This Year...

I can't believe the shape I'm in. Okay actually I can because I haven't really trained, or even ran for that matter, in almost a year. It's sadly humiliating to run (or jog really, since that would be the more truthful term) around Muncie going at such a sluggish pace, my arms up tight around my chest instead of swinging loosely, my stride short and my willpower weak. I'm in desperate need of some serious training. I'm in need of patience if I ever want to get back to the shape I was once in. I'm in need of determination, willpower, and a realistic sense that I may never see a sub-20 5k ever again.

More importantly, I'm in need of some faith.

I just finished reading The Perfect Mile by Neal Bascomb. It's taken me a year to read that book. It's not because it's particularly long, or that I didn't have enough time to read it. Surely my free reading almost comes to a complete halt when school starts. Sometimes I'm lucky to have the time to read the latest Rolling Stone issue. But the reason I couldn't finish the book is because it was boring me. This great novel about two of the greatest sporting events in history (Bannister's sub 4 minute mile at Oxford and the "mile of the century" race between Bannister and Landy) bored me. Yes, Neal Bascomb did like to throw in a lot of detail I didn't need to know about (I really don't care that Stampfl's wife was brewing a pot of tea while Bannister and him chatted away), but I'm well-aware that the real reason behind my on-again-off-again love with this book is what I've been experiencing in my life: my on-again-off-again relationship with running.

For the past two years I've experienced hot and cold feelings with my beloved sport, mostly cold. After high school the desire to run just crashed. I'm not really sure what it was. Maybe all that running, with only a few weeks break between when one season ended and conditioning began, burned me out. Maybe it was something physical, maybe my body needed a break. I wanted to run the Flying Pig half-marathon this year, and the first long run I attempted for my training ended with an injured knee and an appointment with physical therapy. Maybe my body was rejecting running. Maybe I ran out of motivation. Maybe the adjustment from high school running, where everything is so structured, to my newfound freedom of college running was too much for me to handle. Maybe without the team and the coaching and all the scheduled meets and practice, I was bound to fall to pieces.

I remember after high school ended how excited I was to know that I had the rest of my life to work with running on my own. For once, I was in charge. I got to decide what races to sign up for, what distances they were and what my goal was. I got to decide how I was going to train; when and where, how hard to push myself or how easy to go. I was so excited to be in charge. To be my own coach.

I should've known how difficult it was going to be.

In The Perfect Mile there are three runners all vying to accomplish the same goal, and they were all vying to achieve it before anyone else: the sub-4 minute mile. Of course it happened, and if you know anything about the history of running, you're probably well aware that Roger Bannister was the first to do it. But why him? Why couldn't Wes Santee do it first, or John Landy? Why after so many years, when conditions on that day weren't even very favourable, he was finally able to achieve his goal? After all his attempts before, what was so different?

It's pretty simple actually. He had a coach.

Meet Franz Stampfl, an Austrian who was kicked out of England during World War II, had to swim for his life when the ship he was being deported on sank, and then struggled in confinement in Australia. The brief summary I'm giving you isn't doing enough justice to the man. Trust me on this when I say you can define the man in one-word: badass.

After his unfortunate time spent in Australia he returned to England to coach athletes. And luckily for Roger Bannister, a friend of his introduced him to this coach.

The secret behind Stampfl's success, especially when it came to Roger Bannister, isn't a difficult training technique or some genius idea. In my opinion, it's the simple difference between what separates good coaches from bad ones: Stampfl believed in him. Stampfl believed that Roger Bannister had it in him, that he could break through the four-minute mile, and that he could be the first to do it. He showed his confidence in Roger Bannister, and then it was up to Bannister to believe in himself.

It worked.

It's not just athletes who can give credit to coaches for their success. One of my favorite quotes comes from Sting's autobiography, Broken Music, at a time of his life when he was just in the beginning stages of becoming a musician. In reference to his friend Keith, he says, "Maybe all it takes is just one person to believe in what you are doing to give you the confidence to keep trying." His friend wasn't literally a coach, but he showed faith in Sting that encouraged him to continue forward with his music. The man owns like seven houses in several different countries and is still successful writing music and touring with orchestras. But who knows. Maybe if it hadn't been for his friend, Sting would've thrown in the towel and continued with his teaching career. I like to think that it's the little things, the little influences that make a difference.

I had a coach in high school. In fact I've had several coaches. I had my running coach, who helped me with my running. I had my dad, who was always on the sidelines supporting me. I have my professors who are teaching me the craft of journalism, my boss who taught me patience and persistence (and to keep in mind the grand scheme of things). I have friends who are there to support me on a religious level. My close girlfriends are always giving me relationship advice. And my boyfriend, who is always there to remind me that my world isn't falling apart, no matter how much I believe that this time it really is.

Coaches are great. We need them. We need that one person to give us the confidence to keep trying. We need people to believe us.

I think my problem is though I've relied too much on my coaches. I've gotten so comfortable with others having confidence in me that I've forgotten to have confidence in myself. That without a voice telling me that I can do it and everything will be okay, I buckle, and think that if no one else is telling me it's going to be okay then it really isn't going to be.

This is the year that changes. This is the school year that I stop depending on others for their faith in me, and learn to have some faith in myself. This is the year I tell myself to push harder on a training run, not a coach. This is the year I don't need to have several talks with my professors on how I'm doing in my classes. Whether it's running or writing or friendships and drama or whatever else that is bound to be a bump in the road this year, I'm determined to have the faith in myself to get through it. I will be my own coach. This year will be the year where my voice is the one to tell me that I can do it and everything will be okay.

And of course when my little voice fails, I know who to call on to help me through it.