, none of them were my kind of woman?
Thin. Tight. Zero fat. Muscular. But not for me.
I know that there are men that couldn't possibly understand such feelings. So be it. There I stood at the drop-in, surrounding by my female running mates in their skin-tight swimsuits. Nine women. Eighteen tight-butt cheeks. Firm abs, hard thighs, and taunt arms....
