Around the World in 14 Years

Antique_World_Map_by_Nekarius

Let’s get one thing straight: circumnavigation isn’t easy.

Ferdinand Magellan’s expedition took 3 years to sail around the world; the man himself killed due to his own arrogance and ineptitude in the Philippines. Likewise, Francis Drake spent 3 years and 3 months trying to prove “anything a Portuguese sailing for Spain can do, an Englishman can do better,” failing only because of his secret mission to find the Atlantis of the Sands in the Rub’ al Khali for Queen Elizabeth the First. Wait. Strike that. Naughty Dog’s Uncharted series is about as accurate as Wikipedia, albeit far more interesting. What is certain is that these men faced challenges like no other: uncertain winds, brutal climates, and native peoples. Add to these the “normal” threats of mutiny, debilitating disease, and the very real possibility of starvation, and going once around the world was no picnic by half.

Modern circumnavigators have it no easier.

In 2002, Steve Fossett became the first person to fly around the world alone, nonstop, in any kind of aircraft; his vehicle of choice was the 10-story high balloon Spirit of Freedom. From takeoff to landing, this journey took him 14 days 19 hours 50 minutes over a course of 20,626.48 miles (33,195.10 km). Of his entire aircraft, only the capsule survived the landing; it was later given the the Smithsonian in Washington, DC. In addition to the circumnavigation record, the voyage also set a number of ballooning records: Fastest (200 miles per hour), Fastest Around the World (13.5 days), Longest Distance Flown Solo in a Balloon (20,482.26 miles), and 24-Hour Balloon Distance (3,186.80 miles).

And then there’s Jason Lewis, who traversed the world under human power. Lewis and his companion Stevie Smith mountain-biked through France, Spain and Portugal; peddled a paddle-boat across the Atlantic to Miami; roller-bladed across much of North America; and then peddled the paddle-boat from San Fransisco to Hilo, Hawaii, where Smith ended his journey. Lewis then hiked across Hawaii; paddle-boated from Hawaii to Tarawa atoll and then – along with the boat’s builder – on to the Solomon Islands. There he was joined by April Abril, who helped him cross the Coral Sea to Australia. Lewis then cycled across Australia and had to spend some time raising funds to continue his journey. Once again, Lewis took to his paddle-boat, paddling from Darwin, Australia to East Timor; there he traded his paddle-boat for a kayak, with which he traversed the Indonesian archipelago.  Landing in Singapore, he biked from Singapore to the Himalayas, where he hiked and biked to the Indian port of Mumbai. There, he was reunited with his paddle-boat and crossed the Arabian Sea to Djibouti. He faced legal problems in Africa and was forced to complete his journeys there mainly by night. Lewis finally reached Syria, where he completed the remainder of his circumnavigation by bicycle.  Most notable in an expedition beset by hazards of all types, Lewis survived two bouts of malaria, septicemia, mild schizophrenia, and a crocodile attack. The entire expedition took roughly 13 years.

Now, I haven’t come close to the accomplishments of any of these men in any respect but one: I’ve gone the distance. Using the accepted distance of 24,091.5 miles as the distance around the world at the equator, I completed my 14 year journey at 4:15 PM EST on October 10, 2013.

I began running back in the seventh grade because I didn’t make the basketball team. Although I eventually succeeded, by that time running had become my passion. There’s something soothing about the rhythm and pace of placing one foot after another for miles on end. I memorized poetry, songs, and learned to be alone with my own thoughts. In that regard, my failure to make the basketball team is also responsible for this blog.

So, what did this circumnavigation cost me? By my count, I used at least 14 pairs of shoes, 60 pairs of socks, 5 rolls of duct tape, 20 large boxes of band-aids, hundreds of Cliff energy gels, and copious amounts of water. But at least I didn’t suffer from scurvy.

CLICK HERE FOR VIDEO OF MY COMPLETION

You know you are an Ultra Runner when… ?

Many of these can apply to marathons as well. Therefore, I can relate to most of the list. Can you?

talkultra's avatarIAN CORLESS

I asked the question on Facebook and I got an incredible response. In actual fact, the answers keep coming in, so, I will try to add and update on a regular basis.

But here goes… ‘You know you are an Ultra Runner when… ?’

Look at some of the names who have posted too. A few Talk Ultra interviewees crop up.

iancorless.comP1020714

Holly Rush you consider running to your friend’s house for lunch and she lives 30 miles away…

Carl Wibberley A marathon is a training run.

Ben Wittenberg You sell your road bike to buy a Fenix gps.

Wayne Sylvester 26.2 sounds like an aid station.

George Knights you can count your toenails on one hand.

Chris Beaven You’re diagnosed with atrial fibrillation…

Ceri Careful Roberts When you’ve vomited all…

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The Why and The Wherefore: My Running Experience

IMG_0432June 5 was National Running Day. This post was intended to be published then, but for some reason it sat in the draft folder untouched and unnoticed as June 5 came and went. But, as they say, better late than never.

I suppose it all began in the 9th grade, the first year we boys were eligible for the varsity basketball team. Now, I’d been “playing” basketball since the fourth grade, but I use the term very loosely. I wasn’t very good at any aspect of the game, I was really just an extra body needed to give the real players a breather once in a while. Anyway, tryouts came, and in the end, it came down to me and my best friend. I lost. At first, I figured he was chosen since his dad worked at the school where we held practices and games. However, Coach took me aside and explained that it had come down to one deciding factor: stamina. I simply couldn’t keep up with the other players. I vowed that day to show them all what I could do.

For the next year, I tried to run at least a mile every day: in the sun, in the rain, in the snow – it didn’t matter. Somewhere in that year, my goal of making the basketball team took second place to the joy I found in running. For the first time I experience the runner’s high. I learned to love the wind in my face and the steady rhythm of my feet hitting the ground. I found comfort in my own thoughts. And when tryouts were held the next year, I could outlast them all; by my senior year, I had turned into a punishment: “You can stop running when Jay does!”

I continued to run in college; taking advantage of “proper” athletic tracks to relieve academic stress and brain fatigue. It was during my freshman year that I participated in my first organized race: the Turkey Run, an annual event held the Saturday before Thanksgiving. My first official time: 31.16. My best time would be during my senior year: 20:15. I began running longer distances, too. I’d run between 8 and 10 miles every other day and about 13 on weekends. I didn’t realize it, but I was already training myself for a half-marathon.

And then, real life got in the way. I graduated and landed a second-shift job in Quality Assurance at Moen. I began remodeling a house – a real fixer upper that had been left empty for at least 15 years. I just didn’t have time to run. No, let me be honest, I didn’t make the time to run.

8 months after graduating college, I got married; two weeks later I lost my job. I was despondent: no-one was hiring someone of my age with my limited experience. For whatever reason, my unemployment never came through. In short, I was depressed; the last thing I wanted to do was run again. After three months, I found some summer work with a general contractor. That fall, I was hired by a local school to teach social studies. Again, I just didn’t make time to run.

December 17, 2010 changed everything. It was the first day of Christmas Vacation, and I was driving across town to pick my wife up from work. An idiot distracted by his cell phone blew a red light and t-boned me in the driver’s side door with his Yukon Denali XL. I was driving a Pontiac Grand Am. Although the EMT’s first words to me were “Why aren’t you dead?” I escaped with relatively minor injuries. Nevertheless, I became extremely depressed. After several months of this, my wife was fed up with it and suggested I do something I enjoyed: get back into running.

So I did. I signed up for a marathon, and 11 months to the day of my accident I finished my first official 26.2 miles at the North Carolina Marathon (High Point, NC) in 06.13.27. I was hooked. Several months later I ran the Cherry Point Half Marathon in 2:05:19. Let me tell you, it felt good to pass a quite a few Marines in the last 2 miles, some of whom were drill sergeants. Last fall I ran the Freedom’s Run Marathon in Shepherdstown, WV in 05:29:38. In my opinion, every marathoner should try to complete this run. It’s an absolutely beautiful course with history everywhere. On November 10, I’ll be running my 3rd marathon: the Outer Banks Marathon in coastal North Carolina. My goal is to finish in 04:30:00 or less, but any time under 05:00:00 will do.

To be honest, my training has been slack. As the heat of summer approaches here in Eastern NC, it’s important to avoid heat exhaustion. Right now I can do around 10 miles no problem and push through to 15, but I really want to keep a 10 minute mile pace (or better) for the duration.

Some people don’t understand why I run. They don’t see the point in running long distances. All that effort – for what? There really isn’t a personal, tangible benefit to running a marathon. I’ll finish hours after the winner and most spectators will be gone; even the volunteers will most likely be winding down. It could be to benefit organizations such as Big Brother/Big Sister, the Wounded Warrior Project, or the Civil War Preservation Trust. However, I don’t put in long hours on the trail thinking about “the cause”. Neither do I run purely for my health: I’m strengthening my heart and lungs at the cost of my knees.

So why do I run? I run to relieve stress. I run to be alone with my thoughts. I run to once again enjoy the wind in my face and the rhythm of my feet as they hit the ground. I run for the same reason others have sailed oceans, climbed mountains, crossed deserts, and ascended into space: I run because the road is there.

Coming Unplugged: Music and Running

iPod shuffle 2nd generationI was talking to some running friends the other day when one of them brought up the subject of music. I hadn’t realized how divided the running community is over music; nearly every runner I know goes out with an mp3 player and upbeat playlist. Nevertheless, one friend’s adamant opinion that music absolutely ruins the running experience provided excellent fodder for rumination.

Right at the start, I’ll admit to favoring music; I run more with it than without it. Nevertheless, running purists make several valid points.

First, music creates risk. How often do we become “lost in the music” and fail to heed our surroundings? Distraction can be both dangerous and deadly; every runner knows this. Most pro-music runners would say “That can’t happen to me!”, but like the cautious new driver that turns into the reckless “experienced” driver, humans rely on routine. We grow familiar with our route and the world it inhabits and become complacent. Distraction and complacency are anathemas to safety; this is a special concern at intersections: drivers aren’t always looking for runners (or cyclists for that matter), and no runner wants a detour through the emergency room.

Second, music distracts from thinking. My blog is centered around my running thoughts, so this argument may have more credence with me than with others. As a society, we’ve become so used to being connected – and distracted – that we simply can’t spend time with ourselves. When running is an escape, why insist on running with the flavor-of-the-week teeny-bopper? When running is supposed to relieve stress, why bring the caustic talk radio host? I’ve heard the claims that music helps people think, but it is more accurate to say that music directs our thoughts. Do we really want the Top 40 or another political talking head to dictate what we think about? Running should be refreshing a relaxing; Justin Bieber and Rush Limbaugh are neither.

Finally, music can negate the camaraderie of running. Personally, I find this argument the least defensible since it assumes most runners belong to clubs or attend many events throughout the year. Although I am not this type of runner, I understand the sentiment. Meeting new people, learning about other parts of the world, giving and receiving tips and tricks – all of these are a part of the running experience. With earbuds planted firmly in our heads, we tend to ignore others and miss wonderful, once-in-a-lifetime opportunities.

In contrast, there are very few arguments in support of music. One valid argument is that the beats per minute (BPM) of a song can help improve one’s pace. I’ve tested this theory over the last several months by running to music with 152 BPM, and my personal pace has improved roughly 13%. I don’t know how scientific the argument is; I imagine that, like most running aids, it depends on the individual.

Personally, I think most pro-music runners’ opinions are based on preference rather than any perceived benefit. In addition to being uncomfortable with our own company, we (as a society in general) don’t like to be told what we can’t do. People everywhere, and Americans in particular, value their rights, and I think pro-music runners view their headphones as a personal freedom. Such runners see any attack on their music as an attack on them. There are even some extremists who will skip an event – even one already paid for – if headphones aren’t permitted. In my opinion, this kind of reasoning shows misplaced priorities. We don’t go to the movies to hear the soundtrack, so why treat running any different? Sometimes life is best enjoyed in the raw.

So how can the two factions get along? Well, there are a few things we can do:

  • Remember there are times when it simply isn’t smart to run with an mp3 player, such as when visibility is low or when running unfamiliar terrain. Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should. Speaking of which . . .
  • There are also times when you shouldn’t run with music, particularly when it’s prohibited. If you’ve entered such an event, then train without the iPod. Trust me, doing so will make race day easier.
  • Be excellent to one another. Coexist. Get along.  Purists, we’re all out there for the same reason, so don’t get bent out of shape when others don’t share your opinion. Music lovers, if you’re running with friends but absolutely need your tunes, try running with one earbud in – and remember to keep the volume low. You’ll still get your beat, but you’ll also enjoy running with a companion, and not everyone has that opportunity. Share the road.

So, what will I do now? Unplug more – not totally – and get back to running for running’s sake. What you do is up to you.

Until next time, get out there and enjoy the run!

What Spectators Add To The Marathon Experience

I was listening to my unheard podcast playlist and I came across this snippet from Talk of the Nation. Take some time to check it out; the audio is only 17 minutes long.

Thoughts on Boston

My first thought went out to the runners. As a marathoner myself, I understand the pure joy of simply being in a race, but this wasn’t just any other weekend marathon; this was Boston. In my opinion, the Boston Marathon is the premier long-distance race in the United States. I know everyone has that one race where they set their PR or that one vacation getaway that they go to every year. Nevertheless, there’s a reason why all races are compared to Boston: they’re either Boston Qualifiers or they’re not. I can only imagine the thrill of actually qualifying for Boston, let alone running it. These runners had trained long and hard to participate, and now many of them lay injured on the ground, some perhaps unable to ever run again.

My second thought was about the time. When I heard that the bombs exploded about 3 hours after the winners crossed the finish line, I realized “that would have been me!“. My average pace for a marathon is a little over 5 hours, so assuming that the winners would have crossed the finish line between 02:30 and 03:00, then one of those runners injured could very well have been me. And then as I thought more about the time, I realized that whoever planted this bomb had thought things through. After roughly five hours the finish line would be somewhat crowded with finishers, families, and cheer squads encouraging the somewhat slower racers. This terrorist understood how races work and used it to his advantage. The thought sickened me.

My next thought went out to the emergency personnel. It was here that America demonstrated that heroes still exist. Too often we think that heroes have some supernatural ability or multimillion-dollar tactical armor. They wear capes and disguises and live lives apart from the rest of us. And yet, as the bombs exploded and the innocent were injured and the cameras of the major news networks spread the news to every corner of the globe, we saw the true definition of heroism. A hero is simply someone who runs toward danger instead of away from it.

I’m sure that in the weeks to come more information will come to light. Perhaps other targets will be uncovered, suspects may be taken into custody, and motives become clear. But until then, the thoughts and prayers of a nation are with the people of Boston and the victims of this tragic day.

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