What’s the Grit in Your Life?

Let me start off by saying that what I’ve written is not profound, novel or unique. Similar things have certainly been written in the past by men and women who are much more eloquent with the pen than me. I didn’t intend to write this at all when it transpired, but earlier in the week while reading Mad Genius by Randy Gage, a short paragraph struck me and I knew I had to put this “down on paper”. Randy says “Creativity requires courage: courage to explore ideas and instincts no matter how quirky they may be; to create a connection between two seemingly disparate elements [right brain and left brain]; courage to put it out in the world.” So, this may seem quirky, but I felt led to share it, not to mention that my One Word is Deeper and I’ve had a lot of deep thought about this experience.
As many of you know, I ran I ran my first half-marathon about 8 weeks ago, the Shamrock at Virginia Beach. My goal was to finish under 2 hours, but I started off too fast out of the gate. I didn’t discipline myself in the early miles of the race and stuck with the crowd, most of which were in better shape and more experienced than me. By the time I reached mile 8, it turned into a run/walk. I finished with a 2:07, which was disappointing from the perspective that I didn’t meet my goal, but not bad for rookie who couldn’t run a block 16 months ago, and it was a great learning experience.
Within a day or two after the race, the group I ran with decided to sign up for the half marathon at Sunset beach. It’s part of the Big Ass Medal Series and it’s a great event because there aren’t a lot of runners, maybe 500, and all you have to do is cross the finish line and receive a Big Ass Medal. This time, my strategy was different. I was going to focus on my pace through mile 8, trying not to overdo it and burn myself out, and then kick it up a notch the last few miles. My goal was to finish with a better time than the Shamrock and not have to run/walk for 5 miles.
Four of us lined up at the start line near the back of the pack. When the race started, the pack started moving towards the Start line, everyone checking their Garmins, trying to start them the moment they crossed the line, YHC included. The race was on and the 3 runners that were with me pulled away. I learned my lesson last time, and as tempting as it was to pull away and keep up with them, I knew (hoped) my discipline would pay off. After a mile or so, I saw the 2:15 pacer with an entourage packed tightly behind him, spanning the width of the road. “Maintain pace” I told myself, “you’re at mile 1 and already approaching the 2:15 pacer. Certainly you can catch the 2:00 pacer in the next 12 miles.” Maintain pace I did. I found my groove and stuck with it. Things felt good. I wasn’t struggling to breath, my ankle didn’t hurt, my hamstring felt good, and Eric Church was jamming in my earbuds. I was in the ZONE. Things were good. I was enjoying the scenery and I was enjoying the run. Everything was cool (metaphorically, that is, because it was HUMID).
And then it happened….somewhere around mile 6. “What is that?” I thought to myself. “Where did this discomfort in my left toes come from?” My next thought was to ignore it, not get distracted, and stay in the ZONE. Which I did….for about 30 secs. Discomfort was turning to irritation and I was getting more uncomfortable. I wasn’t that far from the last water station where I had slowed down to hydrate. I couldn’t afford to lose any time. I was on pace, on track, and I needed to forge ahead. Which I did…for about 30 more secs. That’s when I realized I had a couple of blisters forming on my toes. Worse yet, I could feel some grit in my sock around my toes. Somehow grit had gotten into the cuff of my sock, worked its way down to my toes and created some small blisters. I had two options at this point – take the time to deal with the grit, clean off my foot, shake out my sock, and get back into the race, or forge ahead with pure determination. As much as I hated to stop, I knew it was the right thing to do, so I ran over to one of those large green electrical boxes on the side of the road, propped myself up, took my shoes and sock off and quickly wiped the grit from between my toes and then shook my sock out before quickly putting it and my shoe back on. I may have lost 60 seconds at the most. Once again, I was comfortable. It wasn’t long before I was back in the ZONE, Eric Church still jamming away. We were on a main road, and I was near the centerline, slowly and methodically passing those who had passed me during my stop. One minute lost wasn’t bad. I could make that time up and still meet my goal. Things were good. I was enjoying the scenery and I was enjoying the run. Everything was cool once again.
And then it happened…somewhere around mile 8. What is that?” I thought to myself. “Where did this discomfort behind the ball of my left foot near my arch come from?” My next thought was to ignore it, not get distracted, and stay in the ZONE. Which I did….for about 30 secs. Discomfort was turning to irritation and I was getting more uncomfortable. But this didn’t feel like grit in my sock. I wasn’t sure what was causing the discomfort so I decided to just push through it. Unfortunately, about a half mile later I realized I had a blister about the size of a half dollar just behind the ball of my foot. At this point, I wasn’t sure what caused it, but I couldn’t feel any grit and I knew that if I stopped, things would probably get much worse when I resumed. So, I pushed through.
Around mile 10 I approached a runner who had a shirt on with some type of mudrun advertisement on the back. I pulled out an earbud and asked him if he was a “murunner.” He told me he was and I asked him if he had ever heard of F3 as I pointed to the logo on my white camo F3 shirt. He hadn’t, so I told him a little bit about it. He continued to run along side of me for the better part of a mile and we made some small talk. I told him it was good meeting him and talking to him, but I was going to have to slow down because I was nursing a large blister. He slowed his pace with me, telling me that he was there alone and had no specific goal in mind. As we talked more and he learned about my goal finishing with a faster time than my previous race, he told me that he was sticking with me and going to help me reach that goal. He did exactly that. He stuck with me. We had to cross the bridge from Sunset Beach to the mainland at the 3rd mile in the race and had to cross back over around Mile 10-1/2. As we approached the top, I told him I was going to have to walk for a minute. He wouldn’t let me. I slowed down, but we didn’t walk. As we came over the top of the bridge, the sign for mile 11 was in site. “Two miles left,” he said. “You’ve got it.” We continued pushing on. I was struggling. The blister on my foot hurt and my calves were on fire, but he wouldn’t let me walk more than about 5 steps and he’d push me to continue running. True to his word, he stuck by my side. He wasn’t breaking a sweat or struggling in the least. He knew I needed a distraction and continued to make conversation. At one point he asked me if I ever practiced my breathing techniques. “No, I’m just trying to survive,” I told him. In all honesty, I probably would have run/walk the last mile if it hadn’t been for his encouragement. As we approached the finish line, I began to pick up the pace, giving it everything I had. I knew he had plenty left himself, as he had been taking it easy the last 3 miles, but he let me pull ahead of him and he finished a few steps behind me. Thomas was his name. He lives in Jacksonville, NC and serves in the Marines. I thanked him for his service to our country and I thanked him for sacrificing his time to stay by my side during my struggle to reach the finish.
My chip time was 2:08. It’s not what I wanted, but I didn’t have to run/walk like I did during my first half marathon, and I did enjoy the first 6 miles much more than any other miles I had ever run. There was victory and celebration in that, as well as spending time with a fine, selfless Marine.
But that’s not where the story ends. In fact, that’s not even the story I want to tell. It’s simply the framework for the story……
Isn’t my experience similar to the marathon we know as life? Somehow along our journey, grit gets inside, and we choose to ignore it, not wanting to deal with it or not wanting to be bothered. Over time it continues to wear on us. If we choose not to deal with it, or don’t deal with it adequately and effectively, it becomes bigger, more substantial, and more problematic, not only hindering our movement and slowing our progress, but also distracting us from the enjoying the journey as we fight to reach the end, often feeling torn up and defeated.
If the small nagging things aren’t effectively dealt with early, they can become larger in scale and more problematic in the future, continuing to cause pain and struggle, just as grit in my sock would have caused much more pain and struggle had I not stopped to deal with it. Unfortunately, I haphazardly put my sock back on. I believe it got twisted, causing a ribbed section to rub just behind the ball of my foot. My haste to save a few seconds resulted in lost minutes and ultimately distracted me from enjoying the final miles of my race. Life is no different. Haphazardly deal with the grit and it will continue to nag and distract as you trudge down the road, so much so that you no longer enjoy the experience, and your focus is no longer the journey, but the grit.
Fortunately for me, I struck up a conversation with the Marine named Thomas who was selfless enough to sacrifice his time for the sake of sticking with me and “running me in,” while trying to distract me and inspire me along the way. I’m thankful and grateful for sacrifice he made to stick by my side during my time of need, even though at that point, I didn’t think I needed anyone by my side. In the same way, I’m thankful for the many men of F3 who I’ve built friendships and relationships with over the past 16 months, because I know that these men are just as selfless during my time of need and will make the necessary sacrifices to stick by me or any other brother’s side, sacrificing his own comfort and own goals to “run him in.”
So I ask, what is the grit in your shoe? What isn’t yet a big problem, but needs to be cleaned up to allow you to enjoy the journey ahead instead of weighing on your mind and distracting you? Is it a life experience, your job, propensity for addiction, pornography, finances, abuse, anger, or a failed relationship? I challenge you to think about it. I challenge you to identify it. I challenge you to reach out to a friend or F3 brother that can help run you in. I challenge you to do this so you can free yourself of the grit that’s distracting you so that you can refocus on the journey and live life to the fullest!