Recognition - finally! (by Rob Rayder

By Robert “the Lone Runner” Rayder

15 Born into poverty, Lincoln was faced with defeat throughout his life. He lost eight elections, Twice failed in business, And suffered a nervous breakdown. He could have quit many times –BUT HE DIDN’T. And because he didn’t quit, He became one of The Greatest Presidents in the History of our Country.

— Alexandria Levit Eleven years it’s been since that first rambling rendition.

Eleven years ago, the Obama administration had just come into power after replacing George W. Bush, the first new president of the 21st century. The California’s supreme court upheld its ban on samesex marriage. The unemployment rate reached 8.1%, the highest rate since 1983. The new generation of young people, which would ultimately be called the “Millennials,” had no agreed-upon term to describe the youthful demographic (although “Generation Y” was popular.) They would face a brutal job market that would hinder their professional progress for many years. Those frustrated millions, seemingly denied the American dream promised by their parents and grandparents, would thus reshape the U.S. pollical and social landscape. It was the beginning of a revolution that would ultimately replace the “Baby Boom” generation as the most significant political and social force of the time.

I was raising two teenage girls and a pre-teen boy while doing my best to balance the demands of my professional and personal lives.

I’d stared the ominous age-40 barrier square in the face and came out the other side of that frightening encounter with a brand-new obsession called “distance running.” My new hobby consumed me. I was possessed. I would ultimately run 16 separate marathons in that first 12-month period. It still stands as my record for the most running I’ve ever done in a single year. The reasons for the birth of that obsession were not hard to find. They are the familiar themes of those entering middle age, the infamous “mid-life crisis.”

Today I accept the term “old” when a young person describes me as such. Back then, I raged against it. “I am NOT old!” I told myself. “I’m still the same “young man” I’ve always been.” I fought the inevitable march of the years to prove to myself that time could somehow be halted, or at least slowed. Life was going by way too fast.

“I can still do extraordinary things,” I would defiantly proclaim. “Just watch me!” So, I found something extraordinary in the long miles and recklessly dove in head first.

Thus began the grand adventures of my “middle years.” It is a phase that has led to some of the greatest experiences of my life. I’ve run to the top of Pike’s Peak, up the oxygen-starved miles of the Barr Trail, and back down again.

My madness has taken me across the moon-like Lava fields of Kona, Hawaii, and to the lofty crater of Mauna Loa, the largest mountain of Earth (as measured from the Sea Floor) from which those rocky fields were born.

My battle against the ravages of time has taken me to run in the famous marathons of Boston, New York, Chicago, Disney, Honolulu, Napa Valley, Little Rock, Big Sur, Nashville, Highway 66, San Francisco and Stockholm.

It has led me to tiny places like Grand Island in Michigan, Sylamore in Arkansas, Mount Desert Island in Maine, Seabrook in Texas, Huntington Beach in California, the Superstitious Mountains in Nevada, Grandfather Mountain in North Carolina, Tacoma in Washington, the New Jersey Shores in … well … New Jersey, and even to tiny Frozen Head State Park in Tennessee.

The adventures found in all of these places, and