Changing Seasons
October has arrived and in Vermont that means leaf peeping. We see plates from many states on the backroads, going slow, and then slowing down! It’s a short window, maybe just two to three weeks depending on where you are in the state.
October also means a change in running conditions. It’s 7 a.m. before getting light and we are unlikely to see temperatures above 50 in the morning. Today the thermometer read 39 when I got up. There will still be some afternoons in the 60s and maybe a couple low 70s. But we’re six months away from anything approaching predictable warmth and then only on selected days until we get into May and then June. While I try not to think about this, skiers look forward to it. They may be only six weeks away from snow in the higher elevations and two months from local accumulations. I am not a skier, and this change is frankly not welcomed.
Some around here are packing for Florida or Arizona and by month’s end will be in a warmer clime. I suppose they beckon to the call described in Joni’s Mitchell’s song Urge for Going. Our Southern sojourn to St. Augustine is limited to five weeks in February and March when we’ll see friends we’ve met there in the running community. Hopefully, I can put in some solid running and a couple races.
So, I’ve got four months to find ways to keep training here. Yes, there are options. The UVM indoor track has just been renovated with a Mondo surface (in Vermont green no less) and the plows do a decent job of clearing the roads. And my Ice Bugs allow for running when ice might be lurking beneath the snowy cover. As I headed out for a 12-mile run this morning with a stretch hat and gloves (but still no tights) I was glad to be running among the bright-colored leaves, a clear sign of the changing seasons. It was my last long run before two half marathons, now two and five weeks away.
I try to be sanguine about this seasonal change as well as other changes on a personal level I am noticing related to aging. My benchmark for racing is currently an 82% age grading. I consider that a high-regional-to-national level of achievement. Since turning 70, I’ve hovered between 80 and 82 percent in age grading when healthy. Into my mid-60s, I had a string of races in the mid-80s, but some injuries and then Covid resulted in lost fitness I never fully regained.
Now healthy and able to train over the past eight months, I’m looking toward next year and beyond. The age-grade tables say achieving any particular AG% will result in increasingly slower times. In the 10K, for instance, 82% at age 78 is 48:59; at 79 a minute slower at 49:59, and then at 80, 51:06, an 8:14 pace. Looking way down the road to 90, the tables suggest a 1:10:49, or an 11:24 pace, and a 3:04 minute drop from just age 89, which follows a 2:43 drop from age 88. Am I really going to slow down this much? And if so, how will I keep my motivation to train?
These are not things I have to determine now. But the Universe willing, 2038 will come and I’ll be there to find out. What I do know is my running down the line depends directly on what I do this year, next year, and so on. Like all aging runners, I am on a use-it-or-lose-it track and if lost, gaining fitness and speed back is not only harder, but may simply be impossible to do. There is no better time than the present to ensure my training stays in the “sweet spot,” in that range that allows me to continue to train and compete for years to come. To function otherwise suggests I have not learned to pay attention to the things that eventually turn into injuries. This probably means 1,500 of yearly mileage (an average of 29 miles a week and a 6.4 mile average per run on four or five runs) is an upper limit. Unless something crops up – then a recalibration is needed!
My recently published book, Staying With It, suggests, no it demands, that I closely monitor not only the changes in the annual seasons, but also my own seasoning. In that book, I make the case for lifelong running. This argues against some arbitrary cutoff, be that 80, 85, or even 90 when we should expect to be on the sidelines, cheering, coaching, or helping at races. These things are certainly good to do on a regular basis, adding our experience and enthusiasm to the sport, but I do not believe that means hanging it up.
So, we head into winter in Vermont. That calls for various adjustments. But it doesn’t change a fundamental rule I’ve followed for many years: Do Something Every Day. As I quote Paavo Nurmi in my book: “You must move or you are bound for the grave.” He did this for 76 years. It is ours to exceed that.