I went for a run today. I probably shouldn’t have. Couldn’t help myself. People say that running is hard, but for runners, not running is just as hard. My left knee needs a break, and I have been pretty good about letting it rest, but with some mild winter weather we’re having, I couldn’t help myself. It feels better, or maybe feels good enough to give a short run a try.
I chose my typical route to the forest preserve, and within the first quarter mile, I was already feeling some knee discomfort. I thought about shutting it down, but my previous experience with this injury told me that it would loosen up. Fortunately, it did; my pace picked up, and I carried on my merry way. The catchall “runner’s knee” type injury can mean several things, but this one seems to let me actually run. It’s just the post-run knee achiness that gives one pause.
Five hours post-run and my knee is feeling sore again. I’ve never been a running gizmo guy, but after trying and having some success with the knee straps I have been wearing (which I unfortunately forgot for today’s run), I saw an advertisement about red light therapy on Facebook. I swear, Facebook can read my mind, or is spying on me. I did a little googling into it and found some on the almighty e-tail website that everyone uses, with some good reviews, so I bought one to give it a go. I wrapped the dumb thing around my knee and hit the ON button, which brings it to life and starts to warm and massage my knee slightly, in addition to zapping me with whatever red light and near-infrared light thing it has. The jury is out on this gizmo, but I have only used it for two days now. We’ll see.
The coach-wife says I need to stretch more. She’s probably right. I stretched at work for a little bit today. I’ll try to remind myself every day to do that.
When runners who love to run can’t, they do a lot of crazy things to keep themselves going, everything that is except the thing they need to do – stop running. But running is life for me, and I can’t just stop doing it. I won’t stop doing it.
A couple of days ago, my coworker, knowing that I have my afternoons off, asked what I was going to do that afternoon. She also probably already knew the answer as well.
“Probably go for a run,” was my response.
“Really? It looks so cold and dreary outside.”
She knows that I run, and it shouldn’t be a surprise to her that my response would include a run in my spare time. But her questioning my commitment to running in what looked like less than ideal conditions was making me rethink going for a run. I had run seven miles the day before, and that day was exactly like today. Truthfully, I was already committed to running regardless of whether the sun was shining or not.
I got home, and as usual, I walked the dog around the neighborhood. I was feeling chilled, and was now thinking about maybe just going for a walk instead. Once back from the dog walk, I went upstairs and immediately changed into running gear. Sometimes you just have to commit to something, and this was one of those times.
I overdressed for the run – no surprise there – based on being cold on the walk with the dog, but since I was going at a slow pace, I was comfortable and not sweating too much. By the time I got home, I was glad that I had made the effort to go for a run. Most runs end with me patting myself on the back for following through on completing a run, especially when I really didn’t want to do it. I’ve always said that the hardest step of any run is that first one. I’m glad I took that step today. The run was really enjoyable. I’ll probably go for a run again tomorrow.
I gambled and lost. I thought that I could sneak in a 12-mile run before a predicted thunderstorm, but how dumb is that? You don’t just sneak in twelve miles. Two or three, maybe, but not twelve. However, that is what I tried to do, and I hoped that the radar on my weather app, which was showing nothing, was correct.
It was sunny as I headed out for this run, and I even put on some sunscreen before leaving – 😄. It was a warm and humid day, and I was contemplating which route to take: the shady out-and-back on the main trail, or the trail along the road that I had been running lately, which had a headwind. I found myself pondering what was more beneficial for a long run on a day like this. Would shade keep me cooler? Or would having a breeze blowing on me feel cooler? In the end opted for the breezy route and skipped the main trail because I’m getting tired of having bikes whizz past me. As you can see, getting caught in a thunderstorm was not even a consideration.
Storm or no storm, I was soaked by mile five. Sweat was dripping from my visor, and I had almost drained my water bottle dry. At mile 6.5, I stopped and refilled my water bottle, and could clearly see that the skies were no longer clear and sunny. But it wasn’t looking threatening at all, so I soldiered on.
As I got off the trail that runs along the roadway and hopped back onto the main trail, I heard my first little rumble of thunder. As I got to mile 8.5, I could feel a rain drop or two, and I decided that maybe I should stop taking the walk breaks and start hoofing it back in. At about 9 miles into the run, the thunder and lightning were now becoming very common. I could handle running in the rain, but the lightning was becoming very, very frightening! I knew that the nature preserve up ahead had some shelters to get out of the storm, and I hot-footed it there as quick as I could. As soon as I got there, the skies unloaded.
I sat down on a metal chair under this small shelter and thought that maybe that wasn’t the best place to sit. There was a guy walking up the trail, and I was waving him over to join me, but he had other ideas. Soon after, a runner that I see on the trail frequently also blew by my invitation to join me. I wonder how that turned out for them? It was pouring now, and the wind was blowing the downpour directly at me, so I got up and found the smallest dry spot that I could find to stay out of the rain. Between the temperature drop that accompanied the storm and the winds blowing misty rain at me, I was now starting to feel a little cold.
It doesn’t look like much of a storm, but it was angry while I was in it.
I spent about five minutes there, and when I could sense that the rain was letting up a bit, I decided I would be better off in the larger picnic shelter not far away. I took off, and the rains picked up again, naturally. Upon reaching the picnic shelter, I was met by a cyclist who chuckled at me coming in laughing. He wasn’t wet at all, and frankly, I was wet from sweat prior to this storm happening. But now I was wet head to toe, and I was glad to have a companion to wait the storm out. We chatted about bikes a little bit, and then he pulled out his phone and declared that the radar was showing that the storm was almost over. It had let up a little, and as he pushed his bike back to the trail, I figured that I could make it the two miles home fairly quickly.
I wasn’t a half-mile into the run when the thunder and lightning returned, and the rain started coming down hard again. I climbed the hill and decided to head under the canopy of the many trees. Being under trees in a downpour is useless, as I was getting soaked. As I watched the rain cascade down the paved path on the hill, I saw a frog joyfully hopping across to the other side of the trail. This storm is starting to become weird. After about five minutes standing there, I started getting attacked by mosquitoes, so off I went down the trail again, only to be greeted with more lightning and thunder directly over me. Back to the canopy of trees! I waited there for about 10 minutes and could sense the rain coming to a stop. I continued on toward home, hoping that my need for shelter was unnecessary. Upon getting home, the skies opened up again, and once inside, I was thankful to shed my clothes and jump in the shower to get cleaned up. I really didn’t want to get more wet, but a shower was needed after that trek.
I’m sure I have been caught in the rain before, but other than the downpour I endured during the 2018 Boston Marathon, and one time at Leon’s World’s Fastest Triathlon, when the swim was the driest portion of the race, I don’t remember a situation quite like this one on a training run. It was one for the memory books, for sure.
Typically before a run workout a wise runner might warm up with some walking or light jogging before hitting the start button on their watch. After the workout, a cool-down might also be utilized to bring the heartrate down and get the body temperature to be less hot.
I was never much for either a warm-up or cool-down. In my younger running days, I would walk about a third of a mile before and after a run thinking I was a smart runner. In races, I almost always did a jog/run with some up-tempo strides prior to the race just to get the juices flowing. And then followed it up with a short easy cool-down back out on the course, which was probably a total jerk move, and looking back I can’t believe I used to do that. I never warmed up or cooled down before/after a marathon. The warm-up was done in the first 3-5 miles, and the cool-down was done as a shuffle heading back to the car or hotel.
Today I ran outside and nearly froze myself. Early December is here, and it wasn’t quite freezing, but the wind chill was brutal. I had planned to run eight miles, but the sun had taken a pass on the rest of the day, and the “warm-up” walk around the block with the dog made me question any run outside. I swapped a windbreaker for a running jacket, and out I went thinking maybe five miles was more in line with my current comfort level. I got to the two-mile mark and decided to turn around.
Upon getting home I had the realization that I was in need of both a warm-up and a cool-down, as I was still freezing but I was also sweaty and tired from the quicker pace due to the stupid temperature that I ran in. That was a new one for me. By mid-February, I will probably be out there on a similar day wearing much less running gear. Until then, I’m picking my outdoor running battles and hoping to avoid the warm-up/cool-down.
I have been fortunate to have lived near several great bike/walk/run paths as an adult. In my early running days, I loved running on the Green Bay Trail in Highland Park, Illinois. I would typically run this trail from Highland Park five miles out to Winnetka and then return home. A relocation to the Western suburbs of Chicago presented me with the option of running on the Great Western Trail and the Illinois Prairie Path. And I have spent more than half of my 35 years running at the local Hickory Creek Nature/Forest preserve paths and the Old Plank Road Trail (aka Old Plank Trail or OPT), where I see lots of locals also out enjoying the paths.
Over those many miles and years, I have seen quite a few faces over and over again. I call these people “regulars,” and even though I may not know them by name, we are pretty familiar with each other. Sometimes I will have a brief conversation with them, learn their name, and find out their reason for being out on the trail, but most times we just pass by with a nod or a wave. I thought that I might highlight a few, some I haven’t seen in a long time, and some fairly new. So, in no particular order, here are some of The Regulars.
Shirtless Tall Guy – One of the more recent regulars is a tall, fit guy in his 30s who runs shirtless, loping along at a relaxed pace, but I have seen him running fast on occasion as well. We usually give a brief wave when we pass each other, acknowledging the fact that we are always out on the trail pounding the pavement. I’m not sure if he runs to compete, or just runs for the pleasure of it. I envy his effortless-looking gait and often think that he would be a great distance runner if he wasn’t already.
Buford Pusser – In the 70s there was a movie called Walking Tall, telling the tale of a Southern sheriff who meted out justice by carrying a rather sturdy baseball bat-sized stick. There’s a local guy who walks the trail who reminded me of that character. I hadn’t seen ol’ Buford on the trail in quite a while, but recently there he was, walking along and carrying the four-foot-long thick dowel rod that he carries like he’s going to have to fend off a wolf pack attack. I usually run by this guy with caution, but I don’t fear him.
Wrong Side Wheelchair Lady – I encounter this lady all the time in the hilly nature preserve trail and she’s always on the wrong side of the trail. She used to have a friend who would walk along with her but I haven’t seen her friend in a long time. Lately, she has been singing classic rock songs at the top of her lungs while pushing herself up the hills. I’d probably be more friendly to her if she wasn’t always on the wrong side of the trail.
Baby Jogger Mom – This redhead with a wolf tattoo on her back shoulder used to push her newborn in a stroller in the preserve and I would see her nearly every run. Then she disappeared for a while, later to return with a double-wide stroller and two kids! But she seems to be fading quickly from the ranks of the regulars, as I haven’t seen her in quite a while.
Mario! – A long-time runner, this guy reminds me of Mario from the arcade game. He’s been out there as long as I have, and we just keep putting in the miles.
Will County Forest Preserve Lady – An older lady who wears a pullover-type top emblazoned with the logo of the forest preserve is one of the older regulars on the trail. A taller, thinner lady who I see often on the Old Plank Trail in Frankfort. There used to be a trail sentinel program run by the forest preserve district, so maybe she wears the pullover from that. Not sure.
Bill – Mostly a midday runner like myself, I encountered this local guy quite often, usually crossing the railroad tracks where the make-shift path gets me into the nature preserve. He was always friendly, and at one of the crossings, I took a moment to chat him up. He said his name was Bill and that he runs about four miles nearly every day. He doesn’t race and thinks the distances I run are crazy. But anyway, he’s a nice guy.
Curly-headed Guy – I used to see this curly-headed guy all the time running on the OPT and one day we stopped at a road crossing together and I introduced myself. He was wearing an Ironman visor and I had to at least say hello to a fellow Ironman. Turns out his name is Charlie and we are now good friends and follow each other on Facebook. He tends to ride more than run nowadays, but we are always joking about wanting to be each other when we grow up.
Bike Pusher Guy – I have passed people on bikes while running in the past, and although the speed needed to do that has long left me, but occasionally I come upon Bike Pusher Guy. This guy is older than me and doesn’t ride his bike very fast, and he always hops off and pushes it up the hills. Friendly guy, and we see each other often.
Me – I guess I’m a trail regular as well. I often wonder what others think of me as I jog by huffing and puffing in my sweaty clothes. Well, if you become a regular make sure to say hello to me because I’m always up for a chat.
I mowed the lawn the other day. It didn’t need it. I just did it to take my mind off the elephant in the room – it’s race week and the Chicago Marathon is Sunday. It’s on my mind constantly.
You would think that I would be used to pre-race jitters by now. This will be my 23rd marathon (if you count the five Ironman marathons, and I do), and tenth Chicago Marathon total. I’m not new to this, and I know that once I start moving forward everything will be okay. But damn, the nerves are kicking in hard.
To start, I didn’t get an email with the packet pick-up QR code that you need to get your bib and t-shirt at the expo. I got every other damn email they sent me to remind me about everything regarding the race, but not that one. It wasn’t in my inbox, my junk folder, or in the e-trash bin. Trust me I checked, numerous times. I posted that I didn’t get the email on r/ChicagoMarathon on Reddit and found that I wasn’t alone. Someone mentioned that they emailed the race and got a new email within a couple of days. So I went with that approach. Crickets. Then I get one of their regular emails stating “Packet Pick-up tickets cannot be resent. Please go to Participant services… at the expo.” Great. Thursday comes and I check my email – lo and behold – a nice email from Kelli thanking me for being a Legacy Finisher and the missing/replacement QR code.
I hate driving into the city, so I looked at the Metra service to get me to the expo. It looked like the Metra Electric line east of me runs by McCormick Place. Perfect. I asked a police officer coworker of mine if that train line was safe, and he strongly suggested not to take it. Interestingly, my Facebook friends mostly said that it would be fine. I rechecked the schedule from another “safer” place to catch the train and it turns out that none of the afternoon trains even stop at McCormick Place. Driving it is.
I found the Chicago Marathon’s suggested parking garage fine, the one with the half-rate cheap parking. But once in there I had no idea where to go. There was no signage, so I found someone who looked like they had just come from there and they directed me to continue going in the direction I was heading. I found some people getting on the elevator and I asked if they were heading to the expo and got a yes. Great. Up the elevator and down the hall and we were there. I was sure that I was going to have trouble finding my way back to the car.
The expo on opening day Thursday wasn’t too bad, and the check-in volunteers were great. I got my envelope with my bib and started heading to the back of the expo to pick up the t-shirt. I wandered through the Nike store with the official race gear and glanced at some of the offerings. I was unimpressed. The quality seemed poor and the prices were crazy. When I saw how long the line was to overpay for cheap stuff, I made my way out of the store and walked to the back for my t-shirt. I have been to the expo numerous times, and there’s really nothing there that I need. I made my way back to the exit but didn’t see where the event posters were located. The volunteer that I asked didn’t have any idea either. I finally found a guy who had one and he pointed me to the booth. I have to have a poster for my basement workout room shrine to myself. (I took an extra one for the shrine at work, too!)
I was right about not knowing my way back to the parking garage. I doubled back two times and finally found the way out. I got my parking ticket validated and was back on the road quickly. Glad I got in and out of the expo. It was underwhelming and just causing further stress.
At home, I began the “nesting” process where you gather all the running crap that I still own and figure out what I will wear and use on race day. Sometimes I will overthink this way too much, and the five different shirt/shorts/socks/visor options will need to shrink down. I also had the bright idea to bring enough gels to eat one every 20 minutes. I’ll look like a clown carrying that many gels. Time to pare that down as well. Eating a gel every 30 minutes has worked well in the past. Why change it now?
Oh, and let’s stress about the weather a little too while we are at it! I’ve been checking the weather app constantly for ten days now, and nothing has really changed. Low 50s (d. F) for the start rising to mid-60s and dry. So the weather looks to be pretty good, and last year’s race had perfect weather and was one of the reasons I signed up to run the race this year. That’s a win. Stop stressing.
I will carbo load on Friday night, and eat a sandwich or something easy Saturday night. I’m not trusting the restaurants downtown, not so much for the food causing issues, but more so for the lack of availability. Maybe some soup and bread with the wife.
I’m staying at the Palmer House Hilton, very close to the start/finish line. I will walk the route to the Jackson Street race day entrance, and then walk from where the exit from the finish line to the hotel in case my wife can’t find me. I can get turned around very easily downtown.
And that reminds me, I bought an Apple AirTag device, which I plan to carry so Kari can track me more precisely. It’s an extra thing that I will have to have on me, but I think it is worth it.
Just writing this stuff down has been a good stress reliever. Now I just have to kill 1 DAY : 16 HOURS : 14 MINUTES: 37 SECONDS until race day. Not that I am counting or anything. Pre-race nerves stink.
I started running for the same reasons most people do – to drop some pounds, feel better, and give this bored guy something to do. Most people lose interest in running after a while, but I caught the competitive bug. I got to a point where I wanted to see if I could add an extra mile, if I could lower that mile pace time, if I could complete a 10K. When I started racing I was hooked and always looking to perform at my best.
Some people can enter a race and not actually race it, but not me. I need to know how I did against others, against the clock, and against my previous efforts. How else do you know how well you are performing if you aren’t comparing yourself to those parameters?
When I race I have found over the years that I will be in the upper middle of the pack, somewhere around 25-30% of the field. This plays out during the race and is very apparent in the results at the end of the race. I have finished in first place overall once, been a top-three age grouper in many other races, and have been squeaked out of a podium finish many, many times. There is always a post-race analysis of the finisher results for me. How did I do overall? How did I do against the other males? Against the other age groupers? Against my past efforts? But does the analysis make me feel any better? Generally, I’m happy to receive any award at all, and if I do better than the average then I am content. However, if I just miss out on getting on the podium, I am going to mull that over for a while. What if I hadn’t pushed too hard at the beginning of the race? What if I didn’t waste so much time in transition from swim to bike? Where could I have gotten faster?
I read an interesting article (Inc. Magazine – Haden, Jeff) today about how counterfactual thinking can affect your happiness. In the article, it points to a study in which the faces of the gold/silver/bronze medallists at the 1992 Summer Olympic Games were examined to determine who was the happiest. Of course, the gold medal winner was happy. But the big surprise was that the bronze medalists were almost always more happy than the silver medalist. The gold medalists came out on top and were super happy. The bronze medalist is the one who beat out all the rest to be in the top three. But the silver medalist is the one who will be thinking about what went wrong.
Counterfactual thinking is an interesting concept. Basically with counterfactual thinking, you find yourself wondering “what if?” in certain outcomes and play out alternatives in your mind. The silver medalists will use upward counterfactual thinking, judging themselves only against the gold medal winner according to the article. They will dwell on the second-place finish, thinking about what they needed to do to win. The bronze medalists often employ downward counterfactual thinking, comparing themselves to the others who missed out on the podium. They are elated not to be in that group. Whew! Pretty interesting concept.
Although I think I’m aging past the point of dwelling on my placement in the field, there’s still the old guy age group that makes a difference for me. But now I have a little more insight into how to make myself feel better about my performances. Being thankful to still be in the hunt is feeling pretty good right now.
A first-place a/g win and two second-place a/g wins at Manteno Triathlon over the years. I think I look pretty happy in all three!
My wife and I head to northern Wisconsin every spring to get our lake home ready for summer, mowing the grass and picking up the hundreds of sticks that seem to gather on the ground. Memorial Day weekend is the perfect weekend for that getaway.
After getting all the chores done and taking a relaxing boat ride on Saturday, the following Sunday was the perfect time to drive to the local trail and get in a short run. As we approached the trailhead the parking lot was packed, and clearly there was a running event going on. I figured it was probably a 5K, so we made the decision to drive up the road to where a street crosses the trail, park, and start our run there. As we parked, we could still see runners heading back into town with race bibs on but it was pretty thinned out. We started running the other direction on the trail and I asked someone what race was going on and she said that it was a 5K/half-marathon/marathon. Here we were crashing another Minocqua trail race.
I’ve done this inadvertently before a few times. Heading up north for Memorial Day and Labor Day generally means I have work around the house to do, and if I run, it’s just to get a training run in – racing is never on my mind. But both holidays seem to have a big race going on. One year I was doing a 20-mile training run while the No Frills Marathon was going on. I got to run with a few of those runners too. Hopefully I will remember and have enough training under my belt to join in officially.
Kari and I were getting lots of “looking good” and “way to go” comments even though we weren’t in the race.
As we headed out most of the runners coming toward us were wearing the half-marathon bibs, and one runner was carrying a 2:00 hour pacing sign, so mostly mid-pack runners at that point. Then came a biker with another runner with a different bib. The leader of the marathon had just run by – with bleeding nipples. Even the elite runners still make the mistake of neglecting to tape the nips!
Kari decided to turn around after a little more than 2 miles, and I said that I’d run another 1/2 mile and then turn around. Just before I turned around I saw another marathoner heading back in, who was clearly struggling. I caught up to him as he was walking and I asked him if he was in the marathon. He replied that he was. I then said to him that he was the number two overall runner, that he had about a 5K to go, and that there was an aid station just ahead. He replied that he was feeling okay, just tired, and that he appreciated the pep talk. I said that I’d hate for him to get passed and lose a podium spot, and offered to pace him a little. He started running again and I picked up my own pace to make sure he got to the aid station. He took on some water and sports drink and I figured at that point he was looking good again.
It wasn’t long after that the third overall marathon leader and the first place woman runner caught me and passed me. This was turning into a very tight battle for second place. She was wearing earbuds, so I’m not sure if she could hear me, but I informed her that she was in third overall and that she had a good chance of catching the guy I was pushing to finish strong and not get caught! I always root for the underdog, and love to inspire someone to go for it.
I finished my 5 miles and went home and checked the results. Sure enough, the guy had enough left in the tank to hold off the hard charging top woman. I googled his name and saw that he was a rower at UW-Madison, so maybe not a runner, but an athlete who runs well for sure.
So as a reminder to myself, if I’m running well again this fall, I’m going to try to participate and not just crash the race.
I just can’t seem to break the injury cycle. I recover and then push myself too hard and then reaggravate the injury or discover a new one. I’m currently dealing with high hamstring tendinopathy, also known to runners as a pain in the butt. My hamstrings are too tight, I hate stretching, and I’m old, a perfect combination for this infliction. So I am back to laying off running and walking instead, and it’s been nice enough during this “fake” spring to get on the bike and ride outside every once in a while.
I have to admit that I miss riding a bike, that is until something reminds me how angry I can get at people on the trail for being idiots. This past week it was a guy who just had to be the guy to run on the wrong side of the trail, which means toward me on the side I am riding on. Everyone else on the trail followed the rules except this guy. I encountered him twice, and both times I had to adjust what I was doing because he was in the wrong position. It’s people like him who remind me why I use only a small portion of the trail to get to the safer roads to ride on. It’s funny that I feel safer riding on roads with traffic than I do riding on the trail. At least most people are following the rules on the roads.
The winds of “fake” spring have been blowing pretty hard lately, often influencing which type of non-running exercise I will do. Today I considered riding, but thought the winds would be too strong. My wife Kari suggested a walk instead, and we both agreed to head to the local tree-lined running path to have a buffer from the wind.
As we walked east I complained about the fact that I once again had overdressed for the day. Not a problem for someone dressed in layers, but it’s never comfortable having to deal with a bulky jacket wrapped around your waist. It wasn’t too long into the walk that I started thinking about all the miles I had put on this trail over a couple decades. I looked up ahead and could see the bridge that spans over Route 45, taking trail users to and from downtown Frankfort, Illinois. I have run and biked over it many times, but today my memory was jogged to a half marathon that I ran several years ago in which the bridge came at the end of the race, maybe about mile 12.5 or so. There’s a hill to the crest to get over the bridge, which pales in comparison to the many hills that this race route had before it, but it comes when you are spent and it is one last challenge before gliding into the race finish. I remembered that my race tactic was to pace hard to the hill, pull back a little heading up it, then hammer it downhill for the last half-mile.
Old Plank Road Trail bridge, Frankfort, IL
Kari and I continued east turning around about 3.75 miles from where we started and walked west into the wind back toward the car. As we passed a local park we both found ourselves examining the empty field and I asked her if she was remembering all the soccer games we sat watching our youngest child Becca play there.
Arriving back at the truck, I hit the stop button on my watch at 7.5 miles and thought about how the trip down this trail had not only given my legs a workout but my mind as well. And given that I had spent two special hours with my partner in life, I think I had just created a new memory to be reminded of the next time I wander east on the OPRT in Frankfort on a windy, almost spring day.
I ran and walked through a 10-mile run the other day in just under two hours. I looked at my watch and remarked that I used to be able to run 10 miles in 70 minutes. I haven’t done a lot of half-marathons, but all of them have been 1:40 or less. Both of those efforts seem like an impossibility now. And I don’t even want to race a 5K anymore for fear of my finish time showing how slow I have become. I have become older and slower and it bugs me.
It is probably no surprise to most people that aging will cause you to slow down, making once easy things seem difficult at times in your older years. Except for runners, runners think that they will continue to run in their 50+ years just like they did in their 20s. But eventually runner me has to at least acknowledge the red flags my aging body is waving emphatically in my face. I’m slowing down, I’m struggling with muscle soreness, I take forever to recover, injuries linger, and it seems like I redline my heart rate on the easiest of runs. I guess I expected to slow down as I aged, but I was expecting it to be more gradual, not a sudden fall off just because the age odometer hit the big 6-0.
It hasn’t been easy for me to admit that I’m not the runner I used to be, not that I was anything great but I always tried to push myself to my greatest potential and the younger me benchmark can no longer be met. Once you hit 35-40 years old, the sport labels you as a “masters” runner, which allows you to compete against older runners instead of just the younger athletes, but I was still doing quite well at that age. Masters shmasters. As I got into my 50s, I was on another level, competing well, beating 30-somethings in the local road races, accomplishing five Ironman finishes, qualifying for the Boston Marathon, and setting new personal bests. I set my marathon PR of 3:25 just before turning 53 years old. I’m not sure that I could hold that average marathon pace of 7:52 min/mile for even a 5K right now.
Doom and gloom are starting to set in. But I don’t want running to end for me. Some can let it go quite easily. They tire of their bodies hurting, other endeavors have replaced running, or just maybe the flame of interest has flickered and died out. It isn’t that easy for me. I’ve kept track of every run since 1989. Memories of all those training runs and races are very special to me. Running has been my thing for 35 years. I want to keep that going. It seems that I need to reinvent myself and set new expectations and goals. I can’t run in the past, I have to run in the now and look to the future because I refuse to let my running life die.
So how do I create a new runner me? Other than running just for the sake of running, there are really two things about running that one can pursue – running fast and running far. I think that the running fast portion is the one I will struggle with the most now. The past couple of years have shown that I’m slowing down, but I have set new distance personal bests and I enjoy seeking that distance potential. It’s pretty clear to me that going far outweighs going fast at this point. Here are some things I need to consider and change:
Stop focusing on what you can’t do, and focus on what you can. – It’s pretty obvious that I’m slowing down, and trying to run faster has only proven to make me sore and cause injuries. But since I started running ultra-distance events, slow running is the recipe for going far. Maybe running fast is in the rearview mirror, but I’m just now tapping into how far I can go. My max has been 76 miles, maybe I can exceed that. And since I have fallen in love with the Backyard Ultra/Last Runner Standing format, maybe seeing how many “yards” I can accomplish can be a new goal.
Embrace walking. – Walking saved my season last year when I struggled with my knee injury. I had already built walking into my running and was fine with using that pacing method training for ultras, but now I had an injury that made running hurt. Walking kept the mileage up, kept my other muscles working, and kept me moving forward without further damaging my knee. I was able to get back to running by the fall and participate in my final two ultras. The plan for this year will include a run/walk pacing plan for most longer runs, say 8 miles and above. I still get the work in, still get my heart rate going, and still get to be out there running.
Take care of the other things I have neglected. – I am not a limber man. I have gotten by in the past, but muscle tightness has a lot to do with why I’m sore and prone to injury. I’ve got to include some stretching and massaging to keep me fresh.
Cross-train more. – I admit that I miss triathlon. It was really a great cross-training sport. While triathlon training you have to make time for swimming and cycling, which means taking time away from running. I found this to be a good thing when I trained for Ironman. My running was actually at its best when I was doing triathlons. I’m going to add more cycling and swimming back into the mix, and maybe toss in a few sprint races too.
Stop being so negative. – Things are going to happen, and when they do I need to adjust and not get so down on myself. Winter is a motivation killer for me. I dislike being cold, and indoor workouts suck the life out of me. But the weather will get better, and doing less actually means that I am inadvertently allowing myself to have a recovery portion of the season, which is sorely needed. My wife rolls her eyes when I claim to be an optimist, as she knows that I am pessimistic to no end, but maybe a little optimism is what I need.
Reinventing myself as a runner may just be what I need. And maybe just making some small and smart changes could be the key to keeping running in my life.
I’d love to hear how other older runners have dealt with age-related performance decline. Drop a note in the comments.
an amazing run 