Month: September 2017

“Today, we die a little.”

These famous words were spoken by legendary runner, Emil Zatopek on the starting line of the Olympic marathon in Melbourne in 1956. The temperature was somewhere around 90 degrees Fahrenheit and he was well aware that the next 2 hours and something minutes would be filled with nothing short of extreme physical agony.

I recently finished reading Zatopek’s inspiring biography written by Richard Askwith, where I learned of some of the most inspiring stories of one of the greatest runners of all time. Emil Zatopek did not just revolutionize the sport of distance running, he reinvented it. He rewrote the record books and redrew the boundaries of endurance, redefining the idea of what was humanly possible. At the 1952 Helsinki Olympics he won the triple crown, winning gold medals in the 5k, 10k, and the marathon, a feat that to this day has never been achieved again. In his athletic career, he won five Olympic medals, set 18 world records, and went undefeated in the 10k for six years. While all of these athletic accomplishments are remarkable, they are not the main reason why he has become my new favorite runner. It was his infectiously cheerful and generous personality that ultimately won me over. I believe it is not what he did that made him a true hero, it is how he did it.

Zatopek grew up as a poor carpenter’s son in Moravia, who built himself up through sheer hard work and determination to be one of the most incredible athletes the world has ever seen. Emil’s training principles were revolutionary in the sense that it took over a decade before sports scientists were able to define the physiological principles underlying his approach to interval training. The most important part of Emil’s formula was the effort he put in. Anyone can do interval sessions; the difficult thing is doing them as Emil did them. He is known to have done 80-100 fast 400 meter laps a day! He would run in heavy boots through thick snow, he would hold his breath until he passed out, and he would run in a bath full of laundry for two hours. Zatopek trained himself to be tough in mind as well as body. He said,

“When a person trains once, nothing happens. When a person forces himself to do a thing a hundred or a thousand times, he develops in ways more than physical. Willpower is no longer a problem.”

He would run each lap to the genuine limit of his endurance, without surrendering to the instinct (that we always want to cling to) to keep a little left in reserve. He believed that training was a science, but he brought to it an intense subjectivity- focusing not on the stopwatch, but on what it felt like at the limits of endurance, and learning how to manipulate those limits. Simply said, “When you can’t keep going, go faster.”

It is impossible to capture all of Zatopek’s greatness in such a short blog post. I haven’t even begin to touch upon the subject of Emil as a political figure who took a stand against the Soviet tanks that invaded his native Czechoslovakia in 1968. His bravery led to him spending his later years in isolation as an itinerant laborer, far from his home and his beloved wife. While the aftermath of his courageous stand in 1968 led to some of his loneliest years, Zatopek was not a man who could easily be broken.

The thing that excited people most about Zatopek was his humanity. People spoke of his warmth, his sportsmanship, and his spontaneous generosity. He shared his training secrets with anyone who asked- and in mid-race would offer words of encouragement to rivals, or take the lead when it was not in his best interest to do so, simply out of sportsmanship. His most famous act of generosity was in 1966 when he gave one of his gold medals to Australian distance runner, Ron Clarke- the greatest distance runner to never win a gold of his own.

Zatopek will always be remembered as a true hero. His fellow Olympians worshipped him, ordinary people were inspired by him, and the world became a better place because of him. In 1952 as Zatopek approached the Olympic arena in Helsinki, nearly 70,000 people roared in unison: ‘Za-to-pek! Za-to-pek! Za-to-pek!’ He was about to make history by winning his third gold medal of the games, in addition to winning the first marathon he had ever run. This became a true Olympic moment; a moment where people from so many different nations came together to cheer on one man in a joyous celebration of sporting achievement.

The great Australian, Ron Clarke, said it best,

“There is not, and never was, a greater man than Emil Zatopek.”

Yesterday I ran 5 miles (the farthest I have been allowed to run since that fateful day in May when I got diagnosed with a sacral stress fracture). And this week, I am allowed to bring my mileage up to 20. This is huge! I should be overjoyed! But instead, I have this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I will never get back to where I once was. This being my first real injury, I’m a newbie at handling the ‘return to running’ aspect, and selfishly, instead of feeling grateful, I am struggling to stop obsessing about how much fitness I feel that I have lost. Throughout these last (LONG) four months of not running, I have had a constant fear in the back of my mind that all my hard-earned fitness I worked so hard for is slowly melting away. Every morning as I scroll through social media and see so many people running farther and faster, it is hard not to feel depressed. It’s not that I want other people to fail, but it’s as if I have forgotten what those feelings of euphoria feel like and I am overwhelmed by wanting to feel it again.

While I was in the thick of my injury, I would motivate myself during my cross-training workouts by envisioning my return to running. I knew it would be a struggle, but I thought about how I would appreciate every single step and how happy I would be to be back in my element. As much as I want to say that this is the case, it is simply not true. In reality, running has not been as wonderful and picture-perfect as I had hoped. It’s not the effortless, floating on air feeling we experience when we’re fit. Instead, it is more of an awkward trudging type motion that leaves you feeling exhausted after each run (no matter how short and slow) and in constant paranoia of the pain of your injury coming back. My legs hurt. My lungs hurt. My core hurts. Everything feels like it is working 10 times harder than usual. As I gasp for air, I fight back thoughts of how much harder everything is compared to what I’m used to. It all just feels wrong. I know I should feel grateful; and I am. I know that I would rather be where I am now, running and feeling like shit, but running nonetheless. However, it doesn’t change the fact that running feels off.

There is a lot of talk about the sadness one feels during an injury, but what is many times left unspoken is how hard it is to handle the process of coming back to running and dealing with the self-doubt that comes with each and every step. It is hard to come to terms with the realization that it will take a lot of time before you come close to being as fit as you used to be and it is even scarier to think of how you will surpass that fitness to reach even greater heights. I have found that along with the struggles that come with dealing with an injury, returning to running is also one of the biggest mental challenges that I will face. I know I have a lot of humbling moments ahead, but I also know that every day I do the right thing with my training, I am one step closer to being back where I want to be. I will do my  best once the workouts start, I will take it super easy on recovery days, and I will listen to what my body needs. I will be patient with myself and my training and I will have faith that my fitness WILL come back. I have to believe that l will make it back with a level of grit and determination that I did not have before because I will know just how far I have come.  Here is my vow to stop the comparisons and trust in the process. I am running and I am grateful to be finding my way back home.

“Don’t try to rush progress. Remember- a step forward, no matter how small, is a step in the right direction. Keep believing.”

This post is not about running. It is about something far greater than that. Exactly one week ago, I lost my grandfather. In the words of my cousin, “They don’t make men like my grandfather anymore…strong, handsome, hard-working, and stoic- in the best sense of the word.”

He was a self-made man that didn’t make excuses; he simply worked hard, learned his way, and found success. He had a wife who he loved with his whole heart for 65 years. He had 4 daughters, 1 son, 16 nieces and nephews, and countless other individuals who he inspired just by being himself. In his 90 years, he always found a way to do the things he loved, while also being the patriarch of the family. He was a father, a grandfather, a great-grandfather, a brother, a wrestler (to this day, I have never met a better arm-wrestler than my grandpa), a tortilla-maker, a salsa-maker, a gardener, a dancer, a story-teller, and a loving husband. He could do anything. But above and beyond being a great man, he was my grandfather. I will never forget his sweet smile and his gentle disposition. Anyone who came into contact with him was better off just by knowing him. I feel humbled to have his blood in me.

I spent this past week surrounded by a loving family and it made me so grateful for the support network I have around me. But no matter how much love is around, loss is a concept that is hard to wrap our minds around. It leaves us feeling empty- like a piece of us is gone and will never be found. Death may be one of the hardest things we face in life; and all we can do to cope is love harder and hope that with time, our pain lessens. Remember the memories and let the times you shared together bring you comfort. Above all, cherish every moment, find the silver linings, and do what makes you happy. Life is short and we only get one shot. Do what you love and surround yourself with people who believe in you. Find a way to make your life meaningful and appreciate every second that you have on this Earth.

Zeide, thank you for the wonderful memories and the endless love you gave to me. I hope that I can make my life as meaningful and inspiring as you did yours. I love you and I feel honored to be your grand-daughter.

“Mostly it is loss, that teaches us about the worth of things.”

These past few months, I am being raw and honest when I say I have experienced more self-doubt than I think I ever have; not only in running, but also in life. People say your 20’s are the best decade; well let me just say, I highly disagree. I think that in my 20’s I have experienced more highs and lows than any other time of my life. I have constantly questioned myself and the decisions I have made. Self-doubt is a horrible thing. It makes you question every cell in your being. It crushes your hopes and your dreams, and even worse, it limits your potential.

When I was younger I always had a plan, and in a sense, it made life easy. Everything was simple. Make good grades in high school so you can go to a good college. Get into a good college, continue to excel, and then go on to a get a graduate degree to get ahead of the curve. And then what… Get a job? Get another graduate degree? What if you’re not sure? What if what you always told yourself you were going to do and who you always told yourself you were going to be isn’t what you want. Then what? Well, I think this is the first time when we really come face to face with life.

Life is never what you expect and definitely never what you plan for. If you would have told me ten years ago that I would be living in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, without a set career path, I would have had a mix of an anxiety attack and a nervous breakdown. I tend to get so caught up in what I think I should be doing and what my version of success looks like that I lose sight of the fact that the essence and greatness of life is that it is unpredictable. For us Type A personalities, unpredictability is a struggle. It brings us comfort to think that once we make a plan and stick to it, we have control. But we have to let go of that urge to always in be in the driver’s seat. Let it bring you comfort that life’s circumstances are beyond your control. Even when something goes awry and we feel like the world is ending, the sun always seems to come out the next morning. The fact that life is spontaneous and unpredictable is what makes life so amazing. We should embrace this. We can do anything. We can throw our plans to the wayside and chase down a dream. There are no limits to what we can do.

All of these thoughts stem from a deep self-doubt inside of me that I am currently fighting. I have no idea if my dream of qualifying for the Olympic Marathon Trials will ever be realized. Even when I’m healthy and back to my normal training routine, I will never be as talented as most of the professional runners I see racing and flying around the track. I am over 10 minutes away from the qualifying standard. That is a whole hell of a lot! And right now, as I struggle to heal from this injury, I can’t even put the work in to attempt get to the next level. All I can do is heal and be smart with my recovery in the hope that I can get back to the grind soon. But more importantly than that, I can learn to believe in myself. I don’t have the talent of Shalane Flanagan or Emma Coburn or Jenny Simpson, but I do have a fire inside me. I have a desire and fight to push my body to its very limits. There will be the doubters, including yourself at times, but you can’t give up on yourself nor should you ever lose sight of your dreams. There will be days when you wonder if it will ever be worthwhile. Fight through those days and it will give you a fire, a grit, an extra level that you can dig down into on the day when it matters. Never limit yourself. If you truly want a goal, with every piece of your heart, and believe you deserve it, then you can do it; you will do it. Like my dad said to me this week, “Nobody knows the size of your heart, so go catch that dream.”