Between The Miles - A Daughter's Perspective

Introduction

 (photo credit: Anthony Brantly)

      It is my opinion that competitive runners are a special breed of athlete. Within the sport are sub-groups of runners who experiment with distances and varying levels of difficulty. My father likes long distances and he loves the trails. My most standards, my father would be considered primarily an ultra-runner, with fifty miles as a favorite racing distance. In his late seventies now, he continues to enter races with distances between ten kilometers, up to fifty miles. There are articles dating back to the 1980s that speak of his wins and accomplishments,  and over the past twenty years, there have been interviews regarding his continued running throughout five separate bouts of cancer, several radical surgeries, and many rounds of radiation. He's broken bones from falls on the trail and survived being run over by an SUV while road-cycling with friends. I promise you, none of these stories need embellishment. They are, and he is, simply amazing.

     This book has taken me over a decade to write and is a labor of love. While I want to bring you stories and highlights of his running life, what I truly want to write about most is what it was like growing up as the youngest child of Wayne P. Miles. I write about his running, his endurance through his cancers, his parenting, his accomplishments, and his humanity from my point of view with the help of family and friends along the way. I hope you'll enjoy your journey with me "Between the Miles."

Sitting down with my father on the first day I began this writing journey in 2016.

Me: "I'm going to interview you many times throughout this process and I'll ask random questions and follow-ups. I'll even ask you questions I've asked before. Try to give me the first answer that comes to  your mind because I think your answers sometimes change depending on what mood you're in. So, here we go! What is running, in your opinion?"

Dad: "Hmmm... running is affection for and a love of the trails and the people that make up the running community. I love being around them, seeing them, hearing about their races. I think I have to enter an event or two because if I don't, it will never be more than a pedestrian thing. It started as a release of stress, and I look back at the times when you kids were little and someone in the family would ask, 'Have you run today?' I think it made me a better person to be around because it helped to dissipate stress and anxiety and maybe mellowed me out... some."

Me: "Why did you move from shorter distances and marathons to long distances, the ultras?"

Dad: "I don't know. It seemed to be what I liked most, but I might have to settle for the short stuff now. I'd like to run the 100 yard dash when I'm 85. It'll be like watching a parked car, but I still want to do it. There is more to running than just running. You have to have respect for other runners, respect for the places you run, and respect for yourself especially in ultras. It's important to stand in front of the mirror and know who you are. As an ultra-runner, you know if you're a coward or not. I folded a few times and it's not a good feeling. You never get over it. And in an ultra, more than shorter distances, you get to be competitive with yourself."

Me: "Finish this sentence for me: Running is not...?"

Dad: "I'll get back to you." ...He hasn't yet, and I've asked twice.

Me: "You're a competitive runner, but what does being competitive mean to you?"

Dad: "Competitive runners will understand everything I say, other runners won't understand. A competitive runner starts the race going hard enough to risk failing. A lot of runners start a race, just to finish. For me, if you've never dropped out of a race, you've never really raced. If you've never quit, you've never really tested your limits or run hard enough. People go through life like that. They never put themselves on the line because they might fail. I think, it's the people who have failed and failed and failed, who have had the richest lives. Some people are good enough that they don't have to test themselves and they still win. God bless'em. Those of us who were average and were still able to win, we had to test it out. I consider myself no better than average."

Me: "What do you have to say about cancer?"

Dad: "......(long pause).........Right this minute? Nothing."