In a Different World

I found myself firmly gripping the seat beside me and expelling weird squeaky noises while Drew slammed on the brakes. The advent of abruptly stopping on the interstate, slowly speeding up, abruptly stopping again, and continuing this for miles was foreign to me, and it was stressing me out. The other passengers briefly enjoyed my struggles, and went back to looking forward. The Twin Cities is a different world.

The traffic on the interstate reminded me of the race I had just run the day before. Down in the deep, dark depths of the metro area sits a grandiose cross country course that normally serves as a golf course, but on that day it would serve host to hundreds of college and high school runners. I found myself tangled in with more than 400 runners in the Maroon II race, competing unattached. I ran a smart, strong, and conservative race, even-splitting the whole thing, feeling good, and never going too far outside my comfort zone. In layman's terms, it functioned practically as a hard workout rather than a race. As a result my claustrophobia was put to the test, because I wove my way through more than a hundred people between mile one and the finish. Many a time I simply wanted to 'get out', but once I settled in, I had a much more enjoyable time. The Twin Cities felt much the same. At first every fiber of my being screamed to get out into some open space, where the permeating sound of the interstate ceased. However, once we went around the area a little and ran in some quaint places, I eased in and found some contentment.

I pondered all of this while I sat alone in the back seat, shirtless, buckled in, and letting the warm wind blow violently through my short hair. The vehicle we were in did not have AC, and for the third day in a row temperatures were hovering around 80 while the sun attacked through every open space and window it could find. I was quite uncomfortable. Earlier in the day we had gone to Battle Creek Park in St. Paul (well, TECHNICALLY it was in Maplewood, argued Drew's mother) and ran for an hour forty-five minutes. Little to my surprise, I was drenched with sweat head to toe. Fortunately many of the bike trails snuck through the woods, providing shade. Unfortunately these same areas were characterized by unsympathizing, unforgiving hills, something my Red River Valley legs still don't tolerate well. I would keep looking at my watch, begging time to go faster and dream of air conditioning and water. I would think back to my summer runs in the North Dakota countryside, where shade is something of folklore. How I survived the relentless assault from the sun then I know not. What I did know is that I was sweating. A lot.

As we continued on our way out of the Cities, it was clear that there were many more cars going into the metro than out. The weekend was rapidly coming to a close, with the cool door of fall every week closing tighter and tighter, with winter on the sidewalk, about the come into the driveway. We were leaving the area. I thought about how many colleges can still be found in smaller towns and cities, and how large meets like Griak draw in colleges from all walks of life, sucking them into the area, throwing them through a course, and sending them back on their way. The travel buses fill up, the local restaurants go through two hours of chaos, the hotels are busy cleaning up from the onslaught, and even the airports fill up with like-colored groups of thin, fit, young adults. The excitement for a time overwhelms, but this too should pass, and teams return to their quiet stomping grounds, ready to head out on their favorite trail the next morning. The Twin Cities is just a different world.

As we come into North Dakota, I put down my book on the Presidency of Theodore Roosevelt and enjoy the scenery. The Red River Valley is my home. No matter the wind, the cold, the flat, the human void, the lack of 'culture' (whatever the heck that means)- this is home. A part of me dies when I hear tough talk about the great need to exodus the Valley ASAP, but it may be for the better. As we drive north on I-29 headed for Grand Forks, with the sun setting and glowing red off of the clouds, the full moon rising in the east, the dust settling in the air and a general cool and calm taking over the area, I couldn't help but feel the itch to go out on a gravel road and run; I wanted to hear the scratching sound of shoes on dirt and have that be the only noise I could hear. I didn't get much of that in Twin Cities, but after all- it's a different world.

I can't help but remember the morning of the race though. We did a short jog from the house we stayed at and went down the road a couple miles. The sun was cracking the horizon, illuminating the landscape flooded with trees and grass. Some lazy fog sagged on top of the grass, refusing to move, and with no breeze, the air and water stood still. There was coolness in the air, and a sense of hope seemed to lift from the ground. As I jogged along down the road, I smiled. Maybe it's not so different a world after all.

North Dakota's Best-Kept Secret

We pulled off the gravel road into the gravel parking lot. This enormous space was covered currently by two pickups, each with a trailer behind it; finding a parking spot was not difficult. We exited the vehicle and were greeted to full sunshine and breeze from the south. After getting in our normal preparations for a run (clothing, bathroom breaks, hiding my car keys in a nearby flower patch), we ran through the entrance, under a big iron sign with 'Pembina Gorge State Recreation Area' cut out of it. It helped that this time Ryan had his GPS watch and we were better prepared than last spring, our first time here.

Last spring we had be misled by a post on the PGSRA page saying that they had prepared a 12-mile dirt loop to go on. Naturally we assumed that we would keep following the trail to its end, and after our two teammates turned around at 6 miles, we kept pushing forward, confident that we would get back to the same spot. 6 miles turned into 7, then 8, then 10. We were starting to become fatigued, and we assisted ourselves by walking up the hills instead of running them. It was dawning on both of us that we were in for quite the run. Our suspicions were confirmed when we reached the end of the trail, 90 minutes into the run, and we were greeted by a sign letting us know that the trailhead was 7.5 miles down the road. Ryan and I gave each other the a forlorn, understanding look, took a short break, and started down the road. I said a little prayer in my mind, asking if we could be helped somehow. Sure enough, within a minute some ATV-ers came by (this is first and foremost an ATV trail, but hardly anyone uses it) and let us ride back to the parking lot with them. Such nice people.

This was on both of our minds today and we started plodding down the dirt trail into the Pembina River Valley. It's amazing, this area. The Red River Valley is a completely flat tract of land spreading east and west from the north-flowing Red River, but once out of the valley, the land can change magnificently. Thus the Pembina River Valley is a quite rugged, tree-covered area on both sides of the river, with some smaller cliff-faces hugging the scenic byways to drive through. The whole area is simply stunning, even now before the leaves begin to turn in for the fall. 

As we begin our mile-long ascent early in the run, it dawns on both us that the first 15 minutes had literally flew by without our noticing. Much is to be said about how doing something you love with somebody else who loves the same thing can be one of the greatest joys in life, and this was no exception. In the trees the shade protected us and showed us great views of the surrounding area and trails ahead. When we peaked out of the trees, the breeze was there to greet us and the we could see the other side of the valley, protruding greatly from the North Dakota countryside- well, at least most of it is North Dakota countryside, because only a few miles north lies our friendly Canadian neighbors. 

Miles 3, 4, 5, 6 and 7 went without much trouble. Around mile 3 I was stung by a bee for the second time this week (I was stung in the arm 4 days ago, and today was my leg), and it was stinging because my sweat was 'washing' it out, or so that's how I reasoned it. Most of this running was downhill, so naturally when we turned around, it was back uphill for awhile. Ryan and I were starting to tire from all of this, and our focus increasingly became making it back to the vehicles. Late in the run we were passed by some ATV-ers, but for the most part it was just he and I bantering back and forth. The ATV-wide tracks made it easy for us to run side-by-side, highly motivating in this environment. The views were still spectacular, and the running still difficult.  

About a mile from the end, we decided to take a quick break, because we had been going up and up and were about to die. So we relaxed (whatever that means after 13 hilly miles), and charged hard to the finish. There we chatted with the ATV-ers from Grand Forks we had earlier encountered. It seems in this huge area of wilderness we were the only people here. They took off for more riding, Ryan and I absorbed our food we brought along, and we got back into the car. We had been here for two hours, but as we pulled out of the parking lot onto the quiet gravel road, the wind blowing dust across the nearby sunflower field, we could see still the two pickups in the parking lot. Nobody was to be seen anywhere. 

-Nate

An Ode to Morning Practice

My alarm went off at 5:45, and I quick hopped out of bed, shut it off, grabbed my prepared backpack, and swept out the door. The air was damp and muggy, a sign of the hot day to come. The streets were cautiously quiet, and a few early morning (or potentially late night) vehicles lit up the road. I wasn't tired at this point because I was amped for practice.

Upon arriving at the Hyslop I was surprised by how many vehicles were already in the parking lot. I figured that some of them were swimmers, because they always seem to have morning practice. I scurried inside where I could see not only half of my team ready to run, but the ROTC program at UND doing their conditioning. My my how busy it can be at 6am. I threw on a pair of shorts and no shirt and came out with the team. Some of the group looked tired, but most people looked awake and ready to go. I couldn't help but think of how this can be considered almost a bonding exercise rather than a workout, because everybody is making the same sacrifice. There is a sense of accountability relevant to the whole team when practice comes up in early- it's as if we understand each other.

We began running down the gravel train tracks, the sun still a little too tired to wake up, and the fog starting to come in. I couldn't tell if it was raining, or if it was just that humid. Maybe that's why the sun didn't want to come out yet.

We arrived at University Park to an eerie view. No people, limited light, no wind, and fog settling over the area. Our tempo workout began and seemed to go pretty well. Most people complained that their muscles were having difficulty waking up to the pace, and times suffered accordingly. I'm still proud of the guys for all the work they've been putting in and I know this is going to be a good year.

We finished and the one thing we all had in common was sweat. I was without a dry spot on my body, and in fact my running shorts were dripping onto the back of my legs. My shoes were wet from the dew in the grass, and everybody else was in the same boat. We looked around at each other, enclosed in this world that we created early in the morning, with nobody watching.

We jogged back to the Hyslop as the sun was beginning to get out of bed. As expected, so was everybody else, and the roads were beginning to fill up. We promptly headed over to weightlifting to get absolutely jacked stronger for the season, and called it a morning after more than 2 hours of work. I can't help but go through the rest of my day with a sense of pride about accomplishing an early morning feat, much like I feel every day I'm up early training (i.e. every day all summer). I think that this is not specific to running, but to everybody. Most people will acknowledge that getting up even 30 minutes earlier than normal to work out, read, or do something else feel more refreshed and ready for the day than if they had simply hopped out of bed. Now, I'm not saying that sitting through lecture was any easier, but it does help the day move along better when the hard work is put away early in the morning.

So now it's afternoon, and it's hot out. All of the dew has evaporated from the park, our footprints gone. The sweat from the morning has disappeared, and the runners have all gone their separate ways. The physical evidence of the morning workout is not to be found at the park, the athletics building, the weight room, or the locker rooms. To the city of Grand Forks, we weren't even there. No, the physical evidence comes later in the season when workouts start showing up in races. The evidence will appear on race results. The runners themselves will feel it as they become more fit. One must endure sacrifice to achieve a goal.

So this is an ode to all you early-morning and late-night trainers. The alarm clock can be your worst enemy, and at times the loneliness of the morning or evening can be overwhelming. However, that's when some of the best work gets done. Keep grinding.

Why I Run #3- Training/Racing

Over the last few months I've been trying to understand what competitive running actually is. I mean, when you think about running at it's most basic level, we as humans have this function where we can move our legs back and forth quickly, pushing off the ground and bounding forward in pursuit of something. Racing then, at its most basic level, is two or more people using this function to see who can get from a certain spot to another certain spot first. I suppose we as humans love to make things competitive, and so even something as simple as running becomes a competition. That's the obvious part for me.

The not-so-obvious part comes in when running morphs into something else. Let me start out by talking about children. Many of them run wherever they go. Whether we tell them to go back to their cabin or to go sit at a different spot at the table, often they will skip into a run to wherever they are going. Over time the more I run I've lost this ability to up and run somewhere, and I've wondered why. I've realized that I have a difficult time entering this state of 'running' that might differ from a children's. When I finally invest myself to run (like in a game or something), I'm running around the WHOLE time and it's almost like I can't stop; I've entered that state of 'running'. Question for thought: might children more easily enter that state that people older than them?

Anyway, I've found that often I will say to people "I'm going for a run" or "I'm going to do my run", but that seems odd to set aside time during the day to run, when running is just a way to get somewhere quicker, whereas I might not normally be attempting to go anywhere, but rather just get faster. As soon as I start running, I'm in that state of 'running', and I'll stay there until I'm done. Even when we get back I'll be more inclined to jog around to fetch things (like something from the locker room). 

So running morphs into this weird part of me that allows me to enter a different state of being/mind (note: I don't use drugs if that's what this is sounding like). I think about different things. Time moves at a different pace. The countryside can be explored. My worries can disappear for a time. I may even find some time to pray. This leaves me looking for more. The reason injuries are so hard to get through is because I miss running during that time. 

Some days are hard and I wonder why I keep running, but it's weeks like this last week that remind me of why. On Wednesday I had a workout, and I made my way to the gravel roads outside of town. To get there I was running through the ATV tracks in the ditch along the highway, and that coupled with my body feeling great and the weather being amazing, got me smiling and laughing. It was fun! I'm sure I looked like an idiot to all driving past, but I was having a great time!

The next day I was in Fargo where I was running with two NDSU distance guys that I knew in high school, and later that afternoon I ran with a former high school teammate of mine. It was incredibly satisfying to share this gift with others, and it added to my joy. 

Then last night at something running related the speedway races in Grand Forks I was watching the sprint cars race on the dirt track. As soon as the green flag comes out, they are flying all-out 100% racing. They give each straightaway and turn everything they have, and they'll do everything possible to pass somebody. Until the race is over or caution comes out, they are giving it their all. I couldn't help but think of racing in track being similar- once that gun goes off it's everything you can give until you cross that finish line. The race might be hard, but the peace that comes from training and accomplishing a goal- that's why I run. 

Blessings for the upcoming school year!

Last Camp Post

I sit beside a cornfield, looking across the prairie pothole landscape. On such a warm day, the breeze moves hot air from one place to another, picking up the dusty air from wheat harvest and making a haze across the terrain. The sun is slowly setting off in the horizon, bouncing brilliantly off the valleys and sparkling through the haze. I look across from my spot and see all of the camp staff sitting in a circle, preparing for the evening festivities. It's our last night as a staff for the summer, and soon we will all separate ways, some to high school, some to college, and others to work full-time. This being my fifth year on summer staff, only one person here outranks me in tenure, that being my roommate who has worked here 6 summers. Another summer comes to an end. Because I am entirely unsure as to whether or not I'll be able to come back to the Bible Camp next summer, I reflect.

I remember the first time I came to the camp as staff was immediately after state track my senior year of high school. I mean, I literally left the Bowl in Bismarck, hopped into my car that my parents brought, and drove up to the camp for the weekend. That first summer changed me thoroughly. That summer was the first time I realized that God really did have the best intentions for my life, as I had always learned growing up but had never experienced. For the purposes of this blog however, my first summer at camp was when I truly fell in love with running.

I recall an evening, likely a Friday night after campers had left, when I was doing a 7 mile run. Now this was a long distance for me, because I spent the entire summer before my first year of college building up to 40 miles a week, which is what most decent high-schoolers run. It was a tought challenge for a guy who barely ever cracked 30 miles a week in high school! This particular night in late summer, the sun was setting on a beautiful day, and it was beginning to get cool out. The gravel road was quiet, and nobody was out and about. I was running on the tire tracks of the road to avoid the scratching sound of shoes on rocks, and I was bouncing on my toes to minimize sound. The result was that I was moving running and yet I could not hear myself. I sped up because of how amazing it was. I remember looking up and smiling, being thankful for something that wonderful. From that moment on, I was hooked on running in the country, where peace can come even from exercise.

I recall hot summer days where I would go for a run in the afternoon during my break prep time and would barely have enough time to stretch before I had to go pick up my campers. I would show up to the canteen still wearing my running shorts, with sweat still coming down my back. I'll tell ya- campers make quite a fuss when seeing a college-age male in 'shorty-shorts'.

I recall learning about how wonderful it is to stop sometimes during a run and just appreciate the quiet. Every now and again I would be absorbed in my thoughts and I would suddenly realize how quiet it was, so I would stop running and simply look and listen. Nobody was there to worry about me standing in the middle of the road, and it was bliss.

I recall learning about how terrible it is to stop sometimes during a run simply because the heat was overtaking me. I've learned many more life lessons from the days that I couldn't do it than the days when I could. The length of my prep time doesn't change, no matter if I can or can't get up that hill while the sun is beating me down. It doesn't matter if I get a sideache- I need to get back! I learned how to stay disciplined even when the day gets tough.

I recall the times where I learned how to be humble. There's nobody watching here. When I'm running, I'm on my own. It doesn't matter how fast or far I run- nobody cares because they can't see it and they don't hear about it. I get back from a run and the campers first question isn't how my run was, but rather what time supper is. Over the summers I've had some weeks where I literally cannot run my miles due to time constraints. I remember one specific week where I struggled to get in 20 miles in one week even though I was completely healthy. I was stressing out about it, but it was at those moments where I really had to put faith and trust in Him to provide for me whatever I needed if the track team at UND was a place I was called. So far every year he has in some way, and it helps me in my walk.

I recall the many days when life was made better simply because I ran. One would think that running is more tiresome than energizing, but I disagree. Not only does it give me a little boost for the day (no I don't use performance enhancing drugs- it's a figure of speech), but it allows me to so much more appreciate everything going on around me. I become more in tune with the weather, the scenery, my body in general, people around me, and everything else. I see when the boats come in; I see when the deer and rabbits are out; I get a feel for what all times of the day feel like.

It has dawned on me this summer how intimately connected running and working at a Bible Camp are to me. With one of them missing, I feel a hole inside of me. Camp has transformed me into who I am today- more loving, less angry, and more appreciative of all that I had been given, but it has also turned me into the runner I am today. I never would have predicted that I would be staying for another year of school to chase records and qualify for regionals, but God has the power to do that- don't ever forget that.

My last memory that encapsulates everything I've talked about has to do with my freshman year of college where I came into the cross country program fresh off of my first summer of camp. I would babble during the runs about camp and North Dakota and how awesome they are, and repeatedly I would be reminded to stop talking. 4 years later and I still can't. Praise God!

Have a Great Rest of the Summer!

The Journey

Yesterday I returned back to Camp of the Cross following my first-ever week of camping in the beautiful North Unit of Theodore Roosevelt National Park. We stayed there Monday-Friday, and the weather was beautiful pretty much all week. We brought 6 campers with us, and we spent all week either hiking, swimming in the Little Missouri, or playing cards (I'm serious- we played more than 10 hours of cards).

Of course we had ambitious ideas of long, difficult hikes coinciding with overnight backcountry camping under starry skies, but we first had to asses the abilities of the campers. They were grades 8-12, with five guys burgers and fries and one girl. The first day we were at the park, we hiked a nature trail and off-trail up a medium-sized butte. It was clear from the get-go that four of the guys and the one girl were going to be fine. It was also clear that one of the campers was going to struggle on any of the more difficult hikes, because he had a lot of trouble climbing up hills. We eventually decided that differentiating hikes was our best option, because we all walked the Caprock Coulee trail on the second day, and we had to split up during the rugged parts because we were simply holding some kids back (and we needed to get back to move out of our single campsite by noon so we could go to the group campsite).

On the third day we were planning on hiking the Buckhorn trail to the northeast Prairie Dog Town. It was a couple miles of uphill hiking out, lunch at the Prairie Dog Town, and then we would head back. We split up into two groups, one of which immediately started plowing down the trail, the other staying back and taking it nice and easy, with plenty of breaks in the shade along the way. I was with the latter of the two, and I brought along some informational supplies a local Pastor (hat-tip to Pastor Paul for the books) gave us, and I spent quite a bit of time identifying different prairie plants.

I must take a moment to say- it was BEAUTIFUL. We walking along the sides of the ridges, half of it through trees and brush in the shade, the other half of it in the open with stunning scenery all around. I know for a fact that if I would have been with the first group, I would not have enjoyed the hike as much, because I'd be spending more time watching my footing and less time looking up and around. In fact, at one point we were traversing a 300 foot climb with no switchbacks and halfway up we decided to sit down and rest for a little bit so the campers could catch their breath. We honestly just sat there in relative silence for ten minutes enjoying the amazing scenery.

When we had made it to the Prairie Dog Town, had lunch, and turned around to come back, the first group again took off. It took them 40 minutes to get back to the vehicles, and it took my group 90 minutes. On the way down the hill, the camper who was most struggling on the hike admitted that he enjoyed the slower pace. He said that he wouldn't want to walk as fast as he could anyway, because then he wouldn't enjoy the hike as much. "I mean, isn't that what hiking is all about anyway?" he said.

Woah.

I would imagine that sometimes people want to hike hard to see how far they can get, but I want to relate this to running because that's what I know. Often it's easy to ignore what's going on around me when I'm running and focus instead on the running itself. The road becomes an object to be conquered, and the weather is my enemy, forever fighting against my will. The sunshine is trying to cook me, and the sound of prairie disappears. I become a prisoner to my mind. What I need to remind myself at times is that life is too beautiful to simply run past it without looking. The road through the country is a beautiful means of my travel; the weather is different every day and can be learned from and appreciated; the sunshine is something we all need for life; I have ears to listen to the beautiful sounds of the prairie, too.

I would agree 100% with the camper that we need to slow down and enjoy what Creation provides for us, even when we are seemingly too busy to see it. I have two statements in the my running locker that each needs a 'yes' answer for it to be considered a good day:
1.) Did you do everything you could to be a better runner today?
2.) Did you have fun today?

I'll tell you what- this last week while I was slowly hiking through the badlands and thinking about everything I'm trying to do to shake off this IT band problem, I realized that both questions were answered with a 'yes'. To me nothing else can be done.

...well a little prayer can only help too :)

Take some time to enjoy your work today, because if you allow it to, the journey can be just as good- if not better- than the destination. Blessings!

Lessons From Children (2)

I was crawling on my hands and knees through the dew-covered grass, making sure to stay in the shadows of the trees created by the full moon. My body was covered with black clothing, and the searching campers couldn't see me. I didn't make a sound. I was moving slowly through the darkness towards my goal: making it to a staff station to collect a coveted number. 90+ campers were looking for a few staff members like myself running through camp under the cover of night. I had taken 15 minutes to go around the gaga pit, behind the PMG cabins, behind the retreat center, and down towards waterfront. I was getting closer to my goal.

I was curled up next to a tree because a group of older campers were walking past. They veered towards my tree (high school guys and girls trying to stay away from people so they could hang out), and it was only a matter of time before they would be able to see me. I became tense, ready to take off. When they got within about 5 yards of me, they said: 'is that a counselor? Yes it is!" and I took off. I started running towards the parking lot, but a group of kids appeared from behind the trees. I turned on a dime and started running towards the lodge, stumbling a couple times in low areas that I couldn't see.

For every camper I dropped, two more came out in front of me. Many were screaming 'counselor! counselor!' and as I came near the playing field and the lightpole, my movements were illuminated, and kids started to swarm. I knew I couldn't make it to the safe staff station at the chapel or amphitheater, so I scoured the area looking for stations. I saw three people sitting at a picnic table ahead of me. I continued sprinting that way until I finally reached it, avoiding being tagged the whole way. My breathing was heavy and my legs were tired, but I made it.

I looked up and saw three younger girl campers looking at me. I deflated. "This isn't a station?" I barely squeaked out. "Nope!" they said, and tagged me right there. I turned around and saw all the happy camper faces. WE GOT NATE! The girls were ecstatic as they brought me to the jail, telling me all about how they had tricked me into thinking that was a station.

At first I was angry. I, as the fastest person at camp, had clearly defeated all of the campers even though they were EVERYWHERE, and yet here I go to the jail. It was ridiculous.

Then I was humiliated. I, as the fastest person at camp, had clearly defeated all of the campers even though they were EVERYWHERE, and yet here these 9 year old girls were escorting me to the jail. It was ridiculous.

One of the girls then said to me: "Why are you so quiet? Are you tired?" I snapped back to reality. These girls were enjoying themselves and excited, and here I was wrapped up in my selfish thoughts in a game that was relatively unimportant. I was so worried about my wasted time and tactics that I forgot the most important part of the game: the kids. I realized that for these kids, the invincible counselor image gets old after a while. The counselor that always wins at gaga, runs faster, and does everything better is not fun. For these girls, their day was made because they caught Nate. It was something for them to brag about, and they'll remember it. I realized that overall, the a good thing for camper morale is to see me escorted to jail, because it meant that they did it- they caught me.

Good life reminder today: often the best thing for another person is not the same as the best thing for you. Which will you choose?

Have a Great Day!