Zen Track Rambling came about quite by chance: First, as a joyful
account to capture the feelings I experienced during my long runs;
and secondly, as a means to relieve the pain, depression, and
general helplessness I felt during a long-term injury. My running
journey has led me to extreme highs, but has also plunged me
bipolar-like into the depths of depression. The journey began in
Starved Rock State Park, outside of LaSalle, Illinois, in August
1999, when I was an expatriate in Australia working in the States
for a spell. At sunrise, I'd run the trails before work, then share
in a communal breakfast with my workshop colleagues; yet during the
work day, I would drift and daydream. I was fifty-something, and
felt disconnected, not knowing who I was or where I was headed. But
I put my time to good use during those humdrum workshops: I'd
scribble the memories from the day's run on scraps of paper The
result of my ennui was an accumulation of paper scraps marked with
ruminations of my daily runs. On my flight back to Australia, I
gathered those scraps and magically scribed the poem "zen track
rambling." The title of the poem, however, is unrelated to my
morning runs on the Starved Rock trails even though they were the
poem's inspiration; rather, zen track is a name my Australian
running mates and I coined to describe a scorching hot, blustery
bike path which runs along a railway line-and, which once hosted
the infamous Ghan from Adelaide to Darwin-where we often
hallucinated as we ran in 100 plus-degree temperatures. As I was
living and working in Australia for quite some time, I made a few
friends in the South Australian Writer's Workshop, notably Kim, who
encouraged me to read "zen track rambling" in one of the Poetry
Under The Pier reading sessions in Henley Beach. I remember my
first poetry reading like it was yesterday. Somewhat unsure of
myself, I drew a deep breath and bared my soul to the gathered
throng of poetry lovers. The ensuing positive reception I received
convinced me to continue to write down what I felt, envisioned,
and/or hallucinated on my long runs. As the years went by, I ran
hundreds of miles, maybe even thousands, and the word count
accumulated along with those miles. Australia was where I also got
into competitive racing. On the weekends, I ran 20 plus-mile
endurance runs on the sands of Henley Beach. I ran the annual 30Km
South Australian Road Runners Club race many times, but it became
less and less of a challenge. I could no longer ignore thoughts of
running a marathon I knew I had the distance in the bag since I was
already running 20-plus mile runs each weekend on the beach.
Completing that first marathon was just the beginning of my
long-distance running career. Then, in June 2000, an injury
crippled my running life. I had been training for the Corporate
Cup, running with guys 20 years my junior and at their pace My 5K
time was a sub-20 minutes Not bad for a fifty-year-old But every
runner knows that speedwork takes a toll on the body, and running
hardcore like that resulted in very painful sciatica. I felt
discouraged and depressed, and those feelings became apparent in my
writing. When I think back to that time, I realize that writing had
become my therapy, my way to understand my own fears and to express
a hope I did not yet feel. Many of my poems, particularly,
"footsteps in the sand" not only reveal my physical pain but also
the mental anguish I felt. When the pain from my injury subsided-it
took six long months-I felt the adrenaline urge again, but this
time I replaced competitive racing with slow, long-distance
running. Similarly, my writing style also changed: I started to
write how I felt during those long runs in the form of race
reports-instead of poetry-to memorialize my ultra-marathon
experiences. My running life had finally pushed me forward into
positive places on the trails and my spirit of running was renewed.
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