The Song of the Ungirt Runners
By CHARLES HAMILTON SORLEY
We swing ungirded hips,
And lightened are our eyes,
The rain is on our lips,
We do not run for prize.
We know not whom we trust
Nor whitherward we fare,
But we run because we must
Through the great wide air.
The waters of the seas
Are troubled as by storm.
The tempest strips the trees
And does not leave them warm.
Does the tearing tempest pause?
Do the tree-tops ask it why?
So we run without a cause
‘Neath the big bare sky.
The rain is on our lips,
We do not run for prize.
But the storm the water whips
And the wave howls to the skies.
The winds arise and strike it
And scatter it like sand,
And we run because we like it
Through the broad bright land.
I never anticipated becoming a runner when we moved to Syracuse three years ago. I’d been an avid cyclist in high school and college when I lived in Honeoye. I’d taken the sport up again in my 30s and 40swhen we lived in Pittsburgh, but I drifted away from cycling after 2012.
Running was a different matter altogether, which is actually quite unfortunate. The mile run in gym class was the one event I excelled at in high school. It was also the only time I ran any distance—until last year.
While we never had kids, I had developed quite the dad bod by the time we packed up and moved to central New York to be closer to my parents. I started taking daily walks around our new home, but my rather leisurely pace meant that I only shed a few pounds.
My father once told me that the body really begins to fall apart at 50. He was unexpectedly prescient: I turned 50 shortly after our move. A few months later, I was in the hospital with a deep vein thrombus in my left left, a saddle embolus above my heart, and clots spread throughout the arteries in my lungs.
I had no family history of clotting; my genetic tests revealed nothing. I was among the 30% of patients with unprovoked clots.
I got off easy—four days of heparin and bed rest—and the probability of taking blood thinners for the rest of my life.
Nothing was said about my weight when I was in the hospital, but the extra pounds probably did nothing for my veins before the clots, and they were most certainly a liability afterwards as I limped my way through the first few weeks of my recovery.
My walks grew longer and faster. I made a series of small changes to my diet. I didn’t set any specific goals—but the pounds came off. I carried 216 pounds on my six foot frame into the hospital in March, 2018; I was under 180 a year later.
The walking helped to moderate the pain and discomfort in my leg, but the soreness and tingling often kept me up at night. I wondered if more intense exercise might mitigate the symptoms further.
I also believe that on some level, I craved the competition and camaraderie I missed from cycling. I toyed with the idea of running in the months after my hospitalization but never acted on it. An ad for the Syracuse Half Marathon last summer gave me a goal, and I took the plunge last July. I’ve been hooked ever since.
This site reflects my journey as a runner, and I also hope to share information about Syracuse’s rich running culture with perspective athletes. To that end, I’ll post descriptions of local races, reviews of various gear, and random thoughts somewhat related to the sport of running. I’ve organized the site, which primarily consists of blog posts, around categories for easy navigation.
I’m still pretty green, so take my advice with a grain of salt.
When I’m not running, adding to my shoe collection, or visiting the local Fleet Feet, I teach classes at Onondaga Community College, SUNY Morrisville, and Le Moyne College. I’m fond of reading, walking, and photography.
And the site’s namesake? More often than not, I train on Syracuse’s Onondaga Creekwalk, a 2.6 mile long trail within easy walking distance of our house.
I welcome comments on the posts, and I may be reached directly by email through the form posted below.