Epic Sh*t

Today it’s referred to as Epic Sh*t.   In layman’s terms it means facing your fears, taking calculated risks and living life to the fullest.

It didn’t used to be called that.  It used to be called—simply—life.

Here’s an example from my younger days:

My entire life I’ve never been a good swimmer.  Imagine my surprise (read: intense trepidation) when I was only 12 years old and required to swim an entire mile as part of a Boy Scout program.  Considering that up until then the furthest I had ever swam was one length of the local pool (25 yards), swimming 70 times as far was as close to facing my demons as I ever hope to be.  (I also fear heights, falling out of an airplane and drinking tequila but I have no intentions of facing them in this lifetime…or in the case of the tequila, facing again.)  While I have no memory of how long it took me to swim those 70 lengths of the pool, I remember vividly not being able to pull myself out of the water afterwards, my arms rendered worthless after dog paddling for an hour or two (perhaps even three).  The bottom line is this: For a 12-year old boy with limited abilities in all things aquatic, swimming one entire mile was indeed Epic Sh*t…although in 1967 the person who coined the phrase probably hadn’t even been born.      

My love for running has taken me on quite a few adventures that might fall into the category of Epic Sh*t.  Some of them were initially nothing more than Epic Fails, but then again I’ve never been particularly good at failure, losing or taking ‘no’ for an answer so I gave them a second chance.  Consider it as my character flaw.  (Yes, I have only one if you don’t count my total detachment from reality as another.)  Regardless, they all met the Epic Sh*t requirements: I was facing my fears, taking calculated risks and living life to the fullest. 

As for the Epic Fails:

Epic Fail #1 – Initial Attempt at Running across Georgia (280 miles over the course of seven days).  On the morning of the fourth day, after three days, four hours and 159 miles I took out the white flag and surrendered.  Actually it was my legs that surrendered (or perhaps my spirit; can’t remember as this happened in 1982).  Ten years later I returned to the scene of the crime, only this time I covered all 280 miles.  It took six days. 

Epic Fail #2 – Initial Attempt at the Western States Endurance Run (2004).  After 62 miles and 18 hours, with only 38 miles left to run and a generous 12 hours remaining in which to finish, I pulled out the white flag for the second time in my life and called it quits.  Again, my legs were responsible (or perhaps my spirit, can’t remember as I was comatose within seconds once I officially removed myself from the race).  Two years later I returned, completing the 100 miles in a little over 30 hours and finishing in dead last in a race that over half of the field failed to finish for a multitude of reasons, most noticeably the unfavorable conditions encountered on the course (as if 100 miles of mountain trails alone wasn’t difficult enough there was snow, melting snow, extreme heat and dust so thick you could cut if with a knife).   

As for Epic Sh*t, I often wonder if I don’t do some of the things I do because they make for a good story.  Running 135 miles in 130+ degree heat in Death Valley…running 54 miles in South Africa 12 hours after being robbed at knife point…running a marathon in Honolulu with the (Epic Fail) intent of making it my last marathon…starting the Peachtree Road Race from (literally) the back row and passing countless thousands of runners in the 6.2 miles between Atlanta’s Lenox Square and Piedmont Park. 

If these all qualify as Epic Sh*t, so be it, but that was never the original intent.   The intent was simply to prove to myself that I could. 

While I have accepted the fact that my days of True Epic Sh*t are behind me, I couldn’t help  being inspired by the accomplishments of two friends of mine in the past week, making me consider going to the well one more time before calling it a day:

·      Joe, who ran an amazing 606 miles in a six-day race in Hungary, beating his closest competitor (literally) by just over 100 miles.

·      Dave, who was recognized for his lifetime mileage total reaching a whopping 172,000 miles (and still going strong).       

That is indeed some Epic Sh*t.

I realize my days of long, fast(ish) runs are behind me.  I’m now a full generation removed from sub-2:50 marathons.  I’ll never finish a 100-mile race again on the same day I started; in all likelihood I’ll probably never run another 100-mile race, period.  Top 1,000 finishes at Peachtree—once a sure bet are now out of the question, lest there I have a complete reversal of fortune with the various ailments affecting my legs and lower back, not to mention my psyche.

Yes, Joe and Dave fascinated me.  They also inspired me.

I’m going to do one last run and I’m going to do it with both guns a-blazing.  It may not be pretty, it may not be fast and it most definitely won’t hold a torch to what Joe and Dave accomplished.  But if things go well it could be one last attempt for me to achieve Epic Sh*t.

I just hope it doesn’t turn out to be an Epic Dump. 

Time will tell.