A Wild Stubbornness Has Taken Me This Far

I'm planning to end my streak of consecutive days running on January 2, 2011.

I last took a day off last Christmas. Since then, I have run at least three miles every day, 345 days so far. Over the course of the streak, I've tried to train and race the same way I always have. But to keep the streak alive, I've run on days when it definitely would have made more sense to take the day off. For example, I probably didn't need to run the day after the marathon in October, and I probably would have benefited from trading some of those 11 p.m. runs for an extra hour of sleep. Oh well.

I feel like I could remember every one of my runs if I tried, although some stick out more than others:

I remember running ninety minutes in a snow storm with Terry and Tyler, doing loop after loop following a snow plow around the campus of Babson College. It seemed to snow every weekend for a month, and every weekend we faithfully observed the ritual of the long run.

I remember running in a downpour one late afternoon in April, and coming across the deserted turf fields at Concord-Carlisle High School. Already drenched, I was seized by inspiration and took my shoes off and suddenly a dull and joyless obligation became a barefoot frolic. If anyone happened to see me that day, I am sure they thought I was quite insane.

I remember returning from the New England Prep School XC Championships a month ago, trying to decide whether sprinting back and forth around the course all afternoon watching my runners "counted" as a run, concluding that it didn't, and after saying goodnight to the team, slipping away to the Concord track to run three quiet miles in the dark. When I was done, I lay on my back in the middle of the deserted track, and looked up into the starry night for some time before I got cold and decided it was time to go home.

A lot of memories, mostly good. But now I'm about ready to end this thing. I hope I get to do it on my own terms, but there are obstacles remaining. On December 24th, I'll be departing with my family on a trip to Tanzania to visit Joni. Running that day and the next will be tough. Joni tells me that while we're in Arusha, I'll be able to run as long as I don't mind people pointing at me and yelling, but that from December 28th on when we're in the national parks, the only option is to run tiny loops within the perimeter of the campgrounds. In other words, it's strictly forbidden to assert the right to become lion food.

On those days, I'll try to get my three miles done by running in small circles. Joni says it will be like running 35 laps in the old SOA -- if, that is, the SOA had no walls or ceiling, was plagued by malarial mosquitoes, and was in the middle of the Serengeti. In other words, I might not be able to do my runs, but I'm hopeful and I'm stubborn.

If I'm still alive and the streak is intact, I'd also like to run on New Year's Day because I hate the idea of starting a new year with a day off, but on January 2nd, I'm not going to run, even if I feel like it.

Speaking of stubborn, about the only thing I can point to as a "learning experience" from this streak is that running every day has allowed me to cultivate a whole new level of stubbornness of which I'm becoming immodestly proud. It's pretty funny how it manifests itself in trivial things. For example, only a few nights ago I had another day of non-stop obligations that forced me to head out the door at 9 p.m. for one of my freezing late-night three milers. About two miles into my run, one of my shoelaces came untied. Instead of giving in to the shoelace and stopping to re-tie it, I thought to myself "I am NOT stopping to to tie a @#&*ing shoelace on a three-@#&*ing mile run," and I didn't. I ran the rest of the way with the shoelaces flopping and the shoe threatening to become dislodged from my foot. For one mile on the deserted streets of West Newton it was me against a piece of footwear.

I finished my run with the shoe still in place, stubbornness rewarded.