I just wrote a column that I will be submitting to be published in the newspaper I work for. It sounds a lot like a few previous post that I have recently done, but it will be new to the eyes of the readers of my newspaper. I am posting it here to get some feedback and constructive criticism before I do actually submit it.
A quick background. A few weeks ago, a writer did a short article on me. How I ended up in Buffalo, WY, how I ended up at the paper and my love for running. Kind of an introduction of me to the town.
Here’s what I wrote just now and I am open to comments on what everyone thinks and things that would make it better. Thanks in advance for reading and for any help I receive!
If you read our January 8th edition, you might have come across the story Nick Spanos wrote about me called ‘Joey from Georgia.’ If you did read it, you would have learned that I am big into running and that I am training for the Bighorn 100 in June.
The life of a long distance runner boils down to the act of making sacrifices. For it to work out you have to understand that nights out with friends will be limited, you will miss out on the inside jokes that went on a certain night and feel a little left out when you find out that your friends also went to your favorite restaurant without you.
Eight o’clock on a Friday night takes on a whole new meaning.
You might be finishing up your meal at the Bozeman Trail or just ordering your first beer at the Clear Creek Brewery.
I’m getting into bed.
Five a.m. sometimes comes too quickly. And depending on how your night went, I might be getting up before you even make it to your bed.
It sometimes is hard to just get myself to open my eyes at this time in the morning, but when I remember why I am doing it, it isn’t long before I am putting on my running tights, zipping up my winter jacket, double layering on gloves and then heading out the door.
The first few steps are always slow and stiff feeling.
The breath is visible with every exhale and it doesn’t take long for the moisture in my nose to start to freeze up or the moisture from my breathe to solidify into tiny ice drops on my eye lashes.
The town is dead quiet and peaceful. Getting on the Klondike Rd. Trail and leaving the light polluted air, the black darkness opens up above with a blanket of stars flickering above like tiny flashlight beams light years away.
The open sky this route provides is incredible. More often than not, a handful of shooting starts blaze across for a few seconds before dying.
By the time I’m halfway through my run, the sun begins to poke above the horizon to the east. A deep orange fades into a light blue. Then the blue fades to the black that still hangs over the west.
Slowly the whole sky is light and the mountains have turned a wonderful purple from the perfect blend of snow and sunlight.
Such natural beauty is unique and irreplaceable and can only increase one’s appreciation for life.
It adds to the accomplishment of finishing a two-hour run with sore legs, heavy breathing and sweat that stings the eyes.
All of this is before most people wake up Saturday morning. Before people even open their eyes and are still dreaming of a wonderful world, I have already lived my dream world in what I love to do.
Was the sacrifice worth it?
Absolutely. And I will do it every day, every week and every year as long it is my love for running that keeps me thirsty for life.