Dean Karnazes' book

I know that this group has already seen this post, but I wanted to put it out here for anybody else that might be watching the blog.

Some insightful passages from a book I just finished. Ultramarathon man: Confessions of an all-night runner by Dean Karnazes. He’s one of the top ultrarunners in the country if not world. He’s finished 200 mile races solo, run 123 miles through the desert in California, 100 miles through the mountains, 26 miles to the South Pole, and recently 350 miles without sleep. He routinely runs through the night and sometimes runs for 100 miles before a race, timing it so he gets to the start of a marathon minutes before and then runs the marathon at a respectable time (3:15)! He’s embarking on another trial in September at the race I’m running in St. Charles. He’s going to complete 50 marathons in all 50 states in 50 consecutive days. That’s a total of around 1300 miles in 50 days! He’s truly amazing and I couldn’t put the book down. I would suggest it as a good read for anybody, runners and non-runners. These quotes don’t ruin anything in the book, but if you don’t read the book at least you will have seen these parts. You can find out more about him at www.ultramarathonman.com or his latest challenge at www.endurance50.com

Jeremy

p. 173

Yes, I had failed—but It had actually been a spectacular failure, gloriously disintegrating every aspect of my body and soul until I literally fell over in the dirt. In the words of Theodore Roosevelt: “The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

p. 220

People think I’m crazy to put myself through such torture, though I would argue otherwise. Somewhere along the line we seem to have confused comfort with happiness. I’ve now come to believe that quite the opposite is the case. Dostoyevsky had it right: “Suffering is the sole origin of consciousness.” Never are my senses more engaged than when the pain sets in. There is magic in misery. Just ask any runner.

p. 231

I’ve just learned an essential insight: your legs can only carry you so far. Running great distances is mostly done with your head … and, as Benner taught me twenty-five years ago, your heart. The human body is capable of amazing physical deeds. If we could just free ourselves from our perceived limitations and tap into our internal fire, the possibilities are endless.

p. 233

A brief rest would have been nice, but playing with the kids was a better pick-me-up. I was always preaching to them, “Adventure happens the moment you step out your front door. Get outside and get going.” Just as my mom had urged us kids when we were young.

p. 262

Running has taught me that the pursuit of a passion matters more than the passion itself. Immerse yourself in something deeply and with heartfelt intensity—continually improve, never give up—this is fulfillment, this is success.

p. 263

If you’re not pushing yourself beyond the comfort zone, if you’re not constantly demanding more from yourself—expanding and learning as you go—you’re choosing a numb existence. You’re denying yourself an extraordinary trip. As a running buddy once said to me: Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming: “WOW!! What a ride!”

p. 276

The solitude experienced while running helps me enjoy people more when I am around them. The simple, primitive act of running has nurtured me. I’ve become more tolerant, more patient, and more giving than I ever thought I could be. Suddenly the commonplace is intriguing, and I’ve learned to dig the little things in life, like being squirted in the ear with a water bottle by a five-year-old child. This is what running has taught me, make me—I hope—a better man.

p. 276

I run to see how far I can go. I run because it’s my way of giving back to the world by doing the one thing it is I do best. I run because I’ve never been much of a car guy. I run because if I didn’t, I’d be sluggish and glum and spend too much time on the couch. I run to breathe the fresh air. I run to explore. I run to escape the ordinary. I run to honor my sister and unite my family. I run because it keeps me humble. I run for the finish line and to savor the trip along the way. I run to help those who can’t. I run because walking takes too long, and I’d like to get a few things done in this lifetime. I run because long after my footprints fade away, maybe I will have inspired a few to reject the easy path, hit the trails, put one foot in front of the other, and come to the same conclusion I did: I run because it always takes me where I want to go.