Any Nike Run Club app users will recognize the phrase, “see you on your next starting line.” Coach Bennett often says this at the end of guided runs. Usually after praising the runner for their accomplishment, regardless of distance or pace. The idea is that there are no finish lines. I get that. We’re never really done. In our personal lives and in business, you may think you’re done with something, only to realize there’s more to do. So don’t focus so much on the finish line. Rather, look forward to that next starting line. This has been on my mind since I finished the Old West 50K trail run. Twice.

That next starting line thing, I’ve been thinking how it’s about running. And how it’s about so much more than running. As full-time RVers we tend look toward the next departure date, often even prior to arrival. Weekenders may wonder about when they have to leave. But I bet that’s in terms of when their vacation time is over.

I remember feeling that way in our previous life. We’d be deep in the woods on a long hiking trip. Rather than soaking in every precious moment of wonder, my mind might wander to when we’d have to head home. The harsh reality of that default life would hit hard as soon as we got stuck in traffic on the Golden Gate bridge. Immediately, I’d forget what we did and that we’d do it again. Instead, I’d already be counting down the hours of when I need to be back at work with another epic weekend behind us. That was then, this is now.

The last night I saw my dad he told me, “I’m ready.” I remember wondering, ready for what? I was going to see him again after my trip south for Christmas with Rene’s family. That next morning, I got the call saying he had passed in the night. I’ve often considered his final words. I didn’t take them as “I’m done.” I believe he meant he was ready to move on. If anything, he was done with his struggle. But there was no fear in his voice. He’d clearly made his peace, or whatever. He was ready for his next starting line.

Why does any of this this matter? It is the reason I run.

Why Do We Run? To Get to the Next Starting Line!

I can think of many more reasons to not run. But, they’re all bad for my health and longevity. Or, at least not as good for me as the benefits of all these marathons. I run because you gotta use it or lose it. Since discovering Dr. Peter Attia, I run because I’m training for my own Centenarian Decathlon. (What 10 things do you want to do when you’re 100 years old?) In short, I run because I can. But I keep at it because I want to be able to keep running at the next starting line.

I’ve seen the alternative. “You’re just like me,” my dad told me many times. “I was a fat kid. I got tall and thin. Then I got old and fat.” Thanks dad. I run because I’m trying to avoid that last part. I don’t necessarily run because I like running. I like having had run.

I tried explaining my joy for long distance running in the past perfect tense at the Plum Canyon aid station on this latest ultra running adventure. It was at about mile 23 of the 50K trail race. The support crew was incredible. A table full of snacks with plenty of hydration was quite a treat. And the port-a-potty was a sight to see! I must have also been. “Remember, you enjoy doing this,” the smiling face said.

Sure, she was trying to be motivating. Hence the look of confusion when I told her, “No I don’t.” Filling my mouth with peanut M&Ms, I told her how I don’t really like running. As she filled my bottle with more sport drink, I explained that what I like is having had run. Knowing that I could do it. And knowing I could do it again.

Don’t Act Your Age, Run It

That’s why I got this crazy idea about running my age back before that first 53K. Well, shortly after the Las Vegas marathon earlier this year, I realized there was no 58-minute 10K in my future any time soon at my current average pace. So, that meant running 58K. And, like the 2022 Bizz Johnson, that meant heading back out again at the finish line next starting line. This time for another eight kilometers after finishing the 50K race.

For me, that finish line was also my next starting line. After grabbing my medal, I turned around and ran into Rene just a few minutes behind me. She asked if I was running my 58K. I wasn’t quite sure at the time, but why not I thought. That was my idea after all, and I was much more prepared this time. I cheered on every runner I passed putting in their final miles. Just a few more to go I kept telling myself.

My math must have been a bit off. Because I turned around again a bit shy of ensuring I’d hit 58K at the finish line again. So, I ended up running around the campground a while before ending my ultra misogi. Somebody started jogging toward me. They didn’t have to jog very fast. They asked, “Are you running the race?” Of course, I was off course. The finish line was on the next campsite loop. I just smiled and said, “I’m running my own race.”

Where Is Your Next Starting Line?

This is not a race. I keep telling myself that. The only person I’m running against is my self. Finally, I confused quite a few folks when turning down the medal I was handed at the official finish line. “No thanks, I’ve already got mine.” No next starting line this time! I was glad to be done.

I was happy to have run the longest distance I have ever run in my life. Not really proud of my time, but proud to have run for the most time I have ever spent running for sure. At some point, I got some silly idea to run a 60K at 60 years old. A fellow runner after this race event suggested I make that 60 miles. That will not be necessary. So, about that next starting line?

Honestly, I run epic runs like this to finish knowing that I won’t have to run again. Run the race, get the t-shirt, wear the medal. That means there will be no more training miles, at least not for a while. Not until Rene gets another crazy idea, to do it all again. I’m sure she’s got her own reasons. But that didn’t last so long this time. I usually plead that we not even talk about any other organized race for a month. That we can sleep in without getting up to run for at least a week. Those times keep getting shorter, unlike my finish times.

Our Next Starting Line Is Sooner Than Expected

Rene had a new training plan to run the Eugene Marathon again inside our bathroom cabinet within a couple days. “This weekend is only a half,” she said. One week after my own 36 mile distance record, I ran 12 miles. Not for Rene. Not for fun. But because I can see our next starting line from here.

And, just because people will ask…

They always do, because they focus on that finish line instead of the next starting line…