Sweet Agony

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I never knew his name. I caught him at mile 5 of a 10K sometime in 1980, in my second year of running. We’d just rounded a corner, and someone had told me I was in 10th place – a unique experience for me. I also knew that at least six of the people ahead of me weren’t in my age group. If I could catch the mysterious stranger, I could finish no worse than third.

I'd already covered the fastest five miles of my life. If I could just get this one guy, I could win my first age-group medal.

There were three of us in a fairly tight pack: me, the stranger, and a 13 year old who would go on to run well in high school and college. For about 800 meters, I pressed the pace from behind. I'd speed up, draw a half step off the shoulder of the guy in front, and watch him speed up. Then we'd play this game again, each time ratcheting up the pace. 

Somewhere in there, the 13 year old dropped off. Then, with about 800 meters to go, the positions reversed. I was now the one in the lead, and each time the other guy closed to a half-step gap, I'd pick it up a bit: an endless yo-yo, with me pulling the string, and him reeling it back in. Mile six appeared, and he was still with me.

And then, suddenly, he wasn't. 

I didn't dare look back. Half the art of these things is persuading people you're not afraid of them. Instead, I did my best to kick, ultimately shaving more than a minute off my PR. And as it turned out, we'd been dueling not just for a medal, but for first in our age group.

"Sweet" barely begins to describe it. 

But so, of course, does "agonizing."

Since then, I've wondered what it is that such duels teach and why, much as I dread them, I know I won't disengage. Maybe it's simply to prove I'm not the wimp my high school PE teacher used to make me think I was. Yeah, I didn't like football. But put me in a test of wills in which I have even a modicum of a chance and while I might get beaten, I won't surrender.

Maybe it's simply because this is what I suspect the elites do. 

Or maybe it's something more primal. There is something chaseable out there in front of you (or something mean and hungry behind you). You can be friends later. Right now, it's primordial life stripped to its basics. Run! Chase! Flee! 

But it's also primordial life with a brain. A sudden sprint won't do it. You have to hoard your resources, doling them out in the most efficient manner. The slightest botch and you can go from hunter to hunted and then to road kill. It's muscles, brains, patience and boldness all stirred into a pot that only comes to perfection a few times in a lifetime.

And somehow, when it's over, it's never the pain I remember. It's the surges, answers, and repeat surges. It's racing your shadow and discovering that even if you can't break away, you'll remember every step for the rest of your life. It's discovering that you don't have to be fast to have such an experience. It's being totally, fully, wondrously alive - even as you feel you're dying. 

It's thumbing your nose at everything you thought you couldn't do. 

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