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Gordon MacFarland

About Gordon MacFarland

https://theseniorrunner.com

Posts by Gordon MacFarland:

Going the Distance

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I’ve been going through my array of books, many running-related.  It’s part of a culling process inspired by reading Leidy Klotz’s Less (see January 5th blog post).

This takes time.  I leaf through each book, usually reading a few pages and then deciding whether to toss the book, put it in a pile to take to the library in hopes someone else would benefit from it, or putting it back on the shelf for safe keeping.  This has become a trip down memory lane as most books were acquired for a reason and I am able to roughly place the time in my life when I bought them.

One of these books was George Sheehan’s Going the Distance.  Sheehan was writing books and producing columns for Runners World when I started road racing in the late 1970s.  A cardiologist turned writer/runner at age 45, Sheehan had an outsized influence in popularizing distance running for the masses.  He was continually on the go, speaking at many pre-race events all over the world.  His seminal book, Running and Being, published in 1978, sits on the shelves of many runners. In that book, Sheehan suggests the athlete in us must engage in sport and not be a spectator, the latter leading to a degrading of our mental, physical, and spiritual selves.  

In November 1988 as we were finalizing plans for the first Vermont City Marathon on Memorial Day weekend 1989, Sheehan had a speaking engagement at Johnson State College.  Randy Sargent and I offered to pick him up at the airport, drive him to Johnson, attend the talk and then drive him back to his hotel in Burlington.  At the talk, George was in usual form – dressed in slacks and t-shirt answering a range of questions thrown at him mostly related to running, which he then broadened to emphasize that sport in our lives was essential, not optional.  

On the hour ride back, we did our best to have a conversation with George.  He was not up for idle talk.  He was tired.  This was two years after he was diagnosed with prostate cancer that had spread to his bones and thus was uncurable. Remarkably, he kept a busy travel schedule for four more years, finally succumbing to the cancer in 1983.  In any event, we enthusiastically told him about the upcoming VCM, to which he replied, “there are too many marathons.”  Being part of the core planning team, this was not something Randy and I were excited to hear.  And to top it off, he didn’t think much of our idea to include a 3-5 person marathon relay, which turned out to be a stroke of luck as the relay fueled growth of the event.  So, our time with George left us a bit blah.  But it was still good to meet him and see him in action.  

From the beginning, Sheehan had written about the philosophical side of running.  That set him apart from the exercise scientists and coaches, making his writings accessible to a broad range of people.  He felt distance running had saved him from professional and personal crises, eventually leading him to close his medical practice and find a way to make a living writing and speaking about running.  His timing was right – the running boom was taking off in the 70s and George helped lead the charge.  One thing that connected him to the everyday runner was that’s what he was.  He typically only ran about 30 miles a week, racing most weekends.  His marathon P.R. was 3:01.  Runners could relate to a guy who had to work as hard as them and was constantly putting in on the line at races.  He regularly used an analogy that you die during a race only to be reborn after it was over!  George Sheehan looked at his life as an experiment-of-one, and suggested that was true for all of us.   

Going the Distance was released in 1985 and I think I bought it shortly thereafter.  It was written mostly in the last couple years of his life when travel became more difficult. I probably read it once and then set it aside. Getting old and dying from cancer was far from my mind then.  But as I opened the book, I decided it was high time to re-read it with fresh (or less fresh!) eyes.  I too am now seventy-something and have had my own bout with prostate cancer, though it was discovered early and I have now been cancer-free for 11 years.

In the book, Sheehan covers some tough stuff, telling it like it was but also able to separate himself from the suffering he endured. The slow decline gave him time to reexamine his life and get closer to his wife and 12 children.  He pushed the limits, racing up until the year before his death by which time the muscles in his legs had pretty much wasted away.  He recalls finishing last in a 243-person local race and feeling exhilarated.  Throughout, he never stopped writing, sharing his day-to-day experience as it unfolded.  As running became untenable and walking up the stairs one step at a time “felt like cresting Mount Washington” he wrote about his decline in a humorous, self-deprecating way.  

As I look at the bookshelf, perhaps 40% of the books relate to running or fitness.  They reinforce my own passion for sport and my commitment to finding space most days to do something physical.  Some books encourage that and Going the Distance is certainly one of them.

Pacing

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There are various definitions of pacing.  Kevin Thompson in Pacing says it is the “distribution of energy during exercise.”  Another view is that it is the action of leading a pack.  Outside of competitive running, it is often seen as doing something slow and steady to avoid overexertion.  When racing, I have found pacing describes the “sweet spot” where at the end of the race I am truly spent knowing I have left most of what I had in me that day on the course.  It may correlate with time, but I’m sure we all find that our rate of perceived effort, or RPE, is affected as much by the conditions of the day, the terrain of the course, how much sleep we’ve been getting, etc., in addition to the clicks of the clock. 

Race strategy comes into play too, and a fair bit of study has been done examining the most effective way to race.  Some of this is by convention.  For example, Olympic and national-level 5,000 and 10,000 meter races on the track tend to start slower, progress to negative splits as the race unfolds, with the last 400 to 800 meters usually at a near sprint.  Place is the goal in these races more than time, resulting in the top finishers often just fractions of a second apart.

Most of us will never be in that type of race.  Yet, in regional races we generally keep an eye on our competition and do our best to stay close, perhaps aiming to brush by them down the stretch.  Sometimes this allows us to forget how we’re feeling.  (It is certainly easier to push ourselves in a race or group intervals than when pounding out repeats solo on a track!)  In any event, after each race we have an opportunity to take stock of what happened.  Did we empty the tank or leave something to spare?  Did we enjoy the ride or did we drag from mid-race, barely holding on?  What were our splits and what affected them – hills, wind, etc.?   

There are various theories about pacing.  Tim Noakes suggests the brain acts as the Central Governor, coordinating all the aspects of maximal output, such that we are literally saved from pushing ourselves through death’s door.  While Noakes’ version of pacing is at one extreme, there is definitely a bodily “intelligence” overseeing our peak effort.  The fact that very few people die when they are racing is evidence that “something” is at play to reign us in.

While the debate goes on about optimal pacing and the constraints governing that, there is comparatively little research on how age affects pacing.  For sure, we slow down as a result of a decline in many known parameters, as summarized nicely by ChatGPT:  VO2max, muscle strength, running economy, joint mobility, metabolic efficiency, and the rate of which motor units can be recruited and the subsequent rate of firing. This is not a welcomed reminder, but this stuff is happening!  

So, that suggests to me two things:  One, some of these changes can be mitigated and we best do what we can to minimize the natural decline; two, as “experiments of one,” various parameters will affect some of us more than others.  Meaning, this puts us on notice that we do need to be testing ourselves.  If, for example, in younger years we ran our best races with positive splits, maybe we need to consider negative splits, giving our bodies more time to respond to the demands placed on it.  Maybe we need to reconsider the type of races we do –  perhaps we should retire from marathons and focus on shorter distances that require less of our aging bodies?  Or maybe we employ a longer taper before a race so our reserves can top off.  There are no simple answers here.  We need to figure it out by trial and error. And this may change from year to year.

Whatever our age or length of a race, the overall goal of pacing remains the same: run a given distance in the shortest amount of time, taking all the variables into account.  Related, and as I age I find this is of increasing importance, I need to truly enjoy and look forward to the training.  My passion for racing stems from the willingness to put in the work.  It may be less work or a different type of training than 20 years ago, but if the “payoff” is to be ready for lining up at an important race raring to mix it up with fellow competitors, then it’s worth it.   

Optimism

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Maybe you find like I do when the calendar turns, it’s an opportunity to look at things anew.  For us runners, we know when the major races will be held — in New England that includes the USATF Grand Prix slate.  For the first time ever, I believe, the 7-race series does not include a marathon.  There is a marathon championship, but it’s a separate race.  That means those of us who have left marathons in the rear-view mirror have a chance to be an ‘Ironman,” completing the entire series.

I found 2023 particularly challenging.  A hamstring injury carrying over from 2022 dogged me as 2023 wore on.  An MRI in April showed a partially torn proximal hamstring tendon and running was just making it worse.  In mid-May I had a PRP (platelet-rich-plasma) injection, and was only cleared to start jogging in late June.  PRP is not a silver bullet.  It merely helps the healing process, which takes its sweet time.  And for us seniors, recovery can be longer by a factor of two or even three times depending on the injury.  My first races in August were hardly stellar.  I couldn’t get out of 2nd gear.  In the back of my mind (maybe even in the front of it!) was the thought that pushing too hard would set the hamstring back and I certainly didn’t want that! Nevertheless, it was good to be able to enter the races even if my competition dusted me.  There was incremental improvement through the fall, topping out on November 3rd with a 78% age grading effort for a 5K.  However, for the year total mileage was just 830, less than I had run in any of the prior 45 years of running.  I had proven you can’t expect to run hard, fast, or long on that kind of mileage.

So, 2024 beckons and with it something most runners share – optimism.  Afterall, why do all the training if there’s not a sense of potential payback. I’ve missed doing well in my age group and feel ready to step up to the challenge. My plan is to run 1,300 miles in 2024, pretty well spaced out over the year.  This would approximate my average for 2018-2022 but is a 57% increase over 2023.  I can’t realistically expect to run more than that. The Grand Prix schedule has a four-mile race in February and then a half marathon and 15K in March.  After that, everything is shorter, with the longest through fall a 10K.  If all goes well, maybe I run the BAA Half in November.

If I’ve learned anything over the past year, it is progress can’t be rushed.  Patience is the name of the game and anything else is a recipe for re-injury.  This suggests that as I build up to run the half and 15K I should focus on progressively increasing long runs more than speed, with a long run every 2-3 weeks.  I’m at 11 miles now, so the calendar allows for runs of 12, 13, and 14 miles before the half.   Granted, to run one’s best half marathon requires longer runs – maybe 15 to 17 miles.  But I don’t have time to build up to that this spring.  And while at one time the half was my most competitive distance, maybe that is now trending towards the 10K?

In any event, I am enthused about the year ahead.  Will it turn out as well as hoped?  Maybe, maybe not.  But that’s part of the lure of distance running – a curiosity to find out.  

Timeless

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I’ve run with Garmin GPS watches for 17 years.  The Forerunner 205 came out in 2006 and it was one of the first watches that was self-contained – no foot pod needed.  Everything was in the watch.  I ran with two of these (not sure why I had two since they both still work) for seven years and then I bought a 220 and then three years later a 235, which looked about the same as the 220 but was said to have better satellite connectivity.   Both were less gaudy than the 205s and could double as an attractive everyday wristwatch.

In any event, over these 17 years I’ve run about 3,500 days and 350 races and it was a rare day I didn’t use my watch to check pace and distance.  In fact, I remember the one race, a 10K, I ran without my Garmin.  I had left it at home and felt a bit lost.  With my Garmin I’ve felt “at home” in my running — somewhat in control of, or at least aware of, how I was doing.  This was especially important in races when I knew, mile-by-mile, if I was holding pace.  These watches served as something of a personal coach, who might have been yelling out my pace from the sidelines.

So, it was disconcerting when I was running the New Year’s Eve 5M fun run in Burlington and my 235 blanked out just before mile two. Now, I had had this happen regularly in the past several years with the 220, a result, I suspected, of a declining battery.  Even with full charge, the 220 would not last more than five miles in GPS mode.  And in the cold, much less.  The 235, on the other hand, would hold charge up through a half marathon, even in colder weather, though I usually wore it under my sleeve on colder days.  For this particular run, I wore it on top of the sleeve so I could monitor pace.  And it pooped out!

Yesterday I called Garmin customer service, hoping to find out how I might replace the batteries in both the 220 and 235.  They informed me batteries typically lasted between seven and 10 years and replacing them was not an option, that doing so would break the manufacturer’s seal and render it non-waterproof.  What they said was if I returned the watch to them, they would give me a 20% discount on a Forerunner 245, which would have cost $240 with the discount.  But I didn’t need a new watch – I just needed the 220 and 235 to hold charge in all weather conditions. “Sorry” was their reply.  I said I would send them both watches – would that give me a 40% discount?  “Sorry” was the reply to that. So, I searched the Internet, found a 245 for $200 that didn’t involve returning a watch.  Meanwhile, I’ll wear the 235 under my sleeve and expect it will hold up fine until the 245 arrives.

Something about this doesn’t seem right.  I will now have five Garmin watches, three of which can be used as an everyday watch and all in warm weather for shorter runs.  Couldn’t Garmin build their watches such that their technicians could open them up, install a new battery, and ensure a good seal?  Had I asked that, I expect “sorry” would have, once again, been their reply.

Every so often I charge up the 205s, I call them my retro watches, and use them for a run.  They work pretty well, though they look like a device employed to track someone under house arrest.  I’ll probably do the same with the 220 and 235.  Maybe by doing this I can extend the life of the 245 beyond 10 years.  And maybe by then, Garmin will design their watches so the batteries can be replaced.  Is that too much to ask?  

Less

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I recently listened to an interview with Leidy Klotz on The Morning Shakeout Podcast.  Klotz is a former professional soccer player who runs recreationally, but is now primarily a researcher with an engineering background, exploring how design affects our daily decisions. His research suggests we tend to focus on more rather than less in various domains resulting in cramming more into our days than can possibly be done. On the podcast he and host Mario Fraioli looked at ways applying less might benefit our running. The conversation inspired me to buy one more book, Klotz’s Subtract: The Untapped Science of Less. 

This comes at a time when I, and I expect many, are looking ahead to 2024 and thinking about the running season.  Spurred on by Subtract, I’m considering how less might improve my running experience and focus my time and effort.  Here are three things I came up with:

Limit the pairs of running shoes I own.  I counted 18 pairs, all in good condition.  This does not include five older pairs used for the gym and walking around.  I waste time making daily decisions about which of these to use!  I expect six pairs would do it: A regular trainer; a light trainer; another pair of the regular or light trainers that allows for transition as the first ones wear; two racing flats – one for 5Ks and 10Ks and track workouts and one for longer distances; and a winter shoe — I have IceBugs, which are great (and necessary!) for icy conditions.  Maybe I keep one older trainer for rainy days.  That would take it up to seven pairs.  Or 11 less than I have!  Fewer shoes to deal with should save me a bit of time.  And maybe someone else can put them to good use.

Fewer miles and days of running but at higher quality. Many runners are accustomed to running six or even seven days a week.  I’ve never averaged more than five. For 2024, I’m thinking four.  If I average 6.0 miles per run, that would be 1,250 miles for the year. Considering that injury resulted in only 825 miles this year, that’s a big increase – 48%.  Though I expect to log 1,370 “miles” of running equivalents (Stairmaster, water running, fast walking, cycling) as well.  I used to think an average of 7.0 miles per run was the sweet spot.  Maybe 10 years ago that worked but I believe less is now in order.  A long run of 10+ miles every two or three weeks is doable even with 25-mile weeks.  But any reduction in mileage can and should be offset by quality: two days of faster work comprised of striders, tempos, intervals, or hills, with the other two days pretty easy.  And limiting the runs to four a week should leave me fresher for all of them.

Fewer target races.  I love to race.  It keeps my training focused.  But I know the energy spent to get up for and then recover from an all-out race effort where top age-class runners show up.  We all want to put our best foot forward, literally.  For those of us in Vermont the options for racing are more limited, especially between November and March.  Many runners are on skis during that time.  I haven’t gone that route.  During the warmer months, there is a tendency to squeeze in as many races as possible.  For me, the important races include the six USATF-NE Grand Prix races from 5K to half marathon.  It’s where the best age-class competition shows up – people I have run with and against for many years.  Overall, I used to run 25 races a year — one every two weeks on average.  Covid and injuries more recently pared that down.  In 2024 I see doing 16 races with 8 to 10 at maximal effort, the others at strong tempo effort.  This seems a good balance.  

Plans tend to unfold as they will in spite of our best efforts.  Maybe in this case less will prove to be less.  But I’m going to give less a try in 2024 and see if it leads to more!

Senior Distance Running Essentials is Launched!

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It took over a year with various stops and starts, including a key decision this fall to plow ahead with published chapters rather than incurring the time and expense to put all the material on YouTube.  The 14 chapters of Senior Distance Running Essentials went live this past week!

Now that it’s done, I wonder why it was such a grinding decision to make.  As noted in Chapter #1, video episodes can be created at any time, either to accompany or replace the written chapters.  It will also be an opportunity to gauge interest in this material and who else might want to join the effort.  My intent has always been to involve others in the work and outreach of The Senior Runner.  Had I pressed on with me as the sole presenter, this might not have left space for others to be involved in future videos — maybe even being the presenter or co-presenter of a topic.  Who’s to say?

As I reflect back on this project and the process it involved, it brings up feelings of deep appreciation for what has allowed SDRE to be created.  Here is an excerpt from my 2023 holiday greeting that captures some of that:

“Senior Distance Running Essentials was launched on December 8th….It has been a collective effort, with various people serving as advisors and reviewers.  And while It draws on studies I undertook at UVM after moving back to Vermont in 2017, it really is a compilation of 46 years of competitive road racing, enriched by those I have run and raced with. That includes many of you!  I am most grateful for these friendships and look forward to more shared experiences down the road.”  

This pretty much sums it up.  Running for me has always been about the people as much as the times and places in races.  There will be a time when I cannot run, either temporarily or permanently.  But I trust the friendships will endure.  And that is worth celebrating.

I hope you have a good holiday season and that running is part of your 2024!

The Kids Are Alright!

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This past weekend I had something of a bookends experience.  

On Friday, I helped my friend and Cambridge Sports Union (CSU) teammate Jon Waldron with the Eastern Independent League (EIL) XC championships at Great Brook State Park in Carlisle MA.  Jon has coached for 17 years at Concord Academy and his school was hosting this year’s meet, meaning the heavy lifting fell to Jon and his coaching staff.  There were 275 high school kids from 11 schools running the 5K course, split between separate girls and boys races on a particularly gorgeous fall afternoon.  

The enthusiasm of the teams and support for each other was palpable.  Being a three-lap race, as runners came around the first two laps, families and the other team members yelled encouragement.  The boys race was wide open, with only nine points separating the top five teams.  Concord Academy won by just two points, 83 to 85!  Afterwards, the teams congregated in a large circle with awards given out as the sun went down and the temperature dropped.  But that didn’t deter the loud, spirited applause for and from all the teams. I couldn’t help but be inspired by the positive energy.  Yes, some runners were really fast, but all were pushing as hard and far as they were able.  The last boy’s finisher sprained his ankle during the race but mustered the resolve to hop in on one leg the last 200 meters.  I helped at the finish line, trying to ensure runners stayed in their order of finish.  I found myself thinking this is the type of experience that helps shape the hopes, grit, and values of teens.  With so many distractions and destructive behaviors’ that kids can engage in, right here was an example of something else.  And I was glad to be part of it!

On Saturday I ran in New England 65+’s Run for All Ages 5K, held in Wakefield MA.  By its name, it’s obvious this club, of which I am a member even though I race for CSU, caters to the older set.  The race has been held for many years and typically attracts over 200 runners.  The focus is on age-grading with the top cash awards going to those with the highest age grade percentage.  While there were some younger runners, a scan of the results suggested the median age was well north of 65.  Compared to the Friday race, this one showcased runners at the opposite end of the age spectrum.  

But one thing was the same – a super high level of enthusiasm – before, during, and after the race!  A few folks were walking, but those who were racing were putting the hammer down.  As we age, our times slow but the effort remains.  If anything, it’s tougher and the payback often harder to discern.  We might recall (I know I can!) the relaxed feeling of “floating” during races in our 40s in spite of being near top-end speed for up to a half marathon.  Yes, it was work, but that sense of being off the ground for 80%+ of the time was exhilarating.  It’s not like that now.  But I nevertheless found myself thinking during the race how fortunate I am to still be at it.       

The title of this post was inspired by the joy exhibited by those high school cross country runners. But the kid that remains in all of us is alright too!  In his just-released book, Master of Change, Brad Stulberg suggests a “rugged and flexible” outlook enables us to experience deep meaning “amidst the inherent impermanence of life.”  My takeaway is we are never too old to choose to enjoy and celebrate what is right at our fingertips.  For those of us still running, that includes lacing it up and not feeling cheated that we’re not as spry as we were 30 years ago.  Rather, we may see ourselves on a journey, willing to put it on the line and let things be what they are. 

On a Path

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I just purchased Brad Stulberg’s new book, Master of Change.   Stulberg was a guest on the most recent episode of The Morning Shakeout podcast, hosted by Mario Fraioli.  This was his fourth appearance on that podcast and all have been insightful and thought provoking.  Stulberg writes about stuff that relates to our everyday lives, applying his own learnings.

He ends the Introduction with a section entitled A Road Versus a Path.  Not a new concept or metaphor, but he presents it in a way that helped me better understand my process both with developing the Senior Distance Running Essentials series and recovering from a torn proximal hamstring injury.  Stulberg borrowed from Wendall Berry’s description of landscapes in “A Native Hill,” suggesting a “road” is a linear concept, a route that gets you from here to there in as short a time and least amount of effort as possible.  Building a road often reshapes the landscape to meet that objective.  A “path,” on the other hand, is in harmony with the landscape.  It twists and turns, often leaving us disoriented.  But if we stick with it, the path leads somewhere, and wherever that is, it is a place from which next steps can be made.  Stulberg feels we make a huge mistake thinking life is a linear road rather than a circuitous path, where we anticipate change rather than fight it. 

I mention this since a year ago, I reserved TheSeniorRunner.com URL and started drafting plans for the Senior Distance Running Essentials YouTube series.  It seemed pretty straightforward: repurpose things I had in RunStrategies.com, a site I had blogged on since 2015, and begin building a YouTube series on senior running. While the content of Run Strategies related largely to my experience as a senior runner, I felt TheSeniorRunner (TSR) would better describe what I was looking to do going forward and help those interested find the site. I created something of a roadmap – a basic to-do list. 

The first things were pretty easy: reserving the URL, reaching out to potential IT providers to help build the site, and creating an index of topics I saw fit an “A to Z” presentation of senior running.  I contacted potential collaborators and got the sense they felt this was a worthy venture.  Then I started writing scripts for 13 episodes, pulling from everything I knew and learned over the past 45 years of running, racing, and study.  

It took four months, 25-30 hours per week, to create the drafts.  As I developed these scripts, it became clear what I thought was a road was turning into a path.  The number of revisions mounted, as subsequent episodes made me realize the first ones included either too much or too little content.  I contracted with a videographer, shot both a 4-minute intro to the TSR site and an 8-minute Episode #1 and put them up. In a way, the project was launched.  But I knew it was not ready for prime time, meaning I was not comfortable marketing it to attract an audience.  I needed further input.

So, I reached out to nine senior runners who agreed to be reviewers of the drafts.  The path continued to wind as these focus groups met in July, one in-person and one by Zoom.  While feedback was generally favorable, I heard lots of concerns about how material was presented and it sent me back to the drawing board (computer!) with two more rounds of drafts that are now nearly completed.  At times, it has seemed the path morphed into a labyrinth!  In the next couple of weeks, I’ll meet with the videographer to map out a schedule for shooting the now 14 videos.  Of larger concern, is how to engage others in owning and promoting this series, as it never has been intended to be about me.  This is yet another side path that hopefully connects with the main one!

The second part of this post is about my recovery from a partially-torn proximal hamstring tendon.  I’ve blogged on this several times and am now five months post a platelet-rich-plasma (PRP) injection.  In the past two months, I’ve run five races from 5K to 10K.  For sure, there has been a progression but I’m still a ways off from being at the level I think I can and should be. Originally, I had planned to run a half marathon in November but have concluded that road was not to be followed.  Rather a path focusing on regaining speed and shorter races was the was best approach, leaving longer race distances alone until 2024. 

Stulberg suggests we can be stronger as a result of these side trips if we pay attention to what is right before us.  In my case, aiming toward increasing speed over distance has led to more enjoyable fast, downhill training runs as well as snappy track workouts.  I have now run three 10-mile runs but have not pushed it and am consistently running 23-25 mile weeks, generally on four runs a week.  It seems, for now, this is working.  So, I’ll stay on this path and see where it leads.

Perhaps I’ll see you on the path!

Brian O’Donovan

I met Brian O’Donovan shortly after moving to Boston in 2005.  I was a fan of Celtic music and knew him as the host of A Celtic Sojourn, the related holiday productions around Christmas and St. Patrick’s Day, and putting on concerts at The Burren in Somerville.  But I also knew Brian through running.  I saw him at a race wearing a Cambridge Sports Union singlet, my running club, which led to a conversation about his running.  Brian loved to run and race and told me several times he didn’t do enough of either.  And that he enjoyed being part of CSU, even if he didn’t race often.

Brian packed a lot into his 66 years.  It started with music in Ireland and London, morphed into  events management in Boston and then back to music.  When reading the account of his life in the news release from WGBH, it seemed it could have described the life of two people.  But it was all Brian.

Brian’s passing reminded me of the many interesting people I have met through running, not just in CSU but those in other clubs or just individual runners.  Many of these people have become trusted friends I really enjoy seeing when in Boston and otherwise try to stay in touch with.  It’s probably true of other sports too but I have found runners an eclectic group, hardly profiling a predictable stereotype.  My club, CSU, which I obviously know best, brings together the combined passions around running, orienteering, and XC skiing – thus a “union” – which adds to the diversity and probably makes it a unique club. 

Brian’s passing is also a reminder to cherish the presence of those around us.  It’s way too easy to find reasons to put distance between ourselves and others based on disagreements on any number of things.  That is simply a waste of time.  There is much to share with others if we just open ourselves to the opportunity.  Brian did that in spades in those 66 years. And his example reminds us that life is short and that we never know how long our time will be.  RIP Brian and thank you for all the great music and your friendship.

Turning the Screws

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I keep John Jerome’s The Elements of Effort by my bed and often pick it up if I’m not quite ready for sleep.  The book is a series of snippets organized by season. Since he lives in Western Massachusetts, many of the weather-related entries pertain to Vermont.  You may not have heard of John Jerome — he became the author/editor of Fixx’s annual training log after Fixx passed.  He’s a full-time writer and contributes to Outside Magazine and other publications.  His primary sport is swimming, but he’s done his share of running and road racing. 

The entry I read was entitled “Finishing.”  He describes what we feel as we go through a race, right up to the final sprint.  He suggests “spending time in a rapidly intensifying discomfort zone” is “fascinating!”  Not that he’s saying we actually relish being there.  Rather, being there is the “lure around which endurance sports are built.”  Try explaining this to the non-athlete and you’re likely to get blank stares or some kind of visual indication that they think you are off your rocker, at best.  But we know from experience that turning the screws further leads us to understand that the discomfort need not, and will not, stop us.  Jerome calls this a visit to Edge City, a place we tend to go by the end of every race.

I thought about this as I was running a 5K this past Sunday.  I have been recovering from a hamstring injury for nearly a year and only during the past three months have been able to do anything that resembled training.  In three races back, I had not made it to Edge City…rather I had backed off on the outskirts of town, maybe with the thought I didn’t want to reinjure the hamstring and start the healing process over again.  But I suspected it was something deeper — that I had softened and was not yet willing to feel that discomfort, the screws turning.  So, it was with some resolve I started the race near the front of the pack and committed to stay with it when the going got a bit tough.

For the first mile, I ran 30 seconds faster than my last 5K and for the first time in a year, I felt like I was truly running.  The second mile was 25 seconds faster as the gates of Edge City came into view. This was where it got interesting as the course turned onto a severely eroded cross country section where time was no longer the metric, rather effort.  In a way, that was a distraction from how I was beginning to feel – I didn’t want to twist an ankle or trip on a rut hidden beneath the sand and was paying close attention to where I was stepping.  After six-tenths of a mile of this we came into a clearing and ran toward the finish chute.  It was over!  

I don’t know that I had turned the screws all that much, but I do know I went well beyond a place I had been willing to go during the past couple of months.  There are still three or four races left in the season. And I am looking forward with some reasonable expectation that I will once again find my way into Edge City, a place Jerome suggests you don’t want to live but ‘it’s where you find out who is doing the finishing.”  

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