The streak stands at 64. It could be my record, but I don’t know because after more than three decades of running, I just can’t remember.
What I do know is I’ve run every day since Nov. 24. In that stretch, I’ve covered nearly 400 miles, most of them on Kauai, the rest in the freshly fallen snow and icy streets ofCoeur d’Alene, Idaho, when we went home for Christmas. Some days, during my streak I’ve run as little as three miles. Others, 10 to 15. Most are in the five to seven range.
There are days I feel fantastic and each stride is light and easy and I’m a young man again. And there are days each step seems to hurt and I’m creaking along like the old man that I am. On those particularly humid and hot days, the sweat stings my eyes and it’s like I’ve gone swimming by the time I’m back home, where I stand in the lanai and the sweat drips into a puddles around my feet. There is a strong sense of satisfaction when that happens, like I just accomplished something really important.
These days, I run to the Ninini Lighthouse, down that dirt run next to the airport, and watch for whales. Saturday, standing there and staring at the ocean, a whale suddenly rose high, nearly completely out of the water, seemed to stop, suspended for a split second, then crashed back down with a huge splash. It was beautiful. Excited, I called my wife, my kids, my parents, to tell them of what I’d just witnessed. I wished they could have been there.
I almost always run alone, in the morning around the Kauai Marrriott Resort. I often see people I’ve come to known on my travels by foot, like Dickie and Jimmy and Philip, and we usually exchanges waves and greetings. Others, I pass daily but haven’t learned their names. I met a man from Wisconsin the other day. He was moving along at a fast clip and I had to work a bit to keep up. We parted ways when I saw a lost dog, stopped and called to see if it would come to me so I could read its license and call its owner. It disappeared through some brush, though.
When some of our kids and family visited earlier this month, I was rejuvenated at the chance to put in miles with my son, my daughter, my son-in-law and my nephew. Loved the conversations and the smiles and the laughs as we went. Moments, so simple, yet I will always treasure them, sharing them with those I love who share my love of running. It is during those moments I am blessed.
Running is a good time to think. It’s a good time to pray. It’s good time to wonder about life, where I’ve been and where I’m headed. It’s good time to test myself and see if I’m still willing to run so hard that I’m fighting for each breath and want to stop but don’t and when I finally do give in to the pain, I raise my hands above my head and gasp for air, recover for a few minutes, and get ready to go again.
Ah, what fun.
I’m hoping to run every day this year. I’ve never had a year where I haven’t missed a single day. This could be that year. It could happen. I’ve recovered from that hurting hamstring and ailing Achilles. That rib that popped out is back in place. My lower back is solid. My right knee isn’t twinging anymore. It’s actually surprising how well my running has been throughout this streak, how good I’ve been feeling and the joy that I’ve found in mile after mile after mile. I have found nothing that matches an ice cold beer after a long, fast run on a hot day.
I admit, though, there are days I wonder why I run so much. What’s the point? Good health? Yeah, but more. Really, it’s about the battle, daily, against Father Time. I’m losing, I know. Can’t win. Every now and then, I think about that quote from baseball great Satchel Paige: “Don’t look back. Something might be gaining on you.”
So I don’t look back.
There are more than 300 days left this year. On every one of them, I’m planning to charge ahead. What an adventure it promises to be.
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Bill Buley is editor-in-chief of The Garden Island newspaper. He can be reached at bbuley@thegardenisland.com.
