Never Quit

I think I made a big mistake running today. Its 110 degrees. I'm used to running in that. I have been in a very cold air conditioned building for five hours, mostly sitting before I ran. Okay I have done that many times as well. I have only had three 220 calorie bars to eat all day. Not very smart. I forgot my hat, my sunglasses, blister shield, my lip balm and had only a cotton shirt. All big obsticales but I had my A-game shoes, good shorts, a water belt, my iPod and my Halo, so I thought I could at least pull it out. However I had a run I physically don't ever want to repeat.

I have described running in the Phoenix heat before. The tongue dries up and swells a bit. The throat gets raw and dry. The lips dry out, then get that 'dry' stickiness covering them. The sun..well the sun is unrelenting. It beats upon you like a physical thing, blinding, stinging, pulsing.

This was my routine office route. It is a benchmark of exactly 30 minutes to run. It has a nice hill with 60 feet of elevation over a short 1/3 of a mile as a climax before a short 1/3 mile downhill finish. 60 feet dosen't sound like much even to me, but its not easy to do it. At the 60% done point is a 'bug out' route that gets me back to the office in 3 minutes.

I was in so much physical pain from the sun blinding me, my calves cramping, my dry cracked lips and raw throat that I stumbled upon the bug out route and as I ran past it I decided to Bug Out. I turned around and stopped.

I had never used the Bug Out route, this would be a defeat. I tried licking my lips but it felt like sandpaper over barbwire. I squirted water in my mouth and the formally ice cold water was shower hot. My mouth revolted. The part of tongue that touched water was thankful. The throat however did not understand what was occuring and spasmed.

The distance to the Bug Out route was only thirty feet, I covered half that and felt ashamed. I don't like to quit. I have suffered many a traumatic result from ignoring my physical responses and again I stubbornly ignored my rational mind, telling me I was going to that place I had been to in the past and where the cost had been to much to return. I refused to quit. I turned around again and pushed my failing body forward, ever forward to the hill, oh lord the hill I had forgotten and I ran up the hill and turned right and ran up the second part of the hill. I was slow, so painfully slow moving up that hill. I told myself that I would be faster if I walked. I also told myself that this was the final mile of my tri this weekend, of Soma half IM, of Wildflower...of Ironman Flordia.

As I was dragging myself up the hill, I flashed a memory to what a Drill Instructor told me many, many times, "Mann, there's two ways your leaving Officier Candidate School, smart or strong; and your going to be the strongest motherf-er in this class. NOW BEAT YOUR FACE AND GIVE ME 100 PUSH UPS, NOW MANN, NOW" I did actually finish in the top 10% academically and was the only one in my class to recieve perfect marks for my field operations, but I also did three times the flutter kicks and push ups as anyone else. I think about OCS right now, because I could have quit at any time. It would have been easy, we graduated 12 people out of 85 (14%). For fun the cadre, would print out a Drop On Request form and force me to read it (scream it) as loud as I could so the whole base could hear it and each time after I read it they would tell me to sign it. I would refuse and they would drop me or run me or some other terrible physical torture, over and over and over again. Sometimes 50 times a day. In all my class, I was the only one the cadre did this too. Right now I still shake and shudder at the humilations I endured during those readings.

So on days like this I think about how easy it would have been to quit OCS, or how easy it would have been to not push myself to walk again or to learn to read again after my car accident and the resulting amnesia. How simple to have the mentality of a third grader for the rest of my life like the doctors told my parents for months as I recovered, forever living with them and on disability without a care.

But I forced myself to walk and then to run. I went from no short term memory to almost photographic. From a 16 year old with no memory of anything or anyone in his past to a great husband and a decent father. The point is never give up. Giving up is easy. There is always people in your life or in your mind waiting, wanting, you to give up. Find that spark inside you that remembers why you started in the first place, what the goal is and goals aren't easy or we would all be financially rich and physically ripped. I guess I have subconsciously trained myself to never give up, to always find a way to. Today wasn't pretty but I finished my run +2:46 over 30 minutes.