Adam Helmer's Run

This fictionalized excerpt is from Drums Along the Mohawk, by Walter D. Edmonds. The story is set in New York's Mohawk Valley during the American Revolution. Adam Helmer was a scout who was running to warn the settlers at German Flats of an impending attack (directed by British agents) from the Mohawks. The straight line distance he had to run was 30 miles. His actual route was far from straight, it was winding and hilly. Trailed by a pack of running warriors, Adam was MOTIVATED to run fast. The Mohawks had been trying to run him down (over a woodland trail and across streams) with "surge" tactics - one man sprinting up at a time, while the other warriors pace themselves until it's their turn.

"As he chanced a backward glance, he saw that the Indians were going to try and run him down now. The new man was there and it was evident that he was their best man...

The Indians' legs moved with great rapidity. He had already taken his tomahawk from his belt as if he were confident of being able to haul up on the white man. The gesture gave Adam the incentive he needed. He was enraged, and he took his rage out in his running ...

It was the greatest running the Indian had ever looked at. He knew he was licked, and he started slowing up very gradually. By the time Adam hit the woods, the Indian had stopped and sat down by the roadside.

When Adam looked back from the woods, the Indian wasn't even looking at him. He was all alone in the clearing and he was futilely banging the ground between his legs with his tomahawk. Adam knew he had made it. He did not stop, nor even let down quickly on his pace. All he had to race now was time. He would have laughed if he could have got the breath for it. Time? Time, hell!”

Which just goes to show some runs are not about time nor distance!

True Story of the Historic Run Which Carried the Warning of Brant's Indian Raid to German Flats

Necropolis

Italy: I had no idea what a necropolis was or what one looked like, but I was curious. I had to check it out, so I decided to run there.

I ran past olive groves, vineyards, cows with huge bells around their necks, and farmers on tractors — towards the Adriatic Sea and the seaside cliff where the “city has of the dead” was located. When I reached the cliff, I saw shallow indentations carved into the ground and up the sides of the cliff. They were empty but years ago they held the remains of hundreds of men, women, and children. This was their final destination.

I slowed down and then stood still for several moments, gazing into the empty tombs. Suddenly my awareness focused entirely on my breath. All I could hear was my breathing! All I could think was, “one breath.” The only difference between me and the former inhabitants of the necropolis was a single breath!

At that moment, standing in that place, I realized how truly wonderful it was to be alive and breathing! Taking a breath is the first thing we all do at birth and the last thing we all do as we die. In between birth and death, each breath is new and different. Each breath marks a specific moment in time, a specific location in space, and a specific experience in life. Each and every breath in this one, precious life is a treasure.

I ran to the necropolis several more times while I was in Italy. The hours, kilometres, and breaths “spent” running to and from that destination were priceless. The “city of the dead” inspired my running mantra, “first … last.” It was the time and place that taught me the importance of living in the moment, step-by-step … one breath at time.

"I don't run to add days to my life, I run to add life to my days." - Ronald Rook