“It’s just a number, or is it?” I said to myself. And after returning to the hotel by girlfriend said, “It’s just a number”, but even after hearing it in my head and from her, there seemed to be more to it than that. Was it really just a number?

The number, in this case, was one that had been building for nearly three decades. Some might call it a streak and I guess that would be appropriate, but I looked at it in a different light.

To me the streak of finishing every race that I had started was more like a badge of courage. It was something that said who I was and what I did. It meant I had grit and determination and would rather DIE than DNF. Well I guess I would have to really look seriously if that situation ever would have risen.

Did Not Finish is something I thought followed the name on the results page for the weak at heart, those that couldn’t muster the strength to carry on, move forward, and finish what they started. It was not meant for me; I always felt that. I entered races to finish races and would never start one if I did not believe I could finish it.

Yet, over the years, I entered races when I had a little doubt as to my ability to finish, or at least my ability to do well. I challenged myself and put myself on the edge, where yes, it was possible that I might not finish this thing. It made the race more exciting.

I would run back-to-back races, a 50-mile race one day and a marathon race the next. I would run a 24-hour, record-performing race one weekend in California, fly back to Sheboygan, home of Wigwam Mills, Inc. and the best socks in the world and then leave a few days later for Taiwan to run a World Championship 100K.

I would arrive the day before the race and run the next morning, winning the world title for my age group and then leave that same evening, at midnight, to catch an early flight home, to get to work the following day.

Taking a risk is one way to challenge myself, when things seem to be going too easily. I find it difficult to stay motivated if a 50-mile or 100K, or even a 24-hour event, becomes ho-hum. Adding something to the mix, like several weekends of marathons or ultra marathons goes to my heart and who I am as a runner.

I was challenged in many ways during my lifetime, chain smoking, obesity, binge drinking, indebtedness, and they all led to poor self-esteem. Running gave me my life back. Running challenged me to take control of my life. Running placed stumbling blocks and hurdles in front of me and I found that I enjoyed breaking through the walls and jumping over the hurdles that I created.

Those obstacles became part of the package of what running was meant to be, for me. Could I run faster? Could I run further? Could I win a race? Could I win a national championship or world championship? Could I break an American record? Could I break a World record? Could I always finish the race? I knew if I didn’t try, then I wasn’t getting everything out of running that I expected and it seemed less interesting or challenging.

My first DNF was painful, not just because of the injury, but when it happened. I was leading a pace group to a finish of 3:20 or under in a marathon. I felt an obligation to those around me who placed their confidence in me, to lead them to their time goal and qualify them for the Boston Marathon. I practically guaranteed it. I had led marathon pace groups many times before and met the time goal we had targeted.