《Runner Man》电子书下载地址：

Runner Man-confessions of a miler _Brad Hill_2010.pdf
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《Runner Man》简介：

"Running is a lot like life. Only 10 percent of it is exciting. 90 percent of it is slog and drudge." (Dave
Bedford, English distance runner). Or as they say for the Chicago 13.1, running is where the party meets the
pavement. I run to win, pure and simple, but in 45 years of running, I have won only three times. You will
read about these astounding victories below. OK, contain your excitement please. I have finished last more
than I have finished first. Most of life is in-between, being the bubble centered at the top of life's bell-curve.
Sometimes you tilt one way and you slide to the front. Sometimes you tip the other and slide to the rear. I
wear New Balance shoes, but for the reverse reason. Life is not about balance, but imbalance. The imbalances
drive us, provoke us, thwart us, and overcome us. It is the sliding up and down, back and forth in life that
makes it sweet and lusty. Running is therapy, it is weight-control, it is about willpower and self-analysis. It is
spirituality with laces. Running teaches us lessons of life, but how we run and why we run reflect the lessons
of life already learned.

I will take you through my life as a runner and teach you all you need to know about both running and life...
Preface
On any given day, guts and will can prevail over talent and ability...but not usually. Don't bet on it.
No pain, no gain- true in moderation. More pain means not sane.
I am on the last lap of life. This is what the actuarial tables tell me. At 60, I, statistically speaking, have
another twenty years. But who knows. I may only have another hundred yards before I cross The Finish Line.
Or another 800 meters. Maybe just the final, 4th lap. So I had better plan for the longer run, just in case.
In my half century of running I have learned a number of very important lessons, most of which escape me
now. Running in Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of Congo, then Zaire, I learned, for example, to watch for
open man-holes. That was a very painful lesson. I'll never forget it, but then I'll probably never need to
remember it either. Another lesson...if you sprint for the end but miscount your laps, that last lap is hell. But
for a moment I was in the lead. I thought I had actually won a race! People were cheering me on as I pushed
to the front of the pack...but I wondered why there was no tape. Then the bell rang and I knew I was damned.
In the end I finished dead last, walking across the line. Nobody was cheering. But you know what? It was
worth it. So the lesson? Grab your moment of fame because the moment of shame is not far behind. Don't
blame you if don't really like that lesson.
Most of my life I have been tall and lean. As a child, though, I was somewhat chubby and not very
coordinated. Now of course I can ride a Unicycle and sometimes beat my wife at a game of Horse ...not at the
same time mind you. But as a child, I took my share of being chosen last for the team. I had a reputation for
dropping the ball and striking out. One day we were playing kickball and I got my vengeance. Somehow I had
managed to get on base. The "up" boy kicked the ball and I ran towards second only to be stopped by John
Black. He had caught the ball and now faced me. He was going to hit me with the ball and I would be out. It
was like shooting fish in a barrel...a big fish with a shotgun actually. John was The Guy. An official bona fide
athlete. Excelled at every sport. He could climb a rope with just his arms. He looked at me and smiled. I had
about as much chance to escape this hit as the basket had of escaping MJ's final championship-winning shot.
Then it all went into slow motion. I visualized him throwing it just a bit too high, aiming for my torso. I saw
myself falling flat and the ball going over me. I then would sprint for home and win the game and John would
be the chump and I would be the champ. He raised the ball over his head with both arms, slowly...he heaved it
just a bit too high...the ball floated towards me and I dropped flat. His arms came down and the ball sailed
towards me...and over my head because I was indeed flat on the ground. John looked stunned that he had
missed. I jumped up, touched third, and ran for home. John ran after the ball, but it was too late. The crowd,
meaning a couple of girls including one named Bunny, and the playground supervisor, were silent. John
walked back to the pitchers "mound" and looked at me. He was angry at me. We had never been friends, but
now we were antagonists. It was like Michelle Wei beating Tiger Woods on the final hole. They would never
by Brad Hill 2
date after that. This is a running story, not a kickball story, because I ran the bases. First lesson: a flop in time
saves your behind. Second lesson, shaming the Guy and making him your adversary is always worth the
moment of glory. Like the father said in Friday Night Lights, the State championship ring is all you will
probably get in life, so make the most of it. Third lesson, ignore the girls on the sideline except for "Bunny."
If you play to them, you'll lose your way. They would have cheered for the Black, but not for his slayer.
Lastly, visualization is crap. The ball wasn't really in slow motion. It was all luck combined with fear but we
take wins any way we can get them.

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