PACING TOWARDS THE PAIN CAVE
For no reason other than a desire to test my hardiness, I started running. I had never much enjoyed running before and working out even less, but I figured that if I was able to meet the APFT (Army Physical Fitness Test) requirements, this achievement would be symbolic of personal fortitude. I posit that it is personal fortitude and a quest to test one’s own that leads many adherents to a position of discovery at the mouth of the pain cave in the first place. That’s how I found it.
Writer & Runner: Matthew Klassen
I made myself this challenge before I even decided to start running. It was all a part of making the threshold. Did I physically have what it takes to place high on the APFT? The easiest and first place to start for me was the pull-ups; I have been able to 20+ pull-ups since I was 13 years old. Lifting my featherweight has never been a problem. One test easily passed, so far pain free. I have to admit I have always been naturally very athletic and being competitive at the physical activities I participated in never came too difficultly. I have never won at sports at the ultimate level or been the star in that way athletes will understand, but I could always hold my own and would put up a fight doing so. Plus, I haven’t changed in many ways physically since I played sports competitively. I probably have the same body fat percentage as I did then, am the same height (6’4’) and have always been strong for my size (skinny). Now I am the strongest I have ever been, since I live rurally and split copious amounts of firewood. All of this functional strength training made the pushups and sit-ups not too difficult to achieve. The pushups took a week of training to complete the 90 in 2 min to finish competitively and the sit-ups came right away, core strength being a necessary by product of firewood production. This only left the daunting task of running 2 miles.
A little further back story… I had already fallen under the spell of cardiovascular pulmonary exercise a few years ago for the first time in my life, found the mouth of the pain cave and stuck my head deeply inside. I was working at my job with a cyclist of the highest order, having ambitions, that he met I might add, of climbing a million vertical meters in a year. He saw in me both cyclist and potential hill climbing maniac. I didn’t see it yet, and vowed that I would never love riding straight up mountains like he did but agreed to go riding with him on his extra carbon road bike. I proceeded to expel - to him- an impressive Herculean effort, riding a 15% grade in my big ring with barely any gas left in the tank at the top, and conversely blowing up as we rode back to the car, crashing firmly into my lactate threshold. He couldn’t stop laughing as I dry heaved, absolutely astounded by both my natural ability, only ever having been a commuter cyclist in my youth, and how out of shape I was but very willing to go there. I found something special that day, the metaphysical location of the pain cave. My training carried on like this for about a year, and I truly became a hill climbing maniac. A few times a week we would ride up a mountain rife with 15-20% grades for the ensuing 45 min. It was all about pacing, turning the pedals, burying deep and coming out the other side. I realized I couldn’t care less about the descending. Sure we’d reach speeds of 70 km/h and that is it’s own special rush, but to me the rush was riding faster uphill each time, nosing up to that lactate feeling, of dry mouth, of racing heart, of narrow, singular tunnel focus and pushing it further away; keeping it out in front, not on top of me like times previous, and I found I could do it.
More recently, I started running, once my hardiness test required it and I found that same feeling, with even more efficiency. Now I didn’t even need a bike, just shoes and a trail or a stretch of road. Pace once again dictated how close I could get to the pain cave, running 20% grades felt like spinning in easy gears, fast turnover of feet and smaller steps felt like the shifting of gears. It didn’t take too long to reach my threshold and now my mantra is ‘FASTER’ until that point when the familiar feeling starts. Perseverance is the strongest tool one has when trying to hold a pace running at 90% of their lactate threshold. Right there hanging out on the edge, that uncomfortable place where all extraneous thoughts are extinguished, and the only thing present is a meditative and repetitive word or sound. Now I’m running a lot further than 2 miles, usually a very hilly 10k, as fast as my body will allow, which isn’t always as fast as I would like, or even as far for that matter. To me it always feels like a tempering by fire, and a true test of hardiness; the tempering being a deep source of joy. Plus there is a satisfaction in knowing where you stand. I’d like to note that all of my adult life I have been an avid cannabis user, and while smoking cannabis might seem counterintuitive to cardiovascular pulmonary exercise, I find it to be conducive to the best state of mind for my running, as well as a balm for entering into the pain cave.