Dear Running

Dear Running,

For the last 24 years you’ve been my identity. For better or worse you’ve been the center of my life since I was 10 years old. You’ve taken me to heights that most people only get to dream about. Because most days I headed out the door not because I loved running so much but because I had this insatiable drive to get faster. Over the years I’ve tried to understand this drive, but I’ve never quite been able to pin it down. We’ve celebrated, we’ve cried, we’ve laughed, and we’ve bleed, hell I even quit once but that only lasted a few months. Something is different now.

Over the last two years, I’ve known that running felt different. I’ve been so excited to be healthy and chasing my dreams again after such a disastrous 2017 and 2018 with my Vasculitis. But something just felt different from the start. At first I thought it may be damage from the Vasculitis relapse (which I still believe might have robbed me of a few horsepower). I convinced myself it was the time away from hard training. I convinced myself it was the lack of speed work. And I kept telling myself that magical feeling of weightlessness you feel when you’re super fit was just around the corner. As I slowly ticked the boxes, the feeling never returned. It went from trying to convince myself that it would come together, to just bold face lying. For the last 6 weeks I slowly heard the whispers in the back of my head from Father Time, “Your legs don’t feel fast because you’re old” he’d mutter. 

Now at 34 I know I’m not old old. But track and field, particularly the 1500, is a young man's game. I know of no one not named Steve Scott or Nick Willis (arguably two of the top 5 best Milers of All Time) that have been able to run 3:37 for 1500 at age 34. At their prime though they were low 3:30 or sub 3:30 runners. So even as they lost a step or two they could still be one of the best. For one reason or another I never got to 3:30, at my best I was a 3:38 guy so trying to lower my PR at 34 has been a great illusion of grandeur. In my life over the last decade I’ve beaten the odds so many times that I truly believed that I could work myself to a standard that only a few had ever achieved. That intrinsic drive and self belief propelled me when the odds were more often against me than in my favor. After my Vasculitis diagnosis at age 20 that should’ve stopped me dead in my tracks. But it didn’t. After my first and second relapses, it didn’t. How about battling anxiety and depression? Nope, didn’t slow me down. Each one of those things has been enough to unravel humans, but I somehow prevailed. At age 28 I finally caught my dream of being a sub 4 minute miler. At 29 I qualified for my first Olympic Trials at 1500. Who does that? When I made the Trials in 2016 there were only 3 other distance athletes still racing from my high school class of 2005. I somehow outlasted all of them. Starting to see how I might have some other worldly self belief? Maybe that’s toughness or stupidity, that’s for you to judge. But in my career I got an extreme amount of energy knowing that I could out work and out last many of my peers just to give me a shot. I truly believe I was willing to suffer and fight for what I wanted more than anyone. That ego only added extra fuel to the raging fire. But even I am human. Father Time is undefeated. Over the last two years I was arrogant enough to believe that I could out run him too. But sadly I must admit he has finally caught me. 

That has become glaringly obvious in races this spring. At practice, alone, I could hide. I could excuse things away. I could tell myself while things felt different, the times on the watch said I was fit. But I knew. I knew that the rhythm of 57-58 second 400s felt just a little too hard. I know that sounds obnoxious to complain about flying around a track at over 15 mph and complaining about it being hard, but when you’re fit, I promise it’s easy. With each workout that passed, I knew that those paces should feel easier, but they never did. When I lined up for my first 1500 this spring I was so excited to be back racing at a high level and the fitness to back it up. But when I looked at the clock with 400m to go and saw numbers I didn’t expect to see I was deflated. It’s why it was so hard to even race the last lap against a field that I should’ve handily beaten. The voice of Father Time got a little louder and the doubt started creeping up my spine. As each race passed his voice turned from a whisper to a shout and the reality set in that at 34 years old my body just can’t sustain that pace in a race. I’ve worked as hard or harder than I have ever worked on the track. I now know that no amount of legal work is going to let me accomplish my goal of making my 2nd Olympic Trials. That became glaringly obvious in the last 600m in NYC last weekend. You can’t lean into the pain and kick when you no longer believe in your legs' abilities to win. I’m certainly capable of times faster than I have run recently. I know that no amount of training or self belief is going to turn back the clock. Since 2019 I’ve swung for the fence to reach this goal and came up short. While I’m heartbroken I know I did everything I could. I got to walk away on my terms and not Vasculitis’s terms. So I walk away with my head held high. After I crossed the line in NYC on Friday evening at the Trials of Miles meet, I knew that was it. I knew the dream was over. I knew that whatever it takes to race at that level I don’t have anymore. For my mental health I can’t keep lying to myself. So it’s time to move on. It’s time for running and I to have a different relationship. 

As I walk away, I’m not going to say this sport took me places that I never dreamed, because the reality is I dreamed much bigger than I ever made. But the sport did take me on some incredible journeys. Most of my fondest memories in life have centered around running, racing, and traveling. I’ve seen places I would have never seen. I met my best friends. And most importantly I learned a lot from it. To this very day it’s still teaching me lessons. This sport is my life. At times I’ve tried to distance myself from it, but the reality is, I am a runner to my core. I always will be. Now it’s time to join the masses and not let 4 laps at a disgustingly fast pace define our dysfunctional relationship. 

What’s next, well in the short term I’ve got two final races planned. I’ll be in Chattanooga, TN on Memorial Day to run the Chattanooga Chase hosted by my friends at FastBreak Athletics. Then I will line up for one last 1500m race at the Music City Track Carnival on June 5th. After last weekend I really didn’t want to race again, but after a few days of tears and tough conversations, I realized that’s not who I am. I can’t walk away from this sport with the effort that I gave in NYC. As the leader of the Victory Over Vasculitis Campaign I constantly talk about doing your personal best. Lord knows there were times in the last 14 years that I would have been stoked with the times that I’ve run, but the reality is I didn’t give my best in those races and I owe it to you and I owe it to this sport to show up one last time and leave it all on the track. What’s after that, for the first time in over 20 years, I don’t know. In fact I’m making myself not make plans. It’s too easy to get trapped into the next cycle. So I’m purposefully making myself not make decisions.

While it’s been hard to let go of this dream I’m happy with what I’ve been able to accomplish. The messages of encouragement that I’ve gotten this year have truly helped me during some frustrating moments. I do have one ask, if you’ve read this word vomit this far, this journey has spoken to you on some level. May is Vasculitis Awareness Month and as I do every year I try to use my running to raise awareness and funds for the Vasculitis Foundation. This year we’ve set a goal of $5000. With a few days left we are a little short of this goal. If you have been a part of this journey over any parts of the last 24 years, I ask that if you can please donate to the Vasculitis Foundation here. The VF works tirelessly to help patients and their caregivers all around the world. They have been a monumental help to me and truly given me a group of fellow patients that are now some of my closest friends. Over the next two weeks you’ll see and hear me posting about the VOV campaign and the VF’s mission in an effort to get us across that line. It’s my duty to use this platform to help my community. 

Before I go I do have to thank a few people that have made this journey possible. Without them I probably wouldn’t even be alive, much less racing at a high level. Mom and Dad, I owe you everything. You have been the most supportive and loving parents any human could ever ask for. Coach Tice and Coach Clark, who got me running and ignited this fire when I was just a punk kid who needed direction. Coach Curcio who gave a washed up sick kid a second chance at college running. To my partner Ryanna, who for some reason fell in love with an out of control punk with a rare disease and for the last 10 years has been my voice of reason. And certainly last but not least, James Snyder who has devoted countless hours and untold numbers of legal pads to laying out the mastermind training behind my success. I don’t know of another coach that would have stuck by me through all the ups and downs of the last decade. The odds were always stacked against our dynamic duo, but we loved every second of it.

Running this isn’t goodbye, this is see you around!

With love,

BHudg