You Can't Lose Me Now By Bob Schwartz

We runners have heard the ludicrous comments before. From those who wouldn't know the difference between a hamstring and a ham sandwich and think the iliotibial band plays swing music from the 1940s. Those who are much more familiar with Planter's peanuts than plantar fasciitis and believe endorphins are a new type of fish-egg delicacy.

You know, those skeptics with the silly inquiry, "How can running be enjoyable if I've rarely seen someone running with a beaming smile?" (I usually tell them that's because facial muscles are the first to tire in distance running and, rest assured, those runners are enthusiastically grinning on the inside.) Or perhaps they question just what the purpose of running is if you're going to wind up in the same spot you started.

But those of us who find some warped comfort in delayed-onset muscle soreness, and proudly display calluses like medals of valor, simply shrug off these comments knowing the nonbelievers just don't understand. Never will.

Better health, weight loss, more energy and increased stamina apparently aren't enough to convince them of the sensible nature of running. Well, if they need an even-more practical reason, I've got it.

It all stems from the prevailing thought that with modern means of travel, communication, the Internet and cellular phones, the world is becoming a smaller place. It's just as easy to find out who finished fourth in the 1600 meters at the local high school girls track meet as it is to uncover next Tuesday's dinner special at a mid-priced vegetarian restaurant in Copenhagen, Denmark.

However, my recent revelation was that if the big picture was getting smaller, then for some, the small picture was getting bigger.

It all began when I went to visit an old running friend. We often had traveled to out-of-town races together, and accurate directions had never been his forte. He felt he was a natural homing pigeon when, in fact, he was more like a perpetually- wandering puppy. When he provided me directions to his new house in a city a few hours away, I held out the faint hope he'd at least keep me in the same time zone.

After driving in circles for awhile, I wasn't so sure. Once lost, I stopped and questioned people working in their front yards. In mentioning specific street names, I'd get a befuddled look, as if I were inquiring about the name of a pastry shop in Istanbul. I declined one gentleman's sign-of-the-times offer to go plug it into the computer to see what came up.

I drove around more and finally stumbled on the street for which I was searching. It was just three blocks away from the people I'd just questioned! My theory was born.

The world may seem smaller, but for some, their immediate surroundings are becoming very large. Namely, their own neighborhood.

These people were clearly not runners, as they didn't seem to venture beyond their borders far enough to know what streets were within a 100 yards of their home. Runners, although winding up where they started, at least know where they went.

Having run various courses from my home over the years, I can tell you more than just street names within a 10-mile radius. I can provide the color of the front-door knocker of that Tudor house, which is on the street with the three homes having detached garages, a marginally-uneven sidewalk on the west side, and the German shepherd who is outside between 4 and 6 p.m, all of which is exactly 5.46 miles away.

This practical neighborhood knowledge gained through running also includes the ability to provide the location and water temperature of every drinking fountain in the county, and knowing which gas stations require you to factor in the few extra seconds needed to obtain a key to use the bathroom.

I can also provide a topographical map of the area including any hill higher than a curb, and I know exactly how many seconds I have to get to approaching intersections to be able to cross the street once the light turns green.

From the experience of long runs at dawn, I know which convenience stores are open 24 hours and have my favorite flavor of sport drink, as well as which way the wind blows most autumn mornings.

Is this practical enough for the nonbelievers? Maybe. But we runners can take comfort that we know what lies in the vast frontier extending 200 yards past the family room.

But, most importantly, if you don't know where you're going, you'll never know when you get there. We, with the internal atlas and strong capillaries, are clearly in the know.

Excerpted by permission from "I Run, Therefore I Am -- Nuts!"

by Bob Schwartz. Copyright (c) 2001 by Human Kinetics Publishers, Inc. Available at bookstores, Amazon.com, humankinetics.com or 1-800-747-4457.