Confessions of a streak runner

I did not run today.

The last time I could accurately type or say that sentence was on June 27, 1998. For those keeping score at home, that was 4,837 days ago.

The streak ends today – Saturday, September 24, 2011. Mostly on my own terms. But a consecutive days’ running streak rarely ends on one’s own terms. The streak takes on a life of its own. After 13.25 years, the life of this streak has ended. This streak has died of natural causes.

During the past few years, I have been very ambivalent about my streak. I was equal parts proud and ashamed of the streak. I was certainly proud to have plundered through all those days, months and years – through terrible weather and terrible illness, heavy rain and root canal pain, post-marathon haze and mid-summer days. I trudged through knee pains and ankle sprains, plantar fascia throbbing and calf/Achilles hobbling; bruised ribs from a nasty fall, and bruised ego from less-than-stellar racing.

But I was also slightly embarrassed to discuss the times I would jog up and down my street at 1 a.m., in the wee hours after an endless indoor track meet, just to “get the next day out of the way” so I could sleep in for a few hours before an early CYO basketball game.

Or the time I jogged around my basement for 15 minutes (in our pre-treadmill days at home) instead of dealing with the ravages of a severe thunderstorm.

Or the time I was half-asleep and jogged around the parking lot of the Poughkeepsie Train Station for 15 minutes in street clothes, waiting for Greg Salamone to arrive from Syracuse on an extremely delayed train after finals were over, to run in the IC4A 10,000-meter race the next day.

Or when my wife Heidi was going into labor with our first child, and she implored me to “go out and get my run in” at 6:30 a.m., not knowing how long the labor would last. Our other two children were born early in the morning, leaving plenty of time to get a run in later in the day.

Yes, that’s right. The streak was longer and older than my three children.

The streak pre-dates 9/11.

The streak went through three leap years.

When I started the streak, the Marist Running Class of 2002 was just graduating high school. They are now married, with children, and coaching high school athletes all over the Northeast. I’m proud of all of them.

When I started the streak, the current freshmen on our team had not yet entered kindergarten.

When I started the streak, gas prices were under $1.00 (I think; I didn’t look it up, but it was pretty darn close).

I have a long history with streak running. My first streak started the day after Memorial Day in 1983. It lasted for a little less than 2 years, including a “streak within a streak” in which I doubled 5 days per week for the first 6 months of it. A nasty flu bug forced me to call it quits on that first streak. Silly me. The older streak-runner in me surely would have coughed and wheezed through such trivialities.

After four days off to recuperate, I immediately started another streak, which lasted more than 9 months. Again, a flu curtailed that one. And that was that for my streak running days. Until 1998.

Why I started this beast of a streak has become hazy through these nearly 5,000 days. I remember running a disappointing (for me) marathon in San Diego back in June 1998. After a few post-marathon days of hanging out with Marist Running Alum Todd “Lurch” Coulson in the San Diego area, I decided to get going on a streak upon arriving home.

If I recall properly, I was thinking about going for a year. One year came, and I figured I’d keep going. And going. And going. And going.

As I said, the past few years have gotten more complicated, and the streak became as much of a burden as a point of pride. But the longer it went, the more I realized there was no way I would just stop it … “just because.”

I often joked that the only things that would stop me were: 1. A broken bone; 2. Hospitalization; 3. Death.

Since I’m typing this, #3 clearly didn’t end this; but it was a bizarre combination of #1 (sort of, but not really) and #2 (sort of, but not really, either) that brought me to this point.

Without going into much detail here about my most recent issues, let it be known that I COULD HAVE RUN today. Should have? Most certainly not. But again, such criteria never stopped me before.

Today, for the first time in a long while, I was smart. The decision was made earlier in the week. I knew the potential circumstances, and I made peace with the end of the streak. Yes, there is some sadness – even a touch of depression. But mostly, this streak comes to a natural end, and I can remain proud of it.

For the record, I do not recommend streak running. I have long preached the value of recovery. And never taking a day off does not equate to full recovery. Ever. So for many years, it was a “do as I say and not as I do” proposition.

Also, for the record: Mine was by no means a monumental streak, such as the ones you can see and read about at www.runeveryday.com.

My good friend and running partner Eric had a longer streak – by more than a year. Dick Vincent, a local running acquaintance who has done so much for the sport through the years, had a streak that lasted more than 30 years.

So my 13.25-year streak was not that big a deal, in the overall scheme of these things. But it was to me. It was a part of me; it was a part of who I am, and I will miss it.