Running commentary

The weather forecast called for rain and wind with high temperatures in the 80s to go along with the regular humidity of August in South Korea, but I went on a 30-mile bike ride anyway.

As I headed up and over the hill toward the Gapcheon River bike path, the familiar excitement of being "one of the few" to brave the outdoors despite the wet and wind caused me to smile. I may have even let out a whoop of joy.

There is something deeply satisfying about embracing challenges that are totally optional. Who would know or care if you decided to stay in bed an extra hour or watch a movie instead of gearing up and stepping into whatever lies outside the door?

This bike ride reminded me of the days when I could run for miles and miles. I suppose that being in my fifties makes it impossible to deny that the only way I am going to travel as far under my own power nowadays is by bicycle. Still, the feeling of adventure was exactly the same.

A few years ago, I ran into a childhood friend, Jerry, whose son was running in the cross-country meet I was hosting out at Cold Springs Campground. We were both surprised to cross paths and began to reminisce. He said, "It doesn't surprise me that you are coaching young runners, because when you were in high school, you were a running fool!"

Jerry lived about 10 miles outside my small hometown and was referring to seeing me running alone out on those country roads at all times of the year in under all conditions. His comment to me that day affirmed for me the mystery non-runners grapple with: "Why on earth do people run, especially when it's not very nice outside?"

Indeed, why is it that on a day with howling winds and driving rain in late fall four years ago did my wife say, "Let's take the dogs and run on the Scott Mountain Trail?"  

What is it that compelled a group of Sisters cross-country runners to load into cars late at night, drive up toward Windy Point and run up and over the summit of the McKenzie Pass in the dark?

Or how about the teacher who straps on her Yak Tracks in January and ventures out onto the snowy roads and trails of Sisters long before the sun is up?

That Scott Mountain Trail is still one of our best running memories. Water streamed down the trail. The wind in the trees sounded like an arena full of people all saying "Ooooooooh" continuously. Mud covered our legs and rain soaked us.

And we knew we would not be seeing anyone else.

Back to my bike ride yesterday. Typically, Korean cyclists are not very interactive with strangers, especially foreigners, but there was definitely a camaraderie among the few of us biking through the edge of a tropical storm. Nearly every one of the riders I encountered either waved or nodded and smiled knowingly, sort of saying, "Isn't this awesome!"

I had intended to ride for about 90 minutes, but my exhilaration carried me twice that far. I arrived back at my apartment soaked with sweat and rain and feeling very satisfied.

Legendary Oregon track coach and Nike co-founder Bill Bowerman reportedly used to tell his athletes, "There is no such thing as bad weather, just weak people." He, of course, was helping prepare his athletes for competition and didn't want the weather to negatively factor into their approach to the race. I use his motto for the days like the bike ride when it would be much more comfortable to not head out the door.