Not for the short winded...

Editors note- Only after writing this was I aware of how long it actually was, sorry!

Hi, my name is Geoff McDonald, and I have a problem. It's chaotic, it's sporadic, it's unpredictable..... it's inconsistency. My apologies for the lack of a post this year, (see what I did there? Did you get it?) A wise man once told me, "excuses are not reasons", so here is my.... reason?

I was saving up for a blog of epic proportion. What was my thesis? That after the Patriots fourth superbowl since the age of fluidless carry-on flights, they are not only the team of the decade, but the team of the century. That there are only three guarantees in life, death, taxes, and a Patriots Superbowl win every few years. Well, after an unfortuJet event (you didn't know it was a comedy blog, did you), twenty four hours of a self-imposed bedroom lock in with my buddies Jack Daniels and Johnny Cash, and maybe a few tears, that blog was no more. I've already taken the first step in recovery. It took me a few days to realize I wasn't waking up from this nightmare, but now I can admit that it happened. The second step? I think that's moving on. With that being said, let's talk about something completely unrelated, my tumultuous relationship with running.

For so many years the sport of endurance running was a major piece of my life. I loved running for the exact reasons that I hated it. Running, is more than any other activity, performanced based and soley dependant on yourself; your training, your toughness, your passion. From a emotional standpoint, I've experienced some of my best high's and worst low's after some of my performances. You get out of running exactly what you put in to it, at times for myself it was greatness, and at times it was horrendous.

However, at every point in my life I have maintained one of the three elements of running that I consider necessary for success. Namely, passion, toughness, and dedication. The greats in the sport are able to balance these three necessities out for the majority of their careers. Unfortunately, I really only fused the forces once, and it was swiftly interrupted by mono and anemia. However short it was, I'm blessed to possess them deep down, and I'm confident one day they will come together again in some manner. I can credit these three traits to three major influences in my life, my father, my high school coach Dyrace, and my college coach Tread.

The passion came from Dyrace. Dyrace came to Bow High School my Junior year and convinced me that running track would ultimately help me with my real passion, cross country. Dyrace nurtured a culture on our team that was centered on a passion for the sport. You could hear it in his voice when he would talk about our races, and you could feel in the races, when he would read splits at every mile mark. My senior year Dyrace brought a few of us to the Boston Indoor Games, the premier indoor track and field meet. The program from the event signed by Stacy Dragilla still sits on my bookshelf. This is where the passion was born.

The passion was incorporated with the dedication aspect in College. Tread made sure that his athletes understood the difference between tired and fatigued. Tired meant you needed to stop complaining and finish the workout, and fatigued meant you'd need some time off. Tread made it clear that throughout most of my collegiate career I was tired, not fatigued. While puking three times a week sometimes can wear on you, I'm forever thankful that I have Tread as a mentor. During my toughest hours I constantly remind myself that I'm far from fatigued. Tread ran for the Nike Farm Team for a number of years, and he was one tough son of a gun. When you respect someone as much as I do, that toughness is contagious. Tread groomed the toughness that my father gave life to.

Dad was right by my side the first time I pushed myself to puking. Anyone who has seen me train or compete will tell you that there better be a bucket nearby. Understandably, this concept is absolutely foreign to anyone not familiar with the idea of pushing themselves beyond the point where your body tells you to stop. I first witnessed this phenomenon when I was around eight years old watching my dad in a road race. When he crossed the finish line I ran up to see him. What I saw was him with his hands on his knees dry heaving. The sound effects would have made Emily Rose blush. After he explained that he did it to himself I had but one thought, when can I do that.

Well the time came and it was glorious. It was the first time I ran the Saunders 10k race in Rye, New Hampshire. For those not fortunate enough to witness this let me describe the scene. A Bridge covering a creek that twisted inland from the ocean that was sporting high tide in the distance. Standing between the background and the sea-grass filled foreground was me. Shirtless, mid-stride with my head tilted to the right, and a steady stream of yellow projectile style vomit spewing from my dried-spit stained mouth. Stride-in-stride next to me was my father, head also titled to the right except instead of puke was merely a smile, the torch had been passed. Dad and I would go on to run many races together, puke included, and we have many more to go. Today on my right leg you'll find a tattoo that I designed, blending the Chinese symbols for "father" and "courage" to resemble a stick figure runner.

That tattoo was instrumental in finding that concept of pushing myself beyond my comfortable limits. I had lost it for a while; actually until today. "Crossfit" is form of training that has been around for quite some time, however in recent years it has gained almost a cult like following from a grassroots standpoint. Crossfit is the execution of "H.I.T", high intensity training. When compared to weight lifting, the idea is lighter weight, more repetitions, and combining exercises that target different muscles in drop sets, all with the purpose of keeping your heart rate elevated.

I saw that down the road from me there was a new gym that was dedicated to Crossfit. With the evening off from my night job I decided I would give it a shot. The building is a long structure with four garage doors on the front. Each garage door was up about two feet, exposing the painted concrete floor from the outside. I opened the old beat up door and as it creaked and slammed shut I took the corner. With the idea of a gym I was expecting dumbbells, benches, squat racks and leg sleds. What I saw was a rack of medicine balls, two flat bars, a metal structure with taped up bars at varying levels, three heavy bags hanging from the rafters amidst AC pipes, and one speed bag. The two garage doors in the back were opened up revealing a fenced in grassy area overlooking the sunset over the marsh. In front of it all? Four college aged girls and the instructor, Ryan. At this point I'm thinking maybe I'm at the wrong place, seeing as I'm the only guys. We wait five minutes until 6:00 when the class starts. In these five minutes Ryan leads the introductions, and quickly see that not only am I the only male, but I'm the only rookie as well.

After a stretch we do our warmup. Ryan explains that the warm up will be a combination of jump rope and push ups. The structure is as follows, 50 jumps 5 pushups, 40 jumps 5 pushups, 30 jumps 5 pushups. Mind you I haven't done cardio in about five months, so I'm hurting after the warmup. Ryan explains that there are various types of H.I.T. workouts, all named after girls. Today's lady is named Fran, but I'd soon find out that she is no Lady. Bitch would be a drastic understatement. The workout breaks down to deadlifts combined with military presses in one fluid motion, followed by a brief sprint to the metal structure for pull ups; 21 lift/presses followed by 21 pullups, then 15 of each, then 9. Ryan passes out medicine balls to the girls varying in weight from five pounds to twelve. He then explains to me that based on my size and appearance, I should be able to do the exercise with 95 pounds on the bar. I accept the challenge and we begin the workout.

The first set goes alright, although I start to struggle around number 15 of each. I run back for the second set and really struggle to hit 15, and the pullups after are embarrassing. At this point I'm starting to get that familiar feeling as I run back for my set of 9. Ryan mentions how well I'm doing time wise as I struggle to lift my first rep. As I bring it down I say, "you got any buckets". Ryan is a tough fitness guy, and recognizes the look in my eye as he fumbles to fully open the back door. I drop the weight and run out. That bitch Fran, here I am ruining a perfectly good sunset with my uncontrollable vomit that echos through the marsh. Ryan comes out and mentions how I am the first one to puke from the workout since they opened. I was also reminded that anyone who pukes gets a free t-shirt, at least there is some upside. Ryan gives me a water bottle and a few minutes to collect myself, however the puking does not slow. Ryan tells me that the clock is still running and I only have 9 more left, he asks me if I can finish. I am determined to finish so I walked back in only to immediately turn around and dry heave some more. As much as I hate to say it, my workout is done. Ryan gives me a few more minutes before coming out again to ask if, "i need to go to the emergency room", although I decline it makes me realize what sort of performance I must have been putting on.

Anyone who tells you that they feel good after a workout is not doing it right. Some people believe that during enlightenment you see God. Well after a workout I see the Devil, and his firey claws are deep in my lungs pulling them out through my throat. I often convince myself after that I will never do this again, this is how you know it's a good one. Because a few hours later I'm back on their website looking for the next weeks schedule.

Long story short, I think it might be back. I was able to combine those three elements that hadn't been united in so long. It hurts but it's incredible. And while I write this I keep thinking of those three mentors who taught me these three principles. When all three elements are working together, great results are in the near future.