Perhaps the question that runners and specifically ultrarunners are most frequently asked is, why do you do it, why do you run those crazy a** long distances, or something to that effect. In a future posting I plan to share some insight to the why question as it applies to my own running; today I'm think more about the how question - how do you keep at it? How do you get started when the will is weak and the mental/emotional/spiritual gas tank reads empty?

I find that winter is the hardest time to train. Here in western PA the sun almost completely disappears in October and goes into hiding until April. The daytime sky is a leaden grey hanging heavily, oppressively over the deep snow. Trees now bare stretch their skeletal arms in supplication, longing with the passerby for the return of light and warmth. It's challenging to stay motivated. Today, as I wear and orthopedic shoe and support myself with crutches, it's even harder to take action when the couch and the television promise immediate, albeit short lived, pleasure. So what do I do? What helps to keep me moving forward when Mohican is just shy of five months off and seems as remote as the moon on this day when the temperature peaked at 22 and a foot of snow blankets the lawn? I set intermediate goals, count on others to ask how my training is going (to which I want to have a positive reply), and plan to run tune-up events between now and June that provide a greater sense of immediacy.

In my current condition, as I swing around on crutches with a pin projecting from the side of my foot my routine has consisted of light work with weights, pull-ups, ab exercises and riding a bike that rests on a wind trainer. Four days remain until the moment of truth when the pin comes out and I begin to learn to run.

Theodore Roethke's "In A Dark Time" has been food for my soul these past couple of months, first as I faced challenges at work, now as I heal post foot surgery. Kirk Johnson introduced the poem to me through his book to the Edge - since then I've revisited often to eat, chewing slowly on lines affirming Roethke's understanding of our runner brains.

When we take to the trails, the track, the roads for long runs free of iPods and MP3players we come face to face with ourselves, "meet[ing our] shadow[s] inthe deepening shade; hear[ing our] echo in the echoing wood". How many of us have been considered Mad or Crazy? Roethke asks "What's madness but nobility of soul at odds with circumstance?" He later adds "a man goes far to find out what he is." Isn't that what we take away from our runs? Beyond time and distance, places in races, we meet ourselves and find out who we are. Through the long runs, a moving meditation, "The mind enters itself, and God the mind, and one is One, free in the tearing wind."

Right now I'm a healing bird who dreams of learning to fly. Dropping the weight that I've accumulated since college and taking flight again.

Metaphorically I have a broken wing. My foot is on the mend post bunion surgery and I'm wondering if I'll recover in time for a 100 miler in June. Only time will tell.

The Mohican 100 Mile Trail Run takes place 154 days from today. This will be the 7th year that I toe the starting line. If my preparation is sufficient and I reach my goal of completing the course within the time limit, feeling healthy and appreciative of those who have helped me, then I will set a record for being the individual who has started the most times before actually finishing Mohican.

I returned home and sought referrals for a skilled podiatrist. Once identified, I made an appointment.

You have a bunion, he said.

Bunion? Aren't I too young for bunions? Oh, ho, ho! Did I have a lot to learn.

Together we look at Xrays of my foot - he pointed out that the big toe was turned in at a 17 degree angle and that he suggested a bunionectomy to resolve the issue.

2005 seemed like the year that I'd cross the finish line for the first time. The stars aligned, training went well, a talented crew travelled to Loudonville to support and pace me. Although afraid at the start I settled in to a quiet confidence and enjoyed the day. Unfortunately I ran out of steam at 75 miles and called it a run.

In 2006 I was ill prepared for the heat! My feet also hurt. After the water crossing a volunteer noticed my left foot as I changed from the wet shoes and socks I'd worn across the stream into dry pairs that waited for me. Seeing blisters the size of small puffed pastries clinging to my foot he asked if I'd be interested in having a podiatrist examine my foot. Relief! That sounded like relief.

She dried and taped my foot then told me that if I wanted to resolve the problem (I thought it was just blisters) I'd need to see a podiatrist when I returned home.

I'm a plodder. Although I've completed 50 miles 25 times over the past 10 years I haven't set any records, haven't flown over the course. But I have run 50. In November I completed my 10th consecutive JFK 50 mile run and broke 12 hours for the first time.

A runner friend shared his nutrition plan with me - I used it in the race and it made a big difference. I ran with friends the entire way - that made a difference, too.