This
morning I awoke to an unpleasant realization.
I overslept. I had wanted to wake
up around 5:15am. 5:15am gives me enough
time to go for a morning run before opening the camp at 7am. It also allows me to watch the sunrise. I WANTED to see that sunrise. Last night I even thought about taking my
phone along so I could photograph it.
But now, with the clock reading 6:35am, all such ambitions were
lost. And what was worse in my mind was
that oversleeping meant that my morning run would now become a night run. I would wait until work was done for the day before
heading out into the cold, dark night to get my miles in.
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| When the storms creep in, the mountain can be both beautiful and frightening. |
This
made me think. Why does the night seem so much more foreboding than the
morning? 5:15am in December is still
dark, and with temperatures in the single digits, it is most certainly
cold. Both dark. Both Cold.
So why does the one seem so
much worse? Perhaps the answer lies not
in the moment itself, but in the one that is to come. Think about it. The morning can be just as dark and cold as
the night, but in the morning we know that change is coming. We know that a new day is dawning and in a
few minutes (or hours), the sun will be cresting upon the horizon. As the sun rises it brings forth light,
warmth, and a sense of hope. That sun is
a difference maker.
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| One of the greatest sights on the mountain is the warm glow of the cabin at the end of a cold, dark run, |
Like
the morning, the night is also a difference
maker, but in a different sort of way.
As the sun fades away and the night creeps in, things become darker and
colder. It’s the sort of difference
making that most of us would shy away from.
Partly because we don’t like the dark and cold, but also because we tend
to shy away from things with a seemingly negative trajectory. As humans we like to see things improve.
A change for the worse disturbs us.
It makes us want to run away, to flee the impending discomfort, to bury
our heads in the sand (or snow) and wait for daylight.
But,
there is a problem with this sort of mindset, for as dark and cold as the night
may be, there is still good in it. The
good is found in the bright shining stars and the silhouette of the
mountains. It is also found in the glow
of the moon that illuminates the trail and the distant city lights. And so we must understand that in the midst
of darkness, there is almost always a glimmer of hope. It reminds me of a rescue that I helped with
on Pikes Peak this year. It was a cold,
wintry night and the sun had long since set when I got the call about two lost
hikers out on the mountain. As I threw
on my gear and headed into the night I hoped that I would be able to find
them. The first few miles were easy as I
was able to stick to the main trail, but this was short lived. I soon found myself plunging off trail into a forest
littered with tall trees, big boulders, and deep snow. I blew my whistle and scanned the forest for
lights. After a short while I heard a
noise. I yelled and much to my
delight, my call was answered. I had
made audible contact!
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| I made multiple trips to the creek today to clear the ice from the water pipe. |
While audible contact is great, it
can also be a bit misleading as the human brain can sometimes have trouble
determining where sound is coming from.
Additionally, sound can be drowned out by other noises. Light, on the other hand, is much more
reliable. It doesn’t get drowned out or blown
around by wind. Instead it provides a constant
point of focus. Fortunately, shortly
after making audible contact, I spotted a bright light. With the light of the subjects in sight, I
had something to guide me. “Keep that
light on!” is what I yelled over, and over, and over as I trudged through snow
and scrambled across boulder fields. At
times the undulating terrain caused the light to slip from my sight, but if I
kept my eyes focused on where it had last appeared and pushed onward, it would
come back into view. Stride after stride
the light grew closer and the voices louder until there I was, standing
face-to-face with the lost souls. The
light never failed. I had found my way.
While the rescue is over and the
sun has returned to brighten the day, we are still faced with other kinds of
darkness. In the world of sports this
darkness has come in the form of performance enhancing drugs (PEDs). Although PEDs have been present in sports such
as baseball, cycling, and track and field for quite some time, their most
recent impacts on the world of MUT (Mountain-Ultra-Trail) running has caused
quite a stir. All I have to do these
days is log onto my facebook page and I will see a plethora of people talking
about doping as it relates to the world of MUT running. Should dopers be banned for life? Should Lance Armstrong be allowed to run
trail/ultra races? Should race directors
have drug testing? The questions and
debates go on and on. As an ultra runner
I am faced with the question of how to respond.
The options are many. I could
write thought provoking letters to race directors, WADA, and various other
organizations. I could boycott races
that don’t drug test. I could refuse to
run against known drug cheats. The list
goes on and on as to what I could do. The real question, however, is not what could
I do, but what will I do.
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| A lost art, hardly anyone seems to know what a gas light is. |
What I will do is this. I will continue running. I will continue training. I will work hard to be the best that I can
be. And if those drug cheats do step to
the line with me, I will race them…hard!
Will I win? I don’t know, but I
will compete as a clean athlete. I will
hold true to my values and I will strive to set a good example for those
following along, especially those younger than myself. For after all, at one point in my life I was the youngster looking up to the pros.
Growing up in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania
I loved following the Tour de France.
More specifically, I loved cheering for Floyd Landis who was a native of
Lancaster County. I remember the year he
“won”. I was working at Gene Forry’s
woodshop when my Mom called to tell me about Floyd’s “Miracle Day”, a day in
which he made up an insane amount of time.
I remember telling my co-worker that Landis had performed a miracle,
only to discover that he thought I meant that a different man named Landis had
fixed a piece of equipment in the woodshop (like many names, Landis is quite
common in Lancaster County).
Nonetheless, I loved rooting for Floyd, and I really wanted to believe
that the accusations were unfounded. But
as is too often the case, my hopes were crushed as we all learned that our
“hometown hero” was a bonafide cheat.
This my friends, is what I want to
end. I want young kids to have positive
role models to look up to. I want them
to be able to cheer for clean athletes who exemplify what it means to be hard
working, dedicated, and persistent. And
if we can’t get rid of all the dirty athletes, then I hope the clean athletes
can put their nose to the grindstone and beat them anyways. That way young children can watch a sporting
event and say “Hey, I don’t need drugs to be good! The clean athletes are winning anyways.” While this may seem a bit naïve and
far-fetched, I’m up for the challenge.
We can still try to clean up the sport and if we work hard enough, we just might succeed. But, let’s commit to
doing more than just making noise, noise that can be drowned out. Let us commit to being the light in the
darkness, a beacon of hope in a troubled time.
Because after all, the best way out of this mess might be for us to
light the way for those who follow in our tracks. Let’s LIGHT IT UP!
