Penguinism

John "The Penguin" Bingham has penned his final column for Runner's World magazine.

His "butterfly effect" ponderings in his capstone entry line up rather well with the thoughts I've been having about myself lately. I've felt that my running fitness can be gauged from how the last three to six months have went. It's sort of a "what have you done for me lately" deal. But it's not what necessarily a what-have-you done right now deal either.

What this means is that successfully training for and finishing that full marathon a couple of years ago contributes very little to how I am today physically (although the experience factor is very valuable). On the other hand, having one lousy run in the present doesn't necessarily mean I'm hopelessly falling apart either. I've had quite a few lousy running weeks during this past summer and fall, enough to prompt me to switch races. My confidence was shaken enough to even allow the thought of a DNS for the half to creep in. So I was certainly relieved to be able to log 10 miles yesterday. Despite the cool air and the fantastically sunny skies, I stuck to the treadmill. It seems like a crime against beautiful weather, but making the 10 miles was more important to me this past weekend than experimenting with the environment.

Except for last month's Turkey Dash, I haven't run outside in many weeks. Yes, winter's darkness obliterating the natural light in the early mornings and evenings has been discouraging me from running the trails and sidewalks. But I must also acknowledge the what-if anxieties concerning bad things that can happen "out there" -- ones that didn't seem to bother me in the past. So while I'm grateful that the treadmill has been there for my benefit, I also find myself wishing that my Garmin Forerunner could have seen more use lately.

That Forerunner will certainly be strapped to my wrist as I venture out on Marathon Sunday, though. I've found John Bingham's writings to be really good motivational material, and I find myself returning to his Marathoning for Mortals book again and again. The rise of "Penguinism" in the latest running boom -- even its very definition -- has been discussed and debated. For myself, it has meant being able to tap into an internal desire to get up and move, train, aim for a goal like a distance run, and celebrate the feeling.

Even if you're destined to be confined at the back of the pack, or will never be mistaken for the cover model of a fitness magazine, the "Penguin" has counseled us to believe that running is naturally inclusive activity, and there's nothing wrong with the average (or even below-average) Joe or Jane showing up on race day and being counted.

Waddle on, John, and thanks.