I completed my fourth consecutive day of 5K (3.1 miles) runs, with a current daily run streak at 3,412 and counting. According to the rules of the U.S.S.R.A. (United States Streak Running Association www.runeveryday.com), I have to run at least a mile everyday for it to count. “5K a day” has a certain ring to it, so this has been my daily goal of late, trying to maintain streaks within the streak. We returned from New York mid-week, so I only had limited time to run in the morning before the flight and had to drop-back to that one mile minimum. Without any travel plans for a few weeks, I should be able to maintain the “5K a day” standard for awhile. This morning was the Dick Inukai (Dick’s Auto Group) fundraiser and my time was predictably “old man” slow, just under 11 minutes per mile and in 43rd place out of 153 finishers. There were only 8 people of my age 66 or older, and I smoked them all with my blistering geriatric pace. A 17-year old male won the race, while I’ll unceremoniously claim the over-65  title. I wasn’t even close to winning the 55+ medal, but those extra 11 years have slowed me down at least two minutes a mile. 

It’s honestly embarrassing to run that slow, but at this age I’m lucky to be able to run at all. I spent some time this week watching a couple different running documentaries, hoping for some inspiration. I had intended to run another marathon thinking that perhaps I could qualify for Boston, but I’m no longer willing to invest the time. I trained hard a year ago in anticipation of the Hood to Coast, but the unappetizing combination of running, sleeping outside, and being cramped in a van is not worth a repeat effort. I needed an injection of enthusiasm so the first movie that I watched was Barkley Marathona, a grueling 100+ mile run through Frozen Head State Park in Tennessee. It’s limited to forty runners who each receive a “letter of condolence” if they are selected to participate. There is not a course map, so I would certainly get lost in the woods.

Being “direction-ally challenged” has haunted me since I was a little kid. I got lost just trying to go around the block at my grandparent’s house. Everyone was waiting for me to return to starting point A, but somehow I managed to veer off-course during this simple navigation maneuver. In modern times, Siri and Google Maps both help, but there’s no signal in the mountains of Tennessee, as well as no directional signs, or spray-painted markings on the pavement like there were guiding today’s race-runners.  I’ve been lost many times while running in unfamiliar territory, including Amsterdam a few months ago. (See Post #464). I even got lost on my regular running route during a snow storm a couple of years ago and had to go against my will and ask for help with directions, another of my many hang-ups. Help would be hard to find in the hills where the only human inhabitants are probably moonshiners and prison escapees. As a result, I won’t be doing the required essay to enter this torturous event, but I certainly admired those few who were somehow able to finish. 

I also watched Fair Chase about a team of runners that unsuccessfully tried to run down an antelope, as primitive hunters once used to do. Next, I viewed The Long Green Line about legendary cross-country coach Joe Newton and his quest to win a 25th Illinois State Championship, and the story of Jim Tracy another great track coach battling Lou Gehrig’s disease in the movie, Running for Jim. These were all about people who loved to run and thrived on competition. I have never loved running, as it continues to be a daily chore, and have never been good at it. However, there is always a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment with each day that I somehow get out there and complete that first mile, preserving “The Streak.”