Life (and running) is not all about time but about our experiences along the way.
Recognize your victories.
You train best where you are the happiest.
I have learned that there is no failure in running, or in life, as long as you keep moving. It's not about speed. And gold medals. It's about refusing to be stopped. you might find that one particular direction proves difficult, but there are many directions on a compass. Infinite, in fact. As long as you keep searching, you'll find your winning way.
Somethings don't always work out the way you plan. The main thing is to keep trying, do better next time, and deal with disappointment if it comes.
I think I get used to, even addicted to, the feelings associated with the end of a long training run. I love feeling empty, clean, worn out, starving, and sweat-purged. I love the good ache of muscles that have done me proud. I love the way a cold beer tastes later that afternoon. I love the way my body feels light and sinewy.
The more I run, the more I want to run, and the more I live a life conditioned and influenced and fashioned by my running. And the more I run, the more certain I am that I am heading for my real goal: to become the person I am.
Big occasions and races which have been eagerly anticipated almost to the point of dread, are where great deeds can be accomplished.
Blink and you miss a sprint. The 10,000 meters is lap after lap of waiting. Theatrically, the mile is just the right length: beginning, middle, end, a story unfolding.
Every athlete has doubts. Elite runners in particular are insecure people. You need someone to affirm that what you are doing is right.
The footing was really atrocious. I loved it. I really like Cross Country; you're one with the mud.
Intelligent coaching is sometimes no coaching.
If you want to tell something to an athlete, say it quickly and give no alternatives. This is a game of winning and losing. It is senseless to explain and explain.
Coaches are okay, I guess, but I prefer to do things my own way.
The New York Marathon: a fantastic event.
Get going. Get up and walk if you have to, but finish the damned race.
A runners creed: I will win; if I cannot win, I shall be second; if I cannot be second, I shall be third; if I cannot place at all, I shall still do my best.
Marathon running is a terrible experience: monotonous, heavy, and exhausting.
Out of the silver heat mirage he ran. The sky burned, and under him the paving was a black mirror reflecting sun-fire. Sweat sprayed his skin with each foot strike so that he ran in a hot mist of his own creation. With each slap on the softened asphalt, his soles absorbed heat that rose through his arches and ankles and the stems of his shins. It was a carnival of pain, but he loved each stride because running distilled him to his essence and the heat hastened this distillation.
When I came to New York in 1978, I was a full-time school teacher and track runner, and determined to retire from competitive running. But winning the New York City Marathon kept me running for another decade.
Thank God for running. It is the ultimate detox for me, whether my poison is bubbles, a foul mood, or a bad attitude. If I combat inertia, get out, and get moving, eventually every kind of toxin works its way out.
Running has taken me in, and continues to comfort, heal and challenge me in all kinds of magical ways. I am not a 'good runner' because I am me. I am a good 'me' because I am a runner.
I am too tired, even to be happy.
If the coach cannot do it, he cannot 'teach' it-only talk about it.
There is an expression among even the most advanced runners that getting your shoes on is the hardest part of any workout
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