PUBLISHER’S MESSAGE

I am Speed

My mom used to tell me, “Tommy, a good book can change your life.”

Although a friend had recommended it to me a few years ago, I could not bring myself to read Born to Run. What little I knew of the story just did not capture my imagination—plus I was not a runner. But, that was about to change.

When I finally did crack the book, I was intrigued by the premise of the story. The author, Christopher McDougall, a recreational runner plagued by injury, sets out to understand why his foot hurts. As an occasional jogger—two or three miles at a time, never more than a few times per month—I could feel his pain. For me, it wasn’t my foot, but my hips, which throbbed in agony after a twenty-minute trot. I reasoned that the Creator had designed my body for other purposes, stuff like sitting here at my desk writing publisher’s messages.

I don’t remember when it happened exactly, but at some point I became locked-in, engaged in a virtual conversation with the author. I was deeply entranced, almost in a meditative state as I lost myself in the story. By the time I set down the 304-page paperback, my paradigm had shifted, and I found myself practicing my stride, barefoot at the park. I was astonished to learn that McDougall was right—I really was born to run. As I strode on the soft grass, I thought about the ancient Chumash who likely glided effortlessly in the same area thousands of years ago while tracking their prey. Although I felt like a majestic Native American warrior, judging from the sideways looks I was getting from parents, in reality I was just a weird, middleaged dude with elbows and kneecaps flailing all directions, slowly orbiting their kids who were busy on the play structure.

It didn’t matter. For the first time in a long time, my hips felt great. I was so excited about my experience that, in the wake of my delusional runner’s high, I went online and signed up for the SLO Marathon. Then, I took a trip down to the shoe store where my gait was filmed and analyzed. I settled on some minimalistic sneakers that mimicked being barefoot. I asked the salesperson for some tips, and he suggested visualization. “Find a mantra,” he said. “Something you can repeat to yourself when you’re running out of steam.” I thought about this for a while, and the only thing I could come up with was Lightning McQueen from the Disney movie Cars. It probably came to mind because I have seen the film at least 800 times; half of those viewings came as my son, then two or three years old, fell asleep on my lap as we watched it together. In the opening scene, McQueen is having a dream. During the dream, he revs his throaty V8 engine violently and then declares, “I am speed.” Perfect. Shoes, check. Mantra, check.

Now, more than halfway through my training schedule, I channel Lighting McQueen when I feel myself starting to fall from my already snail-like pace on the streets of San Luis Obispo. I am speed. With the SLO Marathon penned into my calendar on April 27th, I have recruited my younger sisters, both of them runners, to pace me during the 26.2-mile race. Since my 40th birthday is also in April, they have been teasing me, claiming they are going to “escort me over the hill.” There may be something to it, as my wife has observed “exercise is the new midlife crisis.” Our generation, she says, instead of buying sports cars and searching for trophy wives, appears to be more interested in testing their physical endurance. And she might be on to something. If I were turning 40 in 1984 instead of 2014, it’s possible that rather than training for a marathon, I would be cruising around blaring Billy Idol with the top down on a newly purchased Toyota Celica GT-S convertible. Luckily, it’s not 1984, and Christopher McDougall just changed my life.

I would like to take this opportunity to say “thank you” to everyone who had a hand in creating this issue of SLO LIFE Magazine and most of all, to our advertisers and subscribers—we couldn’t do it without you.

Live the SLO Life!

Tom Franciskovich tom@slolifemagazine.com