Jim Schroeder
AUTHOR

Jim Schroeder

Health & Wellness
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FaceBook Fan Page: http://www.facebook.com/jimschroeder.animal I was born in the same small town Iowa hospital that my two granddaughters were recently born. I grew up in Waverly, Iowa, at first in town for a year that I do not remember but then on an acreage just outside of town, blessed with a pine grove, large yard, potato field, vegetable garden and an old 1940-something Ford with runner boards, all of which have lent me the fondest memories possible. I grew up running: Running to the sand box; running to the back yard; running to the pine grove; running to the neighbors; running to pick wild raspberries; running after my siblings; running from angry buzzing wasps; running for cover from severe electrical storms; running in heat, humidity and frosty cold and snow; running for pure simple joy; running everywhere and anywhere. My sports activities included track, baseball, gymnastics, football and basketball. When not playing sports and finished delivering newspapers at 4:00 am, I fished for bass in the Cedar River. In June 2000, an injury crippled my running life. I had been training for the Adelaide Corporate Cup, running with guys 20 years my junior and at their pace! My 5K time was a sub-20 minutes! Not bad for a fifty-year-old! But every runner knows that speedwork takes a toll on the body, and running hardcore like that resulted in very painful sciatica. I felt discouraged and depressed, and those feelings became apparent in my writing. When I think back to that time, I realize that writing had become my therapy, my way to understand my own fears and to express a hope I did not yet feel. Many of my poems, particularly, "footsteps in the sand" not only reveal my physical pain but also the mental anguish I felt. When the pain from my injury subsided--it took six long months--I felt the adrenaline urge again, but this time I replaced competitive racing with slow, long-distance running. Similarly, my writing style also changed: I started to write how I felt during those long runs in the form of race reports--instead of poetry--to memorialize my ultra-marathon experiences. My running life had finally pushed me forward into positive places on the trails and my spirit of running was renewed.  
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