Greed

 

Much of competitive running is about a balance, a way of straddling the line between successful sustainability and stupidity, even injury, without leaning too far into the latter.  Finding where that line exists takes time and experimenting. The line itself isn’t stagnant—it changes with time just as everything else.

 

 

 

But isn’t a change what we’re chasing?  A change in fitness, strength, confidence?  Very rarely will you find a runner who is undoubtedly satisfied with their work and assured that they have reached the end of their potential.  This word, “potential” that we throw around is as tangible as the gold at the end of the rainbow; we’re never quite sure where it is but if you squint hard enough, it could be off in the distance.

 

 

A person’s athletic potential depends so heavily on a multitude of factors.  What are their resources, their work ethic, and their willingness to sacrifice?  Training is not forgotten here, but left out with purpose.  A runner could be handed a plan to follow, guaranteed to plunge them as close to their end as possible, but if they don’t want to work, don’t see the worth in sacrifice, and don’t reach out to available resources, the plan is nothing but an idealistic thought.  Is it greed that causes us to want the best plan even if we won’t follow through with X, Y, Z to execute it?

 

 

Humans are predisposed to fall into the trap of greed.  While finances, material goods, and love come to mind initially, there is a great deal of greed involved in the runner’s training.  Hit a few weeks at a new mileage, continue to bump it up, things don’t feel good but they don’t feel terrible either; keep climbing.  Recovery comes quickly when maybe it shouldn’t, but continuously pressing the gas doesn’t hurt as much as maybe it should; keep pressing.  Speedy runs boost the moral, and who is to say something is bad if in the moment it feels right; keep reaching.

 

 

Initial benefits mask your perception and pull you under like a riptide.  You’re staggering over the line.  An ache becomes a pain, fatigue becomes a plague.

 

 

Plunging into intensity is not the answer, and actually, there is no one “answer” for the mass population.  A runner must form their own concoction for success: a combination between mileage, key workouts, stride emphasis, strength, nutrition, and sleep, maintaining a balance between the components that does not dampen the benefits of one another.  For instance, greedy jumps in mileage may weigh down track sessions, where as too many days on the track can impede the mileage.

 

 

 

Tailoring the regime to fit as close to this line of greed without draping over its border is a skill many runners fail to perfect.  Fit the training to be too far below and desired results will seem impossible to achieve, but fit it too far over and the risk of injury and breakdown starts to pull the work deep into a hole.  It takes years to build strong mileage, multiple plans before “unattainable” goals become the next exit in the road. Consistently, yet gradually pushing the line back takes patience, an oath to not fall victim to greed’s grip.  It’s a process, mastery if you will, but with persistent patience and a little belief, a balanced regime will be there to point you to your gold.

 

 

Living Below the Poverty Line

When you’re young, a twenty dollar bill seems like a ticket that can take you just about anywhere.  When you’re 23, fresh out of undergrad, and barely taking home 18k in a year, a twenty gains a new level of appreciation.  Instead of dropping the whole Jackson within 10 minutes at the mall, it’s a matter of stretching it to cover groceries for a week, or putting it into the shoe fund when 400 miles have long passed on the soles.  This isn’t an exaggerated example, this is my reality.

 

 

As a high school student, I was promised a future after college.  I was told that getting a degree would mean getting a job, living with reasonable comfort, and doing the whole “adult” work schedule habitually.  I followed suit.  I went to a great school, got a degree in the sciences, and graduated with a decent GPA.  Where has that gotten me?  2% below the poverty line.

 

 

Since graduating in December ‘15, I’ve worked an average of 50 hours/week between a full-time, degree-oriented position and a part-time job to make up for the low pay rate.  There were weeks in the spring where I logged over 70 hours between both jobs because I knew my car insurance bill was approaching, or I was planning a trip and didn’t want to sink myself with the flight costs.  I paid my dues in college, I did what I was supposed to, yet I’m still finding myself financially suppressed.

 

 

So how do I (and so many others) make a change?  “Go back to school.”  Go back?  But what if I’m not ready or don’t know what I’d specialize in or can’t afford to take out any more loans or couldn’t take the hit of not working at least 40 hours each week?

 

 

Are we S.O.L.?

 

As with most questions in my life right now, I’m working on that answer.  The unfortunate reality is that many of the questions from above describe where I’m at.  For the moment, I don’t want to go back for another degree, I’m not decisive about what I’d go back for, and between my wonderful lump of loans from my bachelor’s degree and the burden of financially supporting myself,  I couldn’t survive off the grad-student stipend.  After rent, utilities, groceries, car, health insurance, loan payments (while they can be deferred, I don’t want to be 35 and still dealing with them), I’d be living month-to-month with very little leniency for expanding the budget.

 

 

How are we supposed to be gearing up for life’s next steps if we’re barely able to save up for them?  And how on earth have we gotten to a place where a bachelor’s degree only gets you an entry-level position?

 

 

It’s frustrating to feel stunted when I just want to excel.  I’m not looking to be handed a 6-figure paying position, I just want to stay afloat and not ration out beans and rice.  I want to be able to plan a couple trips each year, and not work two jobs just to survive.  I’m not the biggest fan on going back to school just to fill the time void, and I don’t think another degree is necessarily the answer to the Holy Grail.  Too many of my friends are in a similar situation to mine; they work their butts off just to scrape by and it makes my blood boil that this is what things have come to.  I wish I would have known that 4.5 years of college was just going to leave me $35k in the hole and working two jobs.  I wish grad school wasn’t shoved down my throat.  I wish things would change.

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Poverty estimate taken from the state of Ohio’s 2016 poll.

 

*Graduate stipend estimate based on $1200/month.

Confessions of an Only Child: Tae Kwon Do

Episode 5:

 

Getting kids involved in different activities is important.  Not only for their development of social and athletic skill, but who is to know their kid is a Picasso or Messi if they’re never coaxed into trying it first?  Getting involved is especially crucial for the only child.  A chance to interact with kids their own age, while forcing them out of their comfort zone, and away from the yard with their imaginary friends.

 

My childhood was filled with various summer camps.  Ballet, soccer, tennis, volleyball, swimming.  Probably the worst summer camp I ever did was cheerleading.  A complete flop for my cheer career, but figuring out that cheerleading is bullshit after ten minutes on the first day might just be in my list of top 5 accomplishments.

 

In 1999 my mom enrolled me in tae kwon do.  I started as a white belt with my then friend Alex and we moved up in the color rankings together.  Well, up until she got her teeth knocked out while sparring and then we switched to a different school.  This new place (dojang) was a larger, more structured program, led by Master Kang: the scariest yet smallest man I have and will ever meet.  Tae kwon do is an athletic activity to a point, but it’s more about control, discipline, and form.  While the old gym taught me general moves and self defense, Master Kang drove into us proper form and discipline.  This was something I wasn’t used to and for 3 years, the fear I had for Master Kang controlled 2 hours of my life, three times a week.

 

Tests to move up to the next level of tae kwon do were taken very seriously.  They were once a month on Saturdays and involved general movements, a form test, sparring, and most involved kicking or punching through a piece of wood.  In 2001 I went for my black belt, which was even more regimented than the normal belt testings.  It has to be filmed and sent to South Korea to be overlooked in order to pass.  Little 9-year old me passed (with flying colors I presume) and I received one of the highest rankings in martial arts: first degree black belt status.  I continued to train and help with classes for the next 8 or so months, but ended up not going for my second degree black belt.  We weren’t living as close to the dojang at that time and I was losing interest in it.  Also, I couldn’t have too much badass-ness or the other kids would have just been jealous.  (Just kidding, I rarely told anyone I was involved in martial arts).

 

My mom also eventually befriended  Master Kang’s wife and the fear somewhat slipped away, but not enough for it to dissipate completely.

 

 

 

Pictures:   Brown belt to Red belt ceremony, Master Kang pictured (2000).

 

Sparring as a Black belt in 2002.