Nickerblog
Feb 17, 2012
One Week
Anyone who follows me on Twitter or Instagram or Facebook (or all 3) has been inundated over the last several months, with photos of me running, biking, and training all over Los Angeles. This healthy living has somewhat taken over my life, and I have significantly changed my diet and lifestyle all in preparation for an event I've wanted to cross off of my list since I first heard about it: The Tough Mudder.
It's a 10-12 mile trail run with at least a dozen military style obstacles scattered throughout the length of the course: freezing cold water, 12 foot high walls, muddy drainage tubes, 10,000 volt live wires. It's tough, and it's scary. I've been preparing for it since December and it's now a week and a day away.
When I ran the LA Marathon back in 2004, I had never run more than three or four miles in a row before I started training. Because it was something I always wanted to do, I decided to commit to the goal of running L.A. and trained for six months leading up to it. It was a difficult process, filled with simple victories and constant testing of my resolve. I knew I was physically capable of getting there; I simply had to find the faith in my own commitment to see it through. It taught me a great deal about how goals are actually achieved. It helped me figure out my life. I discovered that hard work is the true key to success. One audition would not change my life; one moment wouldn't answer all of my career dreams; one lucky break doesn't mean anything without a lifetime of effort leading up to it.
Crossing the finish line is a glorious, life-changing event, but only because it represents all of the work, the sacrifices, and the difficult choices it took to get there. At that time in my life, it was a major shift to give up my Friday nights to be well rested for long training runs on Saturday. It was annoying to find time for 12-20 miles of running a week. My body was always sore. Months before the race, I wanted it to be over before I was even able to run half of the 26.2 miles finishing would require. I stuck with it and finished, and succeeding still helps me follow through on goals I set in my life.
The Tough Mudder has been my new mission for 2011-12. My diet is insane compared to what it was in my 20s and 30s. I've started to enjoy vegan food and have cut my beer intake dramatically (THAT ONE WAS HARD). I exercise every day: p90x2, biking, running, hiking, trail running, and some sort of organized race on the weekend. This coming weekend is the Bandit 6k in Simi Valley, which will be my last warm up race before the event it's all been leading up to.
At the end of the Tough Mudder, you get what seasoned Mudders consider the highly coveted "orange headband." It's a cheap trophy, but it will mean everything to me. At 40, I've been proving to myself that I can be better than I have ever been both mentally and physically. It's a goal that has helped me to become a better father, a better person, and someone I like a lot more than some of the versions of me I've been in the past.
One more week.
One more tough week.
Feb 2, 2012
http://www.sennamovie.com/
This documentary about the career of Formula 1 driver Ayrton Senna is on Netflix Instant right now. Highly recommended.
Jan 20, 2012
13.1
As I ran through the starting gate, I took inventory. Shoes felt good. The new shorts with spandex liner felt snug and secure in all the right spots. The iPhone on my arm was tight, with no obvious chafing points. The white, stock iPhone headphones probably weren't the best choice for a long run, but I could live with the jostling cord, I decided. Breathing was good. Air was cool. Knees felt pretty strong. I looked ahead at the pack of other fools running for fun, and tried not to think of them as competition. The urge to catch all of them was strong, but I maintained a steady, comfortable pace. Long road ahead. The adrenaline gave way to resolve, although nagging doubt seeped in and I began to wonder how I would do this for 13.1 miles. A half-marathon with very little long run training. I focused on a point in the road two steps ahead of me and let Travis Barker and DJ/AM drown out doubt with their music. One mile at a time. One breath at a time. One goal at a time.
It's not usually fun for me while it's happening. Half of running is having faith that the way it feels when it's over will make it all worth it. As I passed the first mile marker on Venice Boulevard, I settled into a rhythm that I hoped I could sustain for 12.1 more miles. I breathed. I drowned out doubt with a mantra:
"This guy is better. This guy is better. This guy is better. This guy is better."
Is he? Even the mantra requires faith.
Better than I was last year. Better than drinking every night. Better than being late to everything. Better than finding excuses not to be active. Better than being a fat dad. Better than resenting my own laziness. Better than wishing I was healthy. Better than ignoring problems. Better than eating crap. Better than dampening emotions with a vaporizer. Better than coasting through days. This guy is better. This life is better. It's a daily exercise in faith, and each run parallels my daily struggle with self-doubt and too much indulgence.
Mile two, three, four whisked past me, and I knew I would make it. At mile five, supporters and cheerleaders and music and a last look at the streets of Marina before a long stretch of beach. I ran faster, and I struggled with my iPhone strapped on my shoulder to take a picture of the moment. It was one of the magical moments during a run that you know you will remember. The breeze hits your face and your lungs fill up and you smile and enjoy the feeling, for perhaps only a minute. I fumbled my phone out of the armband and clicked a photo as I ran. Mile five. 8.1 to go.
Lots of times, stopping would be easier. The temptation to quit becomes intoxicating, and the thought must be nipped early before it begins to threaten the peace that comes from a steady heartbeat of footsteps against the ground. One step at a time. One mile at a time. One goal at a time.
I ran past a sewage treatment facility in El Segundo, and tore the top off a packet of GU. The jolt of carbohydrates and the small percentage of caffeine gave me just enough spark to round the corner for the last three miles of the race. I passed mile 10, again scrambling to wrest my phone from its spot on my shoulder, and snapped a photo of the mile I dreamed of passing for most of the race. From here, a mere 5k.
The last 3.1 miles were mostly downhill. Doubt gave way to relief, and though I was averaging a sluggish 9:45 mile, I felt like an Olympic athlete. I crossed the finish line, dreaming of the Michelob Ultra tent on the other side; realizing again that our goals can merely be things we decide to accomplish, and temporarily replacing my "This Guy is Better" mantra with an updated, post 13.1 mantra:
"Earn Your Beer."
I did. I will. This guy is better.
