You have, I'll bet, considered the question, "If you had your life to live over, would you change anything?" It's the kind of question that either gets a quick response or makes people pause, take a breath, flash and sort through a million memories, weighing them carefully, one against another. Our thoughts swiftly go to bad experiences, things we regret doing, accidents, situations gone awry. We do this because we feel our lives would be better without times that are unhappy to recall. It's a stretch to think altering the good and positive things that've happened to us might be desirable.
Bear in mind it's a hypothetical question asking would you change anything and anything includes everything in your past. What's good or bad is never as black or white as we might think. What appears as mistakes can be seen as learning lessons, what we take for granted can weaken if we don't nurture, what good comes our way can make us lazy.
You're wondering, what does this have to do with running? From time to time I've wondered about the place running has in my life. I've thought about what things might be like if the series of events that led me to start running at 14 were different. (It's a sobering process). This kind of musing makes me think about all the things that've influenced and shaped me, good, bad and indifferent. What I recall makes me appreciate very much what a powerful force running has been. The sport instilled needed confidence and direction at an important time. Modest success was encouraging. So much so I gave up playing baseball after one high school season. This was a small concession because I had better than average skills.
I wouldn't change anything about my formative years, as difficult and challenging as they were. For all the things I lacked there were equal parts upbeat experiences at school and with friends. It seems prudent to think of everything that happened as I grew up as a series of lessons learned, blending the painful with the sweet. Surviving and, yes, thriving isn't too strong a way to characterize those awkward early years. How difficult things were isn't appropriate to this space. If pressed to choose, I'd want to improve on some of my fun, promising and fulfilling moments due to their transcendent balancing effect and the resulting way they set priorities in order. I wouldn't want to improve on every favorable moment in my life because there is such a thing as too much of a good thing.
Running didn't make me a better student or improve my social skills. It didn't produce harmony at home. Among the many sports I played while growing up in southern California, running was the first that didn't involve equipment or teammates. It took several weeks and cross-country meets as a high school sophomore before my team sport background meshed and clicked with this new individual pursuit. Soon, I found I had some ability and running two miles would never seem intimidating again. Small measures of what I learned through running crept into and affected my studies, how and whom I interacted with and helped me cope with trials at home. Running couldn't make everything better but it was a steady dose of self-discipline with regular tests of resolve and preparation. Running had a steadying influence. Things weren't perfect but my prospects had gained a positive direction.
I wonder sometimes about the course of events that led me to start running, then to collegiate running and next, through a former high school rival and friend, to high school coaching. It's a normal enough path yet only about 1 in 500 former high school runners travel a similar route. If I hadn't started running, I wouldn't have coached, directed or announced at a race or measured a course for certification. Without running, I might not have attended college. Without college I wouldn't be writing on running as I have now since '81. Through running I've met lots of great people, worked with plenty of hard-working officials and corresponded with some of America's leading running writers. Without running, to paraphrase Don Kardong's feelings on ice cream, all would be chaos and darkness. Like Don, I hope you see the humor and ring of truth in that notion.
I'm still selfish about my own running but pleased my interests in the sport have branched in the ways they have. I see most of what I do as a sharing experience. I try to do my part. I remind myself that in the grand scheme of things, running isn't that important. It's been mighty good to me though and I'm humbled and grateful for that. Change anything? Not me.
