Move with Purpose

Move with Purpose: My Hate/Love Relationship with Running

Written by Justin Weber

For as long as I can remember I’ve preferred to be outside. As a kid, the neighborhood park had everything I needed; tall trees, deep bushes, an open field, a sandlot baseball diamond, basketball court, and all of the typical playground apparatuses. I discovered surfing, volleyball and snowboarding in high school after getting cut from the baseball team, and those activities were my primary outlets until running took over. My relationship with running began much earlier, but started off on the wrong foot (actually both feet).

It was a brutally hot day in September of 1993, my feet kicked up clouds of dust as I sprinted along the dry red clay path toward the quarter mile track at the neighboring high school. It was my least favorite part of the week. Every Friday during PE we had to run a mile before we were allowed free play. Our route was ¾ dirt and grass and ¼ track. The faster we completed the mile, the more time we had for whatever we wanted to do. I hated running, and I let everyone know how I felt. It seemed so pointless to me at the time. Unless I was dribbling a basketball or chasing down fly balls, running for running’s sake was not my thing. In 8th grade I transferred to a new middle school. They didn’t make us run on Fridays. I didn’t have to run in high school either. After graduating I moved to Jacksonville to attend the University of North Florida. No required running there either.

Over the next decade I can count on one hand the number of times I went for a run. It was never on my own and always when someone else talked me into it. I continued to tell people that I hated running, until they stopped asking me to run with them. During that time If someone told me that after I turned 40 I’d be training for an ultramarathon (and telling people that I love running) I’d say you’re crazy, friend. But here I am, nearly 30 years after that sweltering late summer day in Pensacola, running 15-40 miles per week (mostly on trails now).

After I turned 30, my girlfriend at the time (now my wife and mother to our two boys) pestered me to start running. She had recently finished her first half marathon and tried to convince me that running was the best way to get in shape. I protested often, citing my history with the activity. I finally caved. We started running together and it slowly began to change my life. I used it as an accountability measure to quit smoking, and it worked. Then I realized that running quieted the loudest parts of my mind, and it became my version of therapy. Every time I ran I felt better afterwards. It helped me cope with most of life’s challenges. Now running is something I can’t quit doing. You can always run farther, even faster, up to a point (don’t run too far or too fast too soon though – – you’ll end up injured – – trust me your hips, knees, ankles and feet will appreciate a measured approach). I never imagined that something so simple and accessible to everyone that is able bodied could have so much impact on my life.

In 2016 running led me to work as a producer on a film called Made to be Broken, which highlighted ultrarunner Karl Meltzer’s record breaking run on the 2189 mile long Appalachian Trail (they added 4 miles to the tail a few years ago, so now it’s 2193 miles). Meltzer has won more 100 mile trail races than any other human in history, but failed to get the record on 2 other attempts. He nailed it on his final crack at it, and still holds the southbound record. There was so much more to the story than what you’ll find in the 42 minute film on Netflix. The experience left me with a nagging question. Why would anyone in their “right” mind want to run that far? Karl’s motto is “100 miles isn’t that far.” That sounds pretty outrageous and much to my wife’s dismay, I eventually wanted to test that out for myself (13.1 miles was as far as my wife ever felt the need to run). It didn’t happen right away, but a couple years after the film, I began to obsess about the AT and people who ran really far.

In March of 2020, like nearly everyone else, I found myself with a lot more time on my hands. I started running farther than I ever had, read every book I could find on running and endurance (Don’t start running barefoot after reading Born to Run), listened to running podcasts, and hired a run coach. During this time I also began developing a treatment for a docuseries on endurance records. I’m calling it Record Attempt, and Season One will tell the stories of speed records on the Appalachian Trail. In preparation for the series I’m training for an ultramarathon. The current record is out of reach for a hiker, and someone will have to run to break it.

I believe that in order to truly understand something you have to experience it fully, and that means living and breathing it. I plan to run and film on the tougher sections of the AT for the series. The overall elevation gain on the Appalachian Trail is over 445,000 feet, roughly climbing and descending an average of 200 feet per mile, but on steeper sections it can reach more than 1,000 feet in less than one mile.

Most people know that Florida is the flattest state in the US, so you’re probably thinking at this point that I’m out of my mind for training here, but there are creative ways to get in elevation (other than hitting 15 incline on the treadmill – I do that too). The easiest way is to find an incline or hill and repeat it until you reach your desired gain. I’ve found plenty of places to do just that in Northeast Florida, believe it or not. Bridges, dunes, stairs, overpasses, the incline on the beach at low tide, you name it, and I’ve repeated it.

If you find yourself motivated to watch Made to be Broken after reading this, check the credits. I’m listed as a producer and cinematographer. During the final four day stretch, before Meltzer reached the southern terminus at Springer Mountain, I followed him in and out of trailheads with a camera (partly for selfish reasons and also to give the film crew a break after 40 days of chasing Karl). To say the experience was humbling would be a massive understatement. Even though Karl was running on tired legs, he moved swiftly through the challenging terrain, and I struggled to keep up even for short distances. It wasn’t so much the pace, but more of a concern about breaking an ankle tripping over the jagged rocks and tangled roots that engulfed the trail.

Karl’s nickname is Speedgoat, and now I have the context (so much so that he partnered with us to build his Speedgoat brand). I don’t want to struggle the next time I step foot on the AT, so I’m doing everything I can to prepare myself. Moving from the pavement to the trails has been a game changer. Not only has it enlightened my running experience, but it’s also added the element of awareness to nearly every foot fall.

There’s nothing special about my running abilities – some friends and family may consider me to be special though, special in the way in which a special person keeps doing something that injures them. I have come to accept that 9-10 minute miles are fine, and injuries are part of the process. Giving running a purpose has kept me perpetually engaged. All the motivational cliches apply, especially the one that says ‘you can endure any how if you know your why.’ Whenever I start to feel apathetic toward running or feel like it’s become a burden, I simply update my purpose or remind myself of all of the benefits. Something I hated doing for more than half of my life is now something that I love. Do yourself a favor, and move with purpose. It will help, I promise, especially on those hot summer days when you don’t feel like it.

Oh, one more thing, for my first ultra marathon I’m going to run one of the hardest 50k’s in the country in July of 2022. It’s the evil brainchild of the one and only Karl Meltzer, called the Speedgoat 50K. The entire 32 miles are run above 7,500 ft and there’s 11,000 feet of elevation gain. If you average 15 minute miles you’re doing great. Wish me luck, I’ll write some updates along the way and a new article when I finish. I still have aspirations of one day running a 100 miler, but I’m nowhere near ready for that. In due time, as long as my body holds up.