The Run of My Life

Putting in the Miles that Matter

God has created lands with lakes and rivers for man to live, and the desert so that he can find his soul.

– Tuareg Proverb

The Badwater ultramarathon. A 135-mile odyssey through the deserts and mountains of California that takes place each year in July. Temperatures regularly top 120 degrees as runners traverse Mars-like landscapes and climb over 14,000’ of cumulative vertical ascent to reach the finish line on Mt. Whitney. In the ultra-running community, Badwater is touted as the “world’s toughest footrace”. Justifiably so, as more people have climbed Mt. Everest than stood at the finish line of the Badwater 135.

I finished Badwater. And I agree, it is tough. But it is not the toughest run I've ever done...

Any time you embark on an adventure, you inevitably spend time in self-assessment. You take stock of your “inner supplies”: Do I have what it takes physically, mentally, and spiritually? Will I keep my virtue intact or choose circumstance over character? Will I honor those who have come before me? Through honest self-awareness, you discover the delta between who you are now and who you need to be to reach the finish line with your head held high.

If you pick a worthy challenge, you won’t have everything you need, and the delta will stand like a mountain before you. Daring you to proceed.

At the foot of the mountain, we are faced with truths:

• You must pay the toll on the path of growth and transformation.

• The friction of change, the unyielding pressure required of adaptation are inescapable.

• As much as we might try, no hack, technology, pill, or influencer’s video can absolve us from the price we must pay.

For some, this is a catalyst for action. For others, a return to their comfort zone and a mountain unclimbed.

For me, Badwater was a proving ground, a test so to speak, for my character. It was a whetstone to sharpen my ability to live by my values despite any external challenge. Physically, I had to get stronger. Mentally, I had to have singular focus. Spiritually, well spiritually, I was still seeking. Either way, I set out to climb my mountain.

My training routine was fairly simple: run, recover, run, repeat. With three young kids, a full-time job, and a never-ending chore list, I had to be disciplined. My typical training routine looked like this:

• Wake up at 4:40, get in 5-mile run

• Cook the kids breakfast and off to school

• Go to work

• Lunch break for another 4-5 mile run

• Back to work

• Dinner with family

• Kids to bed

• Stretch and in bed by 9.

• On Saturdays I’d try to get out for a longer run of 15-20 miles. Sundays are family time.

To prepare for the heat, I ran in my black sweatshirt with the hood over my head listening to As A Man Thinketh by James Allen. It was common to lose 5 lbs. of water weight, or more, on longer runs. I absolutely loved it. I felt alive.

Author’s Note: Running in south Alabama with a black sweatshirt in the middle of summer gets you plenty of incredulous stares as people drive by. I’m sure more than one person thought, “FOX News was right, the crazy Californians are moving in.”

After a few weeks, the routine becomes normalized and the path up the mountain, though challenging, pays off. I did not deviate from my plan at all. I was physically lean and strong. I was mentally focused. But spiritually, I was about to learn a lesson from my six-year-old son.

It was lunch time on an excessively hot day. I was excited to get out there and train. I had my water topped off, GPS watch tracking, and my trusted sweatshirt on. I was already sweating as I sat on the porch to lace up my shoes when my son, Summit, came outside.

His next words would prove more challenging than anything I encountered running 135 miles through the desert.

“Hey Dad, can I go on a run with you?”

The spiritual challenge that I anticipated would happen in Death Valley, instead played out right there on my front porch. The image of me kneeling on a mountain top in the desert like I was in the movie Platoon, experiencing some mystical, spiritual awakening, was as irrelevant as yesterday's Instabooktok post. In its place was Life, in the form of my beautiful son, challenging me to be my best self. He was giving me the opportunity to be the person now I thought the desert would make me into.

The funny thing is, we usually know what the right path is before the ego mounts its argument. In the four seconds it took me to respond, I got the best of arguments from my ego:

“WHAT!! SKIP THE RUN, NO WAY! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? YOU ARE TRAINING FOR BADWATER, MAN. IF YOU SKIP THIS RUN, YOU’LL BE FAT AND OUT OF SHAPE AGAIN. YOU’LL BE A TURD! GET GOING. TELL HIM YOU CAN GO LATER!”

The fact that it took me four seconds instead of one to say, “Sure, Son. Go get your shoes.”, is the spiritual mountain I have yet to climb. However, the fact that I chose the right path, is a sign that I accepted the challenge. I am grateful I did. I reaffirmed to myself that “Beloved Father” belonged on my tombstone more than “Badwater Finisher”.

In that moment, I was reminded of what Viktor Frankl told us in Man’s Search for Meaning:

“It did not really matter what we expected from life, but rather what life expected from us. We needed to stop asking about the meaning of life, and instead to think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life—daily and hourly. Our answer must consist, not in talk and meditation, but in right action and in right conduct.”

I’m pretty sure we made it about ¼ of a mile before the run turned into a walk and the walk turned into a talk. A father and son talk about trees, Legos, and what air is made of. This was the type of training I needed: the training to be present. It was a life lesson my six-year-old son taught me in one mile. It was the best training run I’ve ever been on.

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This is not meant to be a virtue signal beaming from an imaginary place in the social media universe. I try to be a present father but sometimes I’m distant and unable to connect. I’ve told my kids “No.” and gone on runs as well. As much as I try not to, I’m sure I let them down.

I never quit trying though. Good or bad, I know I am an example to them. How good or how bad? Is up to the choices I make. That's all the motivation I need.

I want my footsteps worthy enough to be followed.

Consider this a virtue reminder. Life calls to all of us in every moment. It is ONLY within those moments that we can choose to be the person we want represented on our tombstone.

Who are you choosing to be?