michael's reasons

April 22nd, 2007 will represent a destination, three separate paths coming together on the streets of London. My running start line, the beginning of my road, came just after high school.

Attending University is supposed to be greater then the sum of its parts. It was my first year; September was coming to a close with leaves falling silently onto the chip trails, the warmth of the summer sun fading. I can vividly remember my first run as if it was yesterday. I was sporting navy blue varsity jogging pants, the one and only time I wore them running, and my favourite faded grey cotton T-shirt. The first kilometer of a 4-k loop felt ridiculously long, maybe a fraternity prank, and finishing the circuit brought me back to my dorm room with my hands on my knees, red-faced, crushed.

For the remainder of that year, I periodically retraced those first steps, gaining new respect for Olympic athletes. I recall thinking, maybe, maybe one day when I’m settled in a career and the kids are at school, maybe then I’ll train for a 10-k race.

Over the past 16 years, my life has led me down paths only dreamed: graduating, becoming a Chartered Accountant and, most recently, getting engaged. But, when
looking back, one thing remained constant: my desire to run. My first race, in 1993, was the University of Victoria 10-k where, if memory serves correctly, I clocked 46’ and change. Since that day, I’ve completed numerous races, enjoyed the distraction of triathlon for several years and even threw down my gauntlet at the odd ultramarathon.

Though during that time I did participate in a couple of marathons, the distance seemed somehow longer, so daunting that merely finishing was always a question mark. Years have passed, 12 since my first marathon, and I now find myself on the backside of the thirtysomethings, looking behind to see if I’m on the way up or the way down. I know I have yet to reach the crest of the hill, but with my PBs for 5-k (17:04) and 10-k (34:18) having both been set in the spring of 1997, I find myself wondering when my chances for faster times will disappear beneath a passed horizon.

With those thoughts in mind, and after listening to Jim recount his tale of the 2005 Ottawa marathon, which sounded more like a chess match than the running time trials I participated in, I set a new goal for myself. In the years to come, and before reaching my running acme, I wanted to see how fast I could run 26.2 miles. No longer was I simply racing to finish – that was a given – I now wanted to race those 26.2 miles, coming down the finishing chute knowing I’d spent every ounce of energy, all my determination and willpower gone, making my final move… checkmate.

A year and a half and two marathons later, some might say I’ve already reached an admirable personal zenith; in early December of this year I ran 2:40:19 at the California International Marathon. But I want more. I want to chase momentum uphill, to see the clock above the finish line read 2:3X. I want to know there’s nothing left, that there are no further resources to mine, that I’ve maximized my potential.

Only then will I be ready – perhaps – to run another road.