Running for His Life (page 3 of 3)

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your last name has to have meaning. When I was born, it was a difficult time. It was right after the war. There had been a big drought, crickets attacked the crops -- and then my mother broke her ankle. When I was born, she said, 'This is not my son. This is a son of God.'

Into Another World

Why do people run? That is, why do thousands get up early on Sunday morning and put their knees and ankles and hearts and lungs through the hell of 10,000 meters on asphalt? <br><Br> For those who stick with it and are lucky, they tap into another world: the state of physical and mental grace they reach when they're cruising, when their blood is racing through every vein. <br><Br> And in Austin, those who long to get better, to raise their personal bests, even when at some point they know it's impossible, hang on Gilbert's every word. Some of his students are fanatics, obsessed with each half-second, each curve of the track, each ache and pain. Most just want to run faster. <br><Br> Gilbert's methods are simple. It's all about form: how the arms move (economically, if possible) and the feet land (heel to toe). He pushes his students hard. When they feel like they're about to die, they look at Gilbert's scars -- the burns that continue along his right arm, bubbling the skin like large patches of candle wax, and then to his right leg, which gets darker along the sides of his calf, where the flames ate down to the bone. <br><Br> Whatever they feel, how bad, really, could it be? <br><Br> "He gets people to believe in themselves," says Lisa Spenner, one of the fanatics. "He treats everyone like they're amazing." <br><Br> If Gilbert is their savior, they are his saviors too -- or at least they help answer the question haunting him for a decade now: Why me? <br><Br> "Eventually, I realized I had to help people," he says, "coaching them, telling them my story, telling what happened. When I help people, I feel good." <br><Br> Gilbert spent three months in the hospital, his right leg so badly burned that the knee was stuck at a 90-degree angle. The doctor said it would take six months to heal. Frustrated, Gilbert got on a bike and forcibly unstuck it. The biking led to walking. That led to jogging, which finally led to running a year after he had been left to die. <br><Br> In 1995 Gilbert ran for Burundi in the World University Games in Japan. In 1996, he won a track scholarship to Abilene Christian University, a small Texas school. He was an all-American all three years there, running the 800 and 1,500 meters, and the 8K and 10K. Then he moved to Austin. <br><Br> We're accustomed to Africans, especially East Africans, being the best long-distance runners. Generally, they are. But they're human. They make mistakes. They get hypothermia, as Gilbert did in a February marathon, when he finished in what he considered a disappointing 2:26. They train wrong, as Gilbert did for another race. They get tired. And, as unbelievable as it seems, they doubt themselves. "I've never seen a guy so easily psyched out," says John Conley, Gilbert's agent. "It's his Achilles heel. He thinks, <i>These guys are better than me</i>, and he puts himself in last place. If he could be like Ali and think, <i>I'm the greatest</i>, he'd be unbeatable." <br><Br> In truth, runners don't race other runners. They race against themselves: to conquer their wills, to transcend their weaknesses, to beat back their nightmares. And while a runner can't actually beat himself, he can beat his time. Even years into running, he can get better. So Gilbert spent the spring and summer of 2003 trying to do that, racing men faster than he is, knowing it would make him better. <br><Br> Gilbert's students, of course, keep rooting for him, though sometimes they wonder, <i>How much better can he get?</i> After all, they see him as more than just a runner and a coach. He's a flesh-and-blood symbol, a real-life survivor, a true son of God, a man on a mission both infinitely greater than and remarkably similar to their own: the daily struggle to show what you're made of.
From Reader's Digest - March 2004
 
Texas Monthly (August '03), © 2003 by Texas Monthly, P.O. Box 1569, Austin, TX 78767-1569
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