Insecurities #2- Injury

This is a series I've thought about writing for quite some time now, and I hope it can be uplifting to anyone who can relate with the content. The amount of mental toughness it takes to be a serious distance runner is absolutely absurd, but with it comes mental struggles that can be equally absurd. I want to start writing typing about some of the mental struggles I've experienced and how I've worked through them. Of course, some will have encountered these same problems, some even worse than what I have had, but nonetheless they can be related to most people, I believe. With that, let's jump in to round 2.

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Before the beginning of my senior year of track in high school, I found myself grinding out miles on a stationary bike while staring at a predictably bland-colored wall in the backrooms of West Fargo High School. I honestly can't even remember what the injury was, but I came into the season far less prepared than I wanted to be. My first individual race came at the Bison Sports Arena in Fargo (an indoor track that isn't used for indoor track anymore), and I was able to stick with the leaders for a little bit, but my lack of strength caught up with me and I tanked the second half of the race, finishing with a disappointing place and time. It was devastating. I had aspirations of being a conference champion, and here I was sucking wind against guys who I had beaten before. My coach, fine-tuned to high school athletes in a way I have yet to ever see bested, assured me that I would be fine once I got back into shape, and furthermore that it wouldn't take as much time as I thought. His words attempted to lift me out of a pit and set me someplace that I could see clearer and breathe easier. Well, the short version of the story is that two weeks later at the same place and running the same distance against the same competition, I won a convincing victory at the indoor conference meet with a time that even surprised me. My first injury had been endured.

As luck would have it, the week leading up to the outdoor conference meet that same year, I found myself in the empty hallways of my school, head resting against a locker, sadness pulsing through my body. I had sustained a small strain in my calf a few days before, and it was the day of conference and I wasn't 100% healthy. I had been stretching and foam-rolling (well, I was using a rolling pin my parents borrowed me, isn't that a North Dakota family for ya?), but to no avail. When nobody was looking, I would bounce on my toes a few times to see if the pain had completely subsided. Nope. We were hosting conference, so I sought refuge in the school, where I continued to stretch and try jogging to see if the pain would go away. Nope. My races that day were terrible by my standards.

Less than a year later I found myself sitting on the floor of the UND locker room, stretching after another boring pool session, wondering what I was doing with my life. After getting handily beaten in all my cross country and track races, I sustained another injury, and this time I was told it was simply because I was weak and inflexible basically everywhere: hips, quads, back, etc...It was tearing me apart. I recall writing in my math notes one day: "Where would you be right now if not for running?" The question teased me for weeks. Did I really have a place running for a university when my body continually gave up on me? Could I not be doing much more good someplace else? I was still doing that thing where when nobody was looking, I would try jumping or jogging slowly to see if the pain had gone away. Nope. (By the way, I know that other athletes do that too- torment themselves by constantly testing their injuries when they KNOW it's not going to be healed, but they hang on to some sort of false hope. When they realize it still hurts, it only adds to the mental pain)

But then I became healthy enough to run a couple laps as part of my rehab exercises. It was only a few laps, but it was a huge mental relief for me. I literally felt the weight lift off my shoulders. You know, an injured athlete is quite an interesting creature. Sports and training are what they know, and teammates/training partners are their social groups; both of those disappear with injuries. The athlete is no longer in the 'in' group and likely doesn't understand inside jokes among teammates anymore. Their method of exercise and physical well-being is taken away from them, and they can torment themselves in many ways. Their appetite will lessen, their sleep patterns won't be as fluid, and their head will be filled with questions that had never taken hold there. It's especially worse for scholarship athletes, because those signed papers represent something that can't necessarily be filled when injured, and that can contribute to the helplessness they feel. For me, the worst is when I'm injured but go to a meet to cheer on my teammates. I get to field questions about why I'm not racing, and simply walking around in street clothes is enough to make me feel like everybody is looking at me, knowing. Sometimes it makes me just want to leave, because I feel so uncomfortable. I hear the gun go off at the beginning of every race, and a part of me simply dies. That could be me on the track.

Soon I was running more and more, and I even did some workouts. Unfortunately for me, I came back too quickly and re-injured the same spot, but I wasn't crushed as bad this time: I had remembered the joy of hobbling around the track when I had been waiting in want for months. The oft-quoted cliche held true: I didn't really know what I had until it was gone. Injuries can be a source of increasing sadness and discontent. Separation from team, long and grueling rehab exercises, and an unchanging full-time class load are all weighing down heavily on the athlete. The athlete may watch teammates perform outstanding, and have trouble being truly happy for them, because it was their absence that created the void for the teammates performance to even happen. But all that is wiped away when the sport can be experienced again. The joy of reliving the dreams of your past weeks can overcome any previous sadness. Being able to smile with teammates again is a truly wonderful thing.

I have still had other injuries in college, and each time I feel the same way: my world around me seems to crash down and crush my body with it. Smiling becomes harder, and joy becomes less. But I have gotten better over time. I now recognize injuries to be a blessing in disguise. Nothing in athletics can refocus your attention quite like having athletics taken away for awhile. You get to go back to the basics and start loving the game/sport again. In fact, I've started considering myself a lucky person to have had as many injuries as I've had, because every time I learn from it. I learn how to take care of my body in a new way, I learn something about training I had never thought about, and I learn how to endure seeing opponents crush out fast times while I watch. I've even learned how to be truly happy for teammate's success while I cannot run.

Above all, I have a solid foundation. With each passing year I realize how important it is to have a base in my life that isn't running or anything else. I have learned from reading the Bible how unimportant individual success is, and how important loving others and being there for their success is. My life isn't fully invested in running, and it does not serve as an idol for me, because I recognize that the most important part of life is to serve and live and Jesus did. In my most recent injury, it bothered me for a couple hours, but after that I said 'you know what, I know that God has a plan, and good can eventually result from this, whatever that may be'.

Injuries have always been a major stress for me, because it takes away something rapidly becoming an idol and forces me to refocus. It hurts mental and physically, and it truly tears some people apart, but if you keep the big picture in mind, you can actually thrive through them. Don't ever let your self-worth be tied to your success that depends on you staying healthy. Self-worth comes from knowing that you are fearfully and wonderfully made.

Blessings,

Nate

Insecurities #1- Body

This is a series I've thought about writing for quite some time now, and I hope it can be uplifting to anyone who can relate with the content. The amount of mental toughness it takes to be a serious distance runner is absolutely absurd, but with it comes mental struggles that can be equally absurd. I want to start writing typing about some of the mental struggles I've experienced and how I've worked through them. Of course, some will have encountered these same problems, some even worse than what I have had, but nonetheless they can be related to most people, I believe. With that, let's jump in to round 1.

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I recall my freshman year at UND when I was already running twice as much as I was my senior year of high school, and my body was going through transformations as a result. The very first thing I noticed was my calves. See, I have tended to run in such a way that my forefoot will land first, and that places a lot of stress on the calves. It stunned me, and it started to almost become a burden. I would be walking up the stairs to my dorm room and there would always be a mirror on the wall, and I would watch my newly-formed calves stretching and contracting and I walked to the second floor. On some occasions when nobody was in the stairwell, I would even embellish a little and get up on my tip-toes to marvel. I wish I was making this up, but I'm not.

It didn't take long into the second semester of my freshman year before I became acutely aware of the body-worship that was taking place. I would be walking around campus in shorts and wonder to myself if anybody noticed my calves like I did, which is completely ridiculous! I started wearing jeans more and more to try to train myself to stop looking at and thinking about it. It actually worked for awhile, but I had to do some prayer to realize that it really didn't matter what my legs looked like- we are all created different. I was satisfied with answer- or at least I was until I had to deal with it again.

The next years went by without trouble, but these past two have been kind of rough. As I've gotten faster and my competition has improved as well, I have noticed that almost everybody I finish near has similar characteristics: skinnier, more defined, and more runner-esque. When others run, you can see each individual leg muscle from miles away (especially in pictures), whereas for me there really isn't any definition- just a white blob. When others run, you can almost picture the wind knocking them over because they have no fat on them, but when I run I jiggle. When others run, their jersey fits loosely over their body, whereas mine fits more snug with less breathing room.The worst is watching professionals train, because they are so ridiculously fit and lean, and I'm usually sitting there eating peanut butter or something.

I know I am not alone in this. How do I know? Look at the prevalence of burn-out and eating disorders among endurance athletes. The desire to be skinnier, faster, and toned all at the same time can lead to disaster. I know I've had workouts where I was unable to finish and for the simple reason that I didn't have enough calories in my body out of fear of gaining weight.* I know a handful of people who have personally struggled with eating disorders, and it can kill a season, but more importantly a person's mental state. Every heard of Dagny Knutson? She was the swimmer from Minot who shattered every record imaginable, made it into the big-time, had an American Record at one point, and then came crashing down due to bulimia. Here's an excellent article about her from the New York Times: http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/26/sports/swimmer-dagny-knutson-retires-again-seeking-normalcy.html?_r=0

The first time I had any real help with body-comparisons and lack of any kind of self-confidence was conference cross country my junior year of college. We were at Montana State University in Bozeman, and during warmups I was trying to figure out who the big-dogs were; I had seen previous results from earlier in the season, and I knew that there was a guy from Southern Utah who would make it to nationals because he was a stud. I was looking through their team and they had many tall, lanky, lean runners that looked the part, and I couldn't figure out which was him. Fortunately, during the post-race awards ceremony I got to see which was he was- he was the short, stockier looking guy with the enormous calves. He looked to me more like an 800 runner than a cross country runner. I also realized that some of those super skinny, runner-esque guys I had beaten. It dawned on me that perhaps it didn't matter what your body looked like after all. 

With each passing year I become more and more convinced that it doesn't matter what your body looks like. You put in the time and you'll get better. Some people are more naturally talented than others, but that's out of your control. Trying to perfect the look of your body in order to expect some kind of artificial success is worthless and stressful. I know now that when I line up at the start line, chances are that most of the other runners will look more like a distance runner than me. I don't care. Every day I get to do something I love and enjoy it. I eat as healthy as I can, but I don't fear having a dessert or unhealthy snack occasionally. I have gotten skinnier, but if I'm hungry I'm not afraid to EAT. If somebody looks faster than me, I don't care- prove it to me in a race. If they are faster, who cares? I then have a new goal to chase. 

Don't ever let body image control you. There will always be skinnier people out there. There will always be people who look faster out there. There will always be people who have your ideal body image out there. Realize these two things: 1.) An ideal is just that- an ideal. 2.) There are people who cannot enjoy what they love for various reasons. Set goals, but know when to take a break. Above all, realize that, like I said above, we are all created unique and special by our Creator, and never take that for granted. Our body was made as a temple of worship, not a temple to be worshiped. 

I hope you enjoyed this post or were able to take something from it. I have at least three more of these posts on the way.

Blessings,

Nate

*I want to be crystal clear- I do not have and have never had any kind of eating disorder, but that doesn't diminish the argument.

High Performance Center

As I finished running a strider before the workout, one of my teammates came up beside me and said that we needed to get started, because she was getting jittery; I must admit I felt much the same. This was simply a workout- something we do two or three times a week, and yet I almost felt like I was about to start a race. Something was certainly special about this place.

As we finished one of our 400s, we looked over to the entrance area, where some older people were standing around, looking at the building and watching the track team workout. After years of training inside an old historic building, we were not used to people dropping by to check out the freshness. It took me back to last week, when we had the grand opening for the public. Hundreds of people- young, old, runners, non-runners- came out to celebrate. We heard from the some of the wealthiest most influential leaders in the community, and even had a ceremonial breaking of the tape where some of us ran around a small portion of the track and ran through a finishing tape while everyone stood around, clapped, and took pictures. Yet, amidst all the energy, there was a distinct silence in the building.

The inside is so incredibly massive in size and unparalleled in design that even a gathering such as this could not swallow up the quiet resting in far parts of the building. Athletes demonstrating in the other half of the buildings were tiny specks in another world. If they yelled, we may not be able to hear what they say. The roof is far over our heads, and looking into the oval lighting can be euphoric even. We have moved all of our track stuff over from the Hyslop- mats, carts, implements, hurdles- and yet the space still seems empty.

As we continued to pump out 400s it dawned on me that a large majority of the track team was in the building at that moment, and yet the amount of open area was stunning. Most lanes were dormant and the turf was recovering from whenever last the football team used it. A thought crossed my mind, one that I have many times in the past couple weeks: it is surreal that this is for us. Throughout my college career we have been to some beautiful track facilities, and I always marvel in jealousy at the host school and how lucky they are to not only have the facility to host meets, but also to train in. Now we have a 300-meter indoor track with the nicest surface money can buy surrounding a full-length turf football field. We have, no matter the time of year, a place to train where it is 60 degrees and not windy. We have space to accomplish what we want to accomplish. We have full length runways and pits for the jumping events. It continually blows my mind. Maybe to truly appreciate a place such as this, one must come from humble circumstances.

Of course, the grand opening to the public wasn't the first time we were thrown under the radar this fall. A few weeks before that there was a track and field reunion coinciding with the home cross country meet weekend, and that brought oodles of people from all over the place to come check out the new digs. The highlight of my day may have been noticing halfway through a conversation that I was talking to a 7-foot high jumper (he jumped that high- I mean he was tall but not that tall) and school record holder, but the excitement pulsing through the crowd of people was real. I watched as kids ran down the track, smiles erupting from their faces. I saw elderly folks walking around the track, soaking in the large posters on the wall, showing off famous athletes and teams (and the names of the donors for the pictures) of old. Most people could only say 'wow'. This had finally happened.

Yes, this was a long time coming. My freshman year my senior captain told me that when he was recruited in high school he had been promised this building. I've heard stories of people back into the late 90s being promised this building. Many people speculated that it would never be done as a result. It sits literally on the foundation of the old hockey arena, a place where my coach has said that the distance runners would go run 200m repeats in the winter, but eventually were barred from doing so because the building was condemned. Cradled next to Memorial Stadium, now it stands above other nearby buildings, proudly blazing the lit up interlocking ND into the dark skies of late fall in North Dakota, a sign of what has been made.

Going even farther back, UND was founded in an interesting place. At the time a university was scrapped together a mile outside the actual city of Grand Forks, isolated on the prairie. In every direction from the campus there was nothing but wheat bending in the breeze for miles. Trees? Nah. Water? Well the Red River was a few miles away if that dirty thing counts. Civilization? Eh, kind of. However, some visionaries decided that a university of higher learning was necessary to civilize the plains a little. Now we have a law school, med school, aviation school, business school, and everything in between. Every time something like the HPC is built, we are telling a story of strength. We can defeat the North Dakota winters. We can defeat the nothingness of the prairies. We do not have to be at disadvantage simply because of where we are from. It is a symbol of the heart of the people here.

We are going on cooldown now. We leave the building and go into this tiny little parking lot on the North side. We have to be a little careful, because the raised sidewalk is the same color as the parking lot, and Ryan almost ate a cement sandwich last week when he didn't notice that. We go around the dirt that has been seeded to raise some grass in the spring and head out into the city. When we come back, a travel bus sits in the parking lot. We speculate who it might be. Is it the football team UND plays tomorrow? Is is the volleyball team UND played yesterday? As we go into the HPC, it turns out to be a group of people checking out the building- standing over the railing and taking it all in. They seem as stunned as we were the first time we saw it. We went down the stairs to the track area. Yup, still pretty quiet.

As we packed up and left, I forgot to turn around and take a good look before we left. Oh well, I suppose we'll be in here quite a few times between now and May. Maybe by then I'll accept this gracious donation and stop being in shock that we actually get to train here. Then again, maybe not. How could one ever become accustomed to such a wonderful place? We now have a place to show off; we have a house to protect.

When the Reality is Better Than the Dream

The phrase 'deer camp' means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. For my family, it means every year during the first weekend of deer gun season in early November we assemble at the farm for a weekend of hunting, eating, and shooting the bull. With each passing year I realize that the hunting part takes a back seat to everything else. Each one of us is escaping his 'reality' in order to go off the grid for a weekend of bliss.

This weekend was my poorest in a long time in terms of training. I got a workout in on Friday morning before we left, but I barely managed 20 minutes of running on Saturday before sundown, and 8 1/2 miles on my normal long run day, where I'll usually run almost twice as many miles as that. Yet, I couldn't be happier. After a long day of hunting outside sun-up to sun-down, I have zero motivation to change into running clothes, go out into the dark, and run a sketchy prairie road to the section line to the county highway. Remember, this isn't a city where the streets are nicely lit for you. When the moon is not full and shining, you can't really see the ground beneath your feet. Combine that with bumpy, muddy, pot-hole ridden roads, and I think I'd rather stay inside and eat far too much of our perfectly crafted high-protein cuisine of venison, eggs, potatoes, and onions (and that's exactly what I did).

I talked with a teammate recently about a certain high-pitched buzzing that I get in my ears when everything is silent. When I'm outside in a place devoid of human noises and there isn't too much wind, all I can hear is the buzzing in my ears. I feel genuinely sad for him for not experiencing that before, because it is a magical sound that I search for. People in a conversation about why in h-ee-double-hockey-sticks I run as much as I do, the question occasionally pops up jokingly, "Well what are you running from?" [this is followed by some kind of expectant expression, as if I should have expected this question or something] I realized this summer that I AM running from something- noise. Cars, trains, people, buildings, airplanes, sirens, ...the list is endless. Living in Grand Forks sometimes hurts because I walk out the door in the morning and I'm immediately slammed with noise, ruining what might otherwise be a peaceful sunrise. Sometimes I almost feel enclosed.

And that's the wonderful thing about deer camp. No matter what's going on inside, I walk out the door and I see the stars, I hear the wind, and that's it. The world is at peace and I can breathe fresh, crisp fall air. I really have come to believe that everybody runs from something, but people who spend time in the country feel the same way, especially at our deer camp. Work, stress, obligations- all are deserted for a weekend of what some might call 'a dream'. Whether it's seeing the sunrise while sitting in a shelterbelt watching deer come running by; whether it's walking not-so-stealthily through a forest of cockleburs; whether it's watching shooting stars zoom across the light pollution-free night sky; whether it's sleeping in a place where no one will disturb you; whether it's watching deer swim across the river, fleeing the pushers, and keeping your gun on 'safety' the whole time; whether it's sitting around and talking about whatever is on your mind without worries of judgement; and whether it's running down a valley just to sit by a creek and listen to nothing while sweat steams off of your body with the sun setting- this is as close as life will get to 'reality'. I guess now it's back to the 'dream world' that involves writing papers, filling out schedules, meeting obligations, trying to get enough sleep, eating a lot less food, and writing more papers. Until then, I reminisce about the kind of quiet that I flee from. What do you run away from?

My Opinion on the UND Nickname (Part 3)

Part One: http://northdakotarunner.blogspot.com/2015/07/my-opinion-on-und-nickname.html
Part Two: http://northdakotarunner.blogspot.com/2015/07/my-opinion-on-und-nickname-part-2.html

Big news came out yesterday after the first round of voting for the final nickname that UND will adopt.
1.) The Fighting Hawks had the most votes, and in fact collected almost 1/3 of the total votes.
2.) Only about 27% of eligible voters actually voted.
3.) President Kelley allowed for the Nodaks nickname to continue to the final round of voting, reasoning that because it was only 100-and-some votes short of the second place finisher, Roughriders, it should be brought along. The North Stars and Sundogs were eliminated.

To begin, I was stunned to find out that Fighting Hawks had garnered the most votes. Off the top of my head I cannot name anybody who indicated to me that they would vote for this name, but rather I heard droves of people who would vote for Nodaks. It has been offered to me that many of these votes come from out-of-staters, and while I've noticed that now as well, there's no possible way for me to assert that without some evidence.

What stunned me more was the low turnout. For all the hullabaloo this issue has generated, the voting was frankly pathetic. I will reiterate what I say to people during political elections: if you don't vote, your opinion doesn't hold weight. I don't want to hear your opinion if you refuse to vote and actually contribute to the process. The only exception to this might be those who want to stay 'North Dakota' and refuse to vote out of protest, but even that is beating a dead horse. To those who don't vote because they want the Sioux nickname, believe that the process has been corrupted, and that the Sioux were silenced, I have more to say about that topic later*.

Why didn't people vote? It's sad. UND's spokesman said he was pleased with the turnout because it was the largest online survey response ever. That's one way to spin it, I guess. 27% is still small, no matter how you slice it, especially when the future of the university hangs in the shadows.

Some people are all up-in-arms about President Kelley's allowance of the Nodaks into the final round of voting. First of all, he was in a tough spot. If he keeps it out because that's what the rules said to do, he would take flack from those who would consider him unflexible and tight-fisted. If he allows it to move on, he takes flack from those who accuse him of circumventing the process and imposing his will on the voters. I personally found his decision to be a smart one, because it was so close to Roughriders. Second, who is surprised? We have precedent of Kelley suggesting change on the fly. Remember when the lists of names was being whittled down, and when 'North Dakota' was removed, he claimed that he would consider allowing it back in, even though the committee had already made a decision? Whatever you believe about his motives, this should not have surprised you.

Think back to the public nickname submission process. Remember the hundreds of cool names people came up with? I was excited to see all the creativity and ingenuity people had! As names were whittled down, I noticed that some names were much more bland than others. Unfortunately, my friends, we are close to assuming the blandest name that could have come from that list- The Fighting Hawks. Seriously? It's so generic and boring! But, people claim, I saw this cool Hawk logo on the internet- it kind of looks like the Chicago Blackhawks logo. Well, that's great. It still doesn't alleviate the real problem here- the fact that out of any cool name that we could uniquely label ourselves as, we choose some tasteless, run-of-the-mill nickname. What a waste of time and money.

[Now, I'm going to advocate for my choice of the three- Nodaks. First, we have been the Nodaks before. Second, it has nice flow to it. Last, but far most importantly, it's flexible and unique! I can't tell you how many times I've heard this: "Nodaks is dumb. What the heck is Nodak anyway?" WHO CARES. Nodaks doesn't have to be anything specific. That's something that we can come up with after the vote. We can define what it means to be a Nodak. We can define what a Nodak is. Nobody will mistake our university's nickname or its fan base, because we will have a unique nickname. It will stand out and give people something to talk about. Fighting Hawks is not special and will not draw attention- it's boring and dry. Nodaks is special, unique, flexible, and something we can be ultimately proud of. Vote Nodaks for UND's nickname.]

*As promised, here's a vent I've held in for a long time (there's some sharper tone in here, and I apologize if that bothers you). These past years I've heard so many people claim that they are concerned that the NCAA mistreated the various Sioux tribes, either by ignoring them, denying them autonomy, overstepping them, or generally not caring for their input in any way, shape, or form. Well, I'm touched that people seem to care about this supposed 'Silencing' of the Sioux. But since when do any of you give a rip about the Native Americans? I'll tell you when the Sioux were Silenced: they were silenced 150 years ago when many were killed by US military aggression (we call them 'wars' to justify it), drew up some 'treaties' (you know, like those treaties where one side suppresses the other and stuff), and over time shoved them onto reservations that we drew up for them.

Those of you most avidly voicing your concerns for the Sioux and claiming that you have sympathy for the suppressed people, do you also voice concerns about reservation alcohol and drug abuse? What about their schools? Are you involved in assisting their communities in any way? Surely you must to speak so forcefully on their behalf. I do not claim to understand what any Sioux tribe went through when the NCAA told us to get rid of the nickname. I've never been to a sacred pipe ceremony. I have not spent significant time on any Sioux reservations.Quick question: if I approached you right now, could  you- without the help of technology- name the Sioux tribes involved? Could you identify their leaders that you occasionally bash? Do you regularly consult the people? My guess is you can't. Sure, there are some who can, but they won't be the majority.

My point is this: there are many people who need to admit the obvious- the main reason they are suddenly concerned about the voice of the Sioux people being silenced is entirely due to anger at the Sioux nickname being taken away and the tradition dying. These people are easy to spot. They say things like "Well now that we aren't the Sioux, I guess we don't need to give scholarships to Indians anymore" or "Indians shouldn't be getting any special spots in the med school anymore now because of this", as if this nickname was directly tied to problems of poor education and medical care on some reservations or something. To them, the Sioux people are a convenient addition to their argument, but this comes down to anger over the Sioux nickname. It needs to stop. People need to move on. This whole ordeal WILL go down as a stain in the university's history, and we need to learn from it. What have I learned from this?

1.) I'm never going into politics. What a mess.
2.) People really loved the Sioux nickname.
3.) Convincing people to share your idea in an emotional topic like this is almost impossible.
4.) Some people get angered too easily at things that don't matter.
5.) Social media can be an ugly, ugly place.
6.) The general American public doesn't care or know anything about UND.
7.) NDSU fans will still know us as the Sioux.
8.) We will endure.

So there you have it. We're almost done with this colossal mess. I pray that we can move on. Someday.

-Nate

Reflections on Cross Country

Today may have been my last cross country race ever.

Next fall I'll be student teaching, and after that full-time teaching. I'll likely coach XC, so that would occupy almost every weekend in the fall. This thought dawned on me a few hours after the race today, so I figured I would reflect (because reflection is one of the best ways to learn, right?) It seems fitting that the weather today was, in the most pure way I can say this- perfect. The temperature hovered around 50 with a bright sun shining through the undisturbed, windless air. Time seemed to move slower today, and the leaves nonchalantly fell to the ground after the night's hard freeze. You could smell the fall everywhere.

Cross country is difficult to describe, at best. Many distance runners love getting on the track and grinding out hard workouts while feeling the heat rise from the track itself, but many more long for the grass races. Cross country is as close as we come in college to true foot-racing. One can think of cross country in the simplest of terms: pick any place ANYWHERE, point to a start line, point to a finish line, and say go. Hills, differing terrain, water, woods, prairie, turns, straightaways, heat, cold, snow, rain, sun, and wind can all be expected at any given place on any given day. The basic idea is that of a school playground- two kids ask a third to start them for a race from point A to point B. Whoever wins gets the bragging rights for the time being until a new challenger arises.

Even the start of a cross country race and the way it's executed is different. In track, people want to hit their splits and are generally afraid of going to the front and taking the lead. In cross country, people sprint to the front from the gun and hammer at each other until all but one have given up hope of winning. Times don't matter in cross country, because all courses are different: some are too long; some are too short; some have surfaces that are too soft; some have surfaces that are too hard; sometimes the weather is too hot, and sometimes it's too cold; the competition is different at every course. The natural unpredictability in cross country makes it all the more exciting.

Cross country can be equally exciting for the fan. Many first-timers learn the hard way that cross country is a dynamic spectator sport- there are no bleachers, no stands, no protection, and you have to move (any sport that is difficult for grandparents to watch has to be unique...right?) But this adds so much more to the race experience! When you're running and you see fans running through an open area trying to catch up to you and cheer for you, how great of a feeling is it to see someone sacrifice like that!

Cross country is also like appearing from a shell. Many people head home during summer months and use the time away from school to train hard and try to be better than the previous year, and once the academic year starts in the fall again, they re-emerge ready to do battle again. Cross country, then, symbolizes the beginning and not the end. Cross country is the first step on the long road to achieving goals for many people, and what a wonderful way to do it!

Cross country takes on an even more interesting role in North Dakota. Cross country season for me is calm morning runs at sunrise and running on grass in cool fall air. Cross country season is a time to enjoy the time of year that the weather is pretty much perfect here. As cross country season begins to fold, the cold and snow come, and the mental training kicks in for the next six months as we try to defeat the cold and wind. After that, it's not long before the mental training of defeating summer heat fires right back. After surviving those nine months of struggle, the golf courses open up to racing, the weather hit the right mark, and the real racing begins.

Perhaps I'm complicating this far more than need be. Then again, perhaps I am not. This was my 11th cross country season, and each one has been worth it more than I would have previously imagined. It started in 7th grade, when I would routinely finish in the bottom third of middle school races. It continued through 9th grade when I had a couple of top-20 finishes in JV races, but my only varsity 5k found me in the bottom 5 of the race. Cross country found me slowly working up to become all-conference and then all-state. Cross country found me going through injuries in college and fighting off sickness for conference meets twice. Cross country found me slowly moving my way up from the back half of D1 races to more in the middle. Cross country found me transition from always wearing under armour shirts and shorts underneath my jersey to just wearing my jersey top and bottom only. Cross country found me racing in snow one week, and 80s with humidity the next. Cross country brought me through North Dakota, South Dakota, Minnesota, Iowa, Illinois, Missouri, Nebraska, Montana, and Arizona. Cross country allowed me to meet other people from other teams who shared a similar passion to mine. Cross country each and every year becomes not only a burning passion, but something that I can't seem to find myself ever giving up.

I can't help but think back to after the race today when I was stretching in the open on a perfect fall day. I reflected on after the finish, when I was talking with the only guy in the race to have beaten me. We had run almost the entire race together, and he was simply better than me at the end. Even though it was an incredibly tough race, I had so much joy during it. I exclaimed to him, "That was a lot of fun!"
He looked and me and chuckled. "That's one way to look at it."

Yes, yes it is.

Thanks again, cross country. I already miss you.

-Nate

Stress Relief

I am a worrier, but usually not to the point where it affects me substantially. However, this past week I was faced with two separate instances that caused me significant stress- one feeling absolutely overwhelmed by life, and the other being treated egregiously by a math exam. In each case, my thoughts swelled to the negative and the sad. It's hard to not let things get us down sometimes in this roller coaster of life.

On Wednesday I was struggling to schedule out my life in such a manner that would give me some breathing room, but also let others in. I wish I could be more specific, but trust me I was stressed. I found myself daydreaming in class, trying to fix problems and salvage situations. I know I can't be alone in this thought process, because I am well aware of how stressful of an environment college life in general can be. Financials, academics, relationships, and personal self-worth can all drive us crazy in ways that not only can we not understand but we sometimes refuse to accept. As cliche as it sounds, it feels like a weight or burden on our shoulders and chest, making it harder to breathe and enjoy our surroundings. 

On Wednesday we had a workout at University Park. During the warmup my mind was still in other places, trying to separate out all the clutter. However, once the workout started my mind cleared. It wasn't that I refused to think about it, but rather that it disappeared from my head. The clouds opened up, my legs moved, my heart rate increased, and I found myself encouraging teammates instead of sulking around. The faster I ran, the better I felt. Only once I had returned to the Athletics Building (the legendary and far too old Hyslop Sports Center) did I recall my day. For the previous hour, I was de-stressed, and even when I returned I felt lighter. 

On Friday (yesterday) I had the great pleasure of finishing off my week of classes with what passes of as by far my worst math exam I've ever taken. As a math major and someone who has excelled in math class over the years, this was tough. About halfway through the exam I could feel the weight of time and the reality of struggle beginning to press down on me. When time ran out and I had to turn in my work, I was ashamed of what I had written. I imagined how the Professor would look with contempt upon what I had turned in. I could already feel judgement from classmates I barely knew and would have no vested interest in my scores. I sensed my GPA dropping, and the wind was sucked from my chest. I know this sounds too emotional, but it was a punch in the face. I staggered to the locker room for my workout, and similar to Wednesday, once I got out on the roads and started talking with teammates (S/O to Connor Danielson), my shoulders perked up and my mood lightened. The air was actually sweeter, which was good because about 45 minutes later I was sucking it in a lot harder than I anticipated! When I got back, I wasn't even worried anymore; the test was behind me, and I could only move upwards from here. 

I know that I'm not the only one to experience this. The paradox is that something physically demanding like running can actually lift our burdens and lessen our stress. This wouldn't normally make much sense, and the more I think about it and try to explain it, the less sense it makes. One thing that pops into my mind is what work is in our lives. When we have to be restless for long periods of time, do we not begin looking for things to do? It's not in our nature to be sedentary, but rather we find joy in our work. Sitting around is fun for a time, but eventually we stand up and find work to delight in. Running has become (and can become) that for many people. We shut off our minds to the troubles surrounding us and let the joy and delight of what we do overtake. For a moment, we are lifted. This reminds me of one of my favorite Bible verses: "A person can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in their own toil" -Ecclesiastes 2:24" 

This is true in so many ways. Find some kind of work that can help you when you are stressed. That way you won't drown in your sulking. 

It's probably worth mentioning that a little prayer can go a long ways too!

P.S. I'm not sure why when I copy and paste something, the background of the text turns white. I have no idea how to make it go away, so I guess it'll just have to look sloppy. I'm human I suppose.

-Nate