Pain? To hell with it. Bring it on!

“I think I’m going to quit.  I don’t think I can finish” That was the text message that I had just sent to Janet, my then girlfriend.  I was dehydrated, hot, miserable, and hurting like hell.  People along the street were cheering and showing great enthusiasm but all I could do was force a smile and stumble past them.   The weather in Los Angeles in March can range from 60 degrees Fahrenheit and rainy to 90 degrees and sunshine.  Since the Los Angeles Marathon typically takes place in March, weather can make or break many of the participants.  Every year racers take a gamble, hoping for the best and making the best of how it turns out.  In 2015, it was 88 degrees and sunny.  Bummer.  For the last four miles, my legs were sore and cramping, I was hot, out of breath, and my progress was painfully slow.  I had just passed the mile twenty-three mark and hobbled barely another thirty feet before I was forced to stop and sit on the curb.  I tried to sooth the pain and cramps coursing through my legs by massaging them and stretching them out.  After a few minutes, just when I thought I had rid myself of this nuisance, I slowly stood back up.  A few seconds later I began moving, but the cramps returned with a vengeance and I only made it another hundred feet before I had to sit down again and repeat the process.  I still had three miles to go.  How was I ever going to make it to the finish line at this rate?  In an all-out attempt to suppress the pain I stood up and started sprinting but only made it another fifty feet before my legs screamed at me once again.  People were asking me if I was okay as I sat back down on the curb side.  I forced a smile and said I would be fine.  The pain was excruciating, and no matter how hard I tried to abate it, nothing worked.  This was my eighth marathon and the first one that I had ever considered quitting.  It was a desperate moment.  I sat there, utterly defeated, ready call it quits, completely incapable of covering another mile, let alone three.

 

You either learn to be successful in distance running or you never finish.  Unlike school where you receive a grade based on your quality of work, there is no partial credit given for making it to mile twenty-three of a marathon.  The rules are simple and clearly defined; If you reach the finish line, you succeed.  If you don’t, you fail.  In times like this you ask yourself the same question that you ask yourself when “life” happens.  When your relationship or marriage is troubled, when your job is not going well, or when you’re having family for friend issues: Do I stop, or do I continue?  Is this the end of the road in my relationship, marriage, or job? Or can I overcome this and keep it going?  I was asking myself that very question sitting there on the curb.  Like life, long distance races are filled with highs and lows.  There are euphoric moments of excitement along with miserable moments of despair.  Dealing with the fatigue and physical pain while running a race is, in many respects, just like tackling the day to day problems we face as human beings.  You can either succumb to the pain and let it beat you down and withdraw from the race, or you can stand up, let out a grunt, keep moving, and say “to hell with the pain.  Bring it on!”.  My mind was all but made up.  “twenty-three miles is pretty good” I thought to myself.  “Most people never even run this far.” I thought about what I would tell all the people who were tracking me.  How I would have to explain to them that I had to stop at mile twenty-three on account of my sore, cramping legs, heat exhaustion, and mental instability.  I thought about looking at the results on the website and seeing blank spaces when I looked my name up, indicating a DNF (Did Not Finish).  I only had three more miles to go, a distance I could normally cover easily.  But I was so spent, covering three miles seemed impossible.  My thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of my cell phone.  Janet had replied to my last text message where I told her how dismal things had become and how I wanted to quit.  “Come on keep going!  You can do it.  You’re almost there!”.  I pondered her response for a moment.  Do I stop, or do I continue?  Maybe I can do it.  Maybe instead of letting this race leave me in a heap on the curbside, I should grab it by the horns, endure through the pain, and gut out those last three miles.  “Pain is temporary, quitting lasts forever” as Lance Armstrong said. The emotional scars of not finishing the LA Marathon seemed more demoralizing than the temporary physical pain I was feeling.  That settled it.  “You’re right.  I’m going to do this shit!” I replied.  It was as if I were injected with a serum of hope.  Janet had provided the right words at the right time and the answer was now crystal clear.  The race would go on!  

I peeled myself up off the curb, slowly but surely, and began moving. “Don’t think about the pain” I told myself.  To my delight, the cramps had somewhat subsided.  I took deep breaths and limped down San Vicente boulevard, hobbling when I could.  It may not have been a pretty sight, but at least I was moving and that’s all that mattered.  People have finished marathons by literally crawling across the finish line.  It’s like Dean Karnazes says “Run when you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must.  Just keep moving forward and don’t ever give up”.  Approaching the aid station at mile twenty-four, I gulped down a couple of cups of Gatorade, poured a cup of water over my head, and continued down the road.  I made my way to the next aid station at mile twenty-five and about a half a mile later I saw Janet on the sidelines.  I immediately ran over and gave her a hug.  Seeing her when I was in such misery was extremely uplifting.  “You only have a half a mile to go!” she said.  “Go!  I’ll see you at the finish line”.  “Alright let’s do this!” I yelled.  And I began running as if I were on fresh legs.  The pain had numbed and that last mile seemed effortless at times.  I stumbled through the finish line and threw my arms in the air in celebration.  It was my slowest marathon yet but I overcame the pain, broke through a horrendous wall, and pressed on when I didn’t think I had the strength to even go another half a mile.  Despite my snail’s pace, I felt like a winner. 

    

I have had races before where similar situations had transpired and each time, when things looked grim, I decided to keep moving forward, coping with the pain as best as I could until I reached the finish line.  These moments have taught me valuable life lessons and have given me more mental strength that I ever thought I could have.  Like everyone else, I too face challenges in my relationship, my job, and my personal life.  Distance running has taught me that no matter how hard life can be, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel.  It all comes down to a simple choice to be made:  Do I stop, or do I continue?  If it weren’t for the pain and suffering I’ve endured during long distance races, I would never have had the mental strength to overcome the lows of my relationship, my career, and various other aspects of my life.  Whether it be my job, relationship, or a race, I have always chosen to keep moving forward, never taking the easy way out.  And what a difference it has made!   You can spend your whole life and a whole marathon trying to repress the pain and suffering or you can accept it, keep moving forward and fight back.  Life is a series of obstacles but if you overcome them, you are truly living life to the fullest and how it was meant to be lived.  So, live it up!