The heat of early June on a mid-Missouri morning never dissipates; a fact that is clearly evident while tracing the bike-worn indent, sole after sole, down the MKT trail at 6 AM. The drops of sweat barely have time to bead, as the pounding footsteps create a river of saline, burning the eyes and soaking what little clothing droops over our fragile frames. Pure thoroughbreds in an elegant stride, our pack of tigers round the corner pushing 10 miles per hour. Toned muscles bulge and powerful hearts pound as our army of footsteps resound off the gravel in a beautiful harmony. The true meaning of both extreme power and utter exhaustion mix in a gray haze as the miles add up and the conversation stales. We are machines that run on routine, vociferously wearing down our shoes to become invincible. The sweat and pain mix with mental fortitude to create immensely powerful bodies hidden in our meager, war-torn figures. And as the sun beats down through the thicket of trees above, we press on.
The tantalizing allure of the summer grind has a very limited audience, yet it holds great rewards for those who submit to the calling and obey its strict regiment. There's just something very primitively enjoyable in the callousing of both body and mind. Call it masochistic, but chiseling an athlete from the unfit mold of early summer is downright a carnal pleasure. The willingness to submit to a goal of sweet success demands each runner to conquer the mind's unwillingness to continue. Powerful thoughts of giving up, slowing down, taking short-cuts, and slacking-off must become synonymous with the utmost perversion. The very thought of leaving a day on the holy calendar of training unmarked should send shivers of anger and self-loathing down the spine. Seemingly harmless habits such as drinking or staying out late must be vanquished, and the cravings for that triple cheeseburger must only be satiated after the toll of the Saturday long run, where 16 miles can be fairly traded for a greasy delight.
Hell on earth, some might think, as college students are supposed to be frivolous and irresponsible. "You only go to college once," is the trademark expression handed down from every graduate as a justification for overindulging. However, I've had the chance to be a pure college student. I got to experience partying on a Tuesday, taking Jaeger bombs and playing video games all night, and squandering both athletics and academics to fully immerse myself in all that is "frat-tastic." But none of those quick-fix, immediate gratification antics hold a candle to the pure euphoria extruded from the summer grind. What I "miss out on" while opting to take a nap to heal my tattered body means nothing in comparison to what I would discard by giving up running. Through injuries, depression, and countless reasons to quit, I remain steadfast to my goals. If there is one thing I've truly learned in my whirlwind of a life, is that the most basic and necessary form of happiness comes from becoming who you set out to be. I am a runner, and with the summer that brings a glorious break from workouts, school, and extra stress, my essence will finally be realized. Footstep by footstep. Mile by mile. Morning by morning. The mighty walls built between me and my Jericho will eventually fall.
"Be resolutely and faithfully what you are; be humbly what you aspire to be." -Henry David Thoreau
