Each year on our birthday (mine was April 12th), we probably find ourselves taking time to think about the year ahead as well as the one that just passed. The outlook changes as we age. Do we have our affairs in order? How much can we effectively manage in our day-to-day lives and what is most important at this stage of life? And for us senior runners, what are the prospects for a strong racing year as we experience limiting factors coming into play?
The Senior Distance Running Essentials (SDRE) was conceived in large part to help wrestle with this last question. We might find ourselves scrolling through past race results and pictures, maybe 20 years ago or even just five years past and recall how a particular race or group of races felt, most likely easier and faster than where we are today. Doing that periodically allows us to celebrate our achievements and renew the joy we felt running those races – it’s part of who we are today.
But we know the flip side of re-living these memories – it can remove us from our current circumstances, which may be putting a lid on performances. That said, we ideally still aim to do our best and each birthday presents a perfect opportunity to take stock of where we’re at and set goals for the coming year. This is individual – there is no place we can go for a canned training program. If we are truly experiments-of-one, as SDRE premises, it is up to each of us to develop a manageable training plan. And if we’re coming off a down year, that may include improved race times and thus a rise in age-grade percentages.
There will come a time when running, or at least running as we know it, will not be an option. We all have friends for whom this has happened and most I know have looked this straight in the eye and made necessary adjustments in ways I admire. For those of us still running, the unknown is how long that will continue. We clearly have a say in that. Why wait until we’re on the brink to moderate training and racing to accommodate our aging bodies? Pushing hard until something fails results in the choice being made for us. I don’t like that option.
So, it’s another year in the books and another on the way. That makes it an open book until this chapter closes. Happy Birthday whenever that happens for you in 2024!
As the calendar turned in January, I was eager to continue moving away from limitations presented by a torn proximal hamstring that had hampered me for 15 months. Part of the process was having a platelet rich platelet (PRP) treatment (see May 2, 2023 post). I had been advised full healing might take up to a year post-treatment, if I didn’t do something stupid to set it back. Bottom line, it had been a long time since I’d been able to truly put the hammer down. The “Us-It-Or-Lose-It” adage had been evident in my running and racing. Nevertheless, I entered 2024 with reason to be optimistic about the racing season with a largely-healed hamstring. The Grand Prix series had dropped the marathon in favor of a one-mile race and I aimed to do the 7-race series.
The first was the Super Sunday 4-Miler in February followed by the New Bedford Half Marathon five weeks later and then the tough, hilly Boston Tune-Up 15 K just 13 days after that. That meant by March 30, the longest races were in the books. Great if you winter in Florida or Arizona! Not so great for us home-bound New Englanders.
We all know that to race long you need to train long. As noted in my see February 19th post, Wisdom through Acceptance, early year plans went awry due to Covid and the flu. But I thought I had recovered from that, had run a decent 4-Mile race and was moving on to the two long races. But the paucity of long runs could not be denied. With just three weeks before the Half, I finally got in a 10-mile run and then 12 miles a week later, with total mileage of 27 both weeks. Hardly a buildup for a credible Half or hilly 15K.
And that proved out – these two races were total slogs. In the Half, I felt decent for two miles, going out at a cautious pace. Even up through mile 6, I was holding up pretty well. But during the last seven miles I had no answer as I saw a steady stream of runners pass me. At the 15K, by the second mile it felt like I was carrying weights on my shoulders, resulting in the toughest race I ever recall running.
During those races, I had plenty of time to think about what might be happening. Why was I feeling so washed out even though I was going slower than I had ever run for those distances? Could it be lingering effects of the Covid I had contracted in January, i.e., Long Covid. I had frankly poo-pooed this phenomenon and had not experienced it after my prior, more severe bout in 2022.
Having run and raced for 47 years, I’ve had my share of injury-induced pauses in training. But I’ve always bounced back pretty quickly, finding the zeal to push the pedal down and hold pace. It’s why I enjoy racing! But in these recent races, something was different.
I went to a pretty reliable source — ChatGPT, which I have found to be an amazing resource constructed to draw from credible sources posted on the web. Chat GPT 3.5, the free version, includes info posted through January 2022. Chat GPT 4.0, a paid subscription, is current. The chatbot’s take on my question of: “How Long Covid affects endurance running” was as follows: “….common symptoms of Long Covid include fatigue, shortness of breath, and muscle weakness…fatigue and muscle weakness can affect an individual’s ability to maintain pace and recover properly after runs, leading to decreased performance and increased risk of injury…shortness of breath can limit the ability to take in enough oxygen during runs, causing fatigue to set in more quickly.” The chatbot then suggests “reducing training volume and intensity, incorporating more rest days, and focusing on low-impact cross-training activities to maintain fitness while allowing the body to recover.” It then adds “the effects of Long Covid on endurance distance running can vary widely depending on the individual and the severity of their symptoms. It’s important for runners to listen to their bodies and prioritize recovery.”
This response from ChatGPT provides much to ponder. It certainly reflected my experience of feeling muscle weakness and fatigue in those long races, especially on the hills! Could it be this is just the effects of aging and the time away from training at an intense level for longer distances? Maybe? And maybe it’s a combination. There is no clear way to sort this out. Long Covid does not result in positive tests. And aging, as noted, is highly individual.
So, it’s back to taking it one step at a time. And controlling the things I can control: quality workouts while building up slowly; getting enough rest; eating well; not over-racing. And keeping a positive attitude that at least I can run unhindered by hamstring woes. That is a blessing!
Mid-March always holds promise for warmer and longer days. In Vermont, temps still drop below freezing many nights, so snow and ice can be in the offing. Nevertheless, roads and trails are opening up and there is increasing predictability for outdoor runs. Treadmills have their place, as does the indoor track. But these are substitutes for the “real thing.” And for us senior runners, slipping and sliding and breaking something from a fall is something we ardently avoid.
This is also the time we plan or refine our racing schedule and start building up the long runs (my March 4th post is on this topic.) There is nothing like being ready to race and mix it up with those we’ve been competing with and against for many years. For us Vermonters, most of those races require travel. So, it’s an excursion that requires some planning. I find it exciting, and I doubt I’m an exception, to picture lining up at a favorite race and taking off as the horn sounds. It’s rather amazing that we can clearly recollect the various stages of races, not only in the prior year but also years past. This happens by being totally present. Some may find disassociating themselves from the required effort works for them. For me, I’m immersed from start to finish. Some of those moments I remember are enjoyable, some not. But I’m doing something I love!
So, here we are in mid-March. There’s a month or so of uncertain weather. Maple sugarers hope for a few more sub-freezing nights and skiers yearn for a couple spring storms. But we are on the cusp of being able to rise, put on increasingly fewer layers, and head out to put in some miles. The number of others doing the same thing grows and from a practical standpoint port-o-lets begin sprouting up in the parks and on construction sites. We can relish the thought that we have made it through winter and can look forward to the next eight months of being outside unimpeded. This is exhilarating! Not only for us runners, but cyclists and hikers too. Few whose exercise takes them primarily into the gym year around truly know that feeling.
I live in New England in large part because of the change of seasons. Life is an evolving cycle and the natural world here reflects that. Some Vermonters escape the winter by going to Florida or Arizona. I too, enjoy a break from the extreme cold. But two to three weeks away seems to satisfy that need.
I’m looking forward to these upcoming months! What will they bring? Only time will tell. That is part of the mystery and I’m grateful to be participating!
From the time I started distance running there have been two consistent training tenets: speed workouts and the long run. Everything else falls in between. We know speed work (whether that’s on the track or elsewhere) is important for maintaining our fast twitch muscle fibers as well as building muscle and cardio strength and resiliency. The long run is another kind of running. Why do we need it and how does age change things?
Long runs help build and maintain our body’s ability to absorb and use oxygen and glucose. There is simply no way to will ourselves to keeping a strong pace when we run short of either. Oxygen travels in the blood via the lungs and then into our muscle fibers through capillaries. Glucose is the metabolic product of various syntheses that extract nutrients from the food we eat and drink. Long runs build both capacities. As with all functions of the body, it’s quite amazing how this works!
If we’re going to run any distance over 800 meters, long runs are vital. While there are stories of top milers running 100-mile weeks, let’s look at the type of running most of us senior distance runners are doing. Assuming we aim to race various distances up to a half marathon, we’re likely logging 25 to 35 miles per week over four to five days. For me, a “typical” week would be one speed workout of 5 to 7 miles; two to three easier runs of 4 to 7 miles including some hills; and one longer run somewhere between 8 and 12 miles.
When I was younger, I ran these long runs at a pretty good clip – maybe just 45 seconds per mile slower than race pace. I felt if you’re going to race longer races, some good hard, long miles were needed in the tank. I think that worked pretty well into my 50s, but now I find two things if I push the long runs: one, I am really tired – I can’t plan to do too much the rest of the day; two, I find I have to focus on keeping pace and don’t really enjoy the runs – it’s something of a mini-race, feeling I have to prove to myself I can do it.
This is nonsense!
I’ve always looked forward to half marathons. They are long enough to test endurance and short enough to keep a strong tempo. There was a time when I consistently ran them under a 6:00 minute pace. And even into my early 60s, I was still able to go sub 6:30. Now, in my 70s, my top-end is likely just under 8:00. But the goal hasn’t changed: enjoy both the training for and the racing at this distance. That means putting in the long runs.
Ideally, building up to a half marathon, my training includes a long run of at least 13 miles every two or three weeks. This is the time it takes most seniors to fully recover from such an effort. While some may argue longer, I’ve always found training runs over 15 miles add more stress to the body than the benefit gained. If the calendar and health allows, leading up to a half I like to do weekly long runs of 8-9, 10-12, and 13-15 miles and then repeat that sequence.
Currently, I found myself a month out from the New Bedford Half Marathon quite unprepared. It was necessary to fast-track the training. I ran 8 miles two weeks ago, my first 10-mile run since early January last week, and then 12 today, at an intentionally slow pace. Next weekend I’ll do a long run of just 8 miles, at a faster pace. A short buildup and taper. I won’t be in top form but should still be able to contribute to the team. It’s early in the racing season – no point in blowing a gasket!
Our individual capacities respond differently to training stress. As this website emphasizes, we are on a journey of one in that regard. There is ongoing trial and error, ideally the trial leading to a strong race while error may result in injury or deep tiredness, which is often a precursor to injury. Long runs give us confidence we can go the distance. Physically, they prepare the body for a sustained effort and a respectable time.
As we age, we ideally gain wisdom. The Oxford dictionary suggests wisdom is the “soundness of an action or decision with regard to the application of experience, knowledge, and good judgment.”
Wouldn’t we like to think our older selves have learned from experience what has worked, what hasn’t, and be able to discern the why for each, leading to choices with reasonably good outcomes?
In any event, I’m feeling tested in the first part of 2024 as it relates to my training. All started out well enough and then two weeks in I had my second bout with Covid. The first was in April, 2022, likely from which I had total sudden hearing loss. I now have hearing aids that shift sound intended for my deaf left ear over to my right ear. At that time, I likely came back to intense training too quickly and while the specialists will not confirm this, the fact that I lost my hearing 20 minutes after completing a track workout suggests a link between the virus and my inner ear.
This time I was determined to be more cautious – no way was I going to have total hearing loss! Yet, we runners always try to push the envelope. And this bout was much more mild than the first. Very little coughing, no fever, mostly just head congestion and sneezing. Without meds, symptoms mostly cleared in about four days and after a couple days of walking, I did some short runs and within 10 days was back to easy training. Then I had elective surgery for a lipoma on my neck. To allow for healing and minimize scarring my surgeon said to take it easy for a week. Once again, that led to easy workouts. On top of this, I’ve been serving as finance director for a local mayoral campaign, not something I’ve done before, and the flurry of activity has cut into restful sleep.
But the racing season was about to begin. The Super Sunday 4 Miler on February 11th, was the first Grand Prix race. My 70s team was just three deep so we were all needed. I throttled my expectations, got a couple up-tempo workouts in with a long run of seven miles. I drove down to New Hampshire with two others the morning of the race, ran respectably, contributing to a team win. All good.
But that afternoon after getting home and preparing to watch the Super Bowl, the wheels simply fell off. Around 5 p.m., I started feeling nauseous, went up to lay down but shortly was making multiple trips to the bathroom for high velocity vomits. Aching all over, I can’t recall when last feeling so sick. Had no interest in the Super Bowl – didn’t know until morning how it came out. While I first thought it was food poisoning, it was almost certainly the flu, since my partner Liz caught it a day later, no doubt from me. And to top that off, we were scheduled to fly to Austin in two days to visit Liz’s daughter. This was touch and go. While I was now able to stomach food Liz was not and was possibly contagious. What to do? With all arrangements made and hard to change we decided to go. It’s gone as well as expected. We’re both operating at ~80% but seem to be making progress. I’ve run 5 miles the past three days and hopefully tomorrow before leaving will run 9 miles in 60-degree weather, something we will not see in Vermont for a while!
Looking out, the New Bedford Half Marathon is four weeks away and I hope to do long runs of 9, 10, and 12 leading up to that, with enough time for recovery. Not as much training as hoped and the prudent thing is to adjust expectations and use that race and the 15K 13 days later to build toward a strong base for later races. The goal is to be in pretty good shape by mid-May, the one year anniversary of my PRP injection and the road back from a torn hamstring tendon.
We’ve all heard the rather tired adage: “Life happens when we’re busy making plans.” But it does pretty well describe what most of us face at various times during a year on top of the Big Granddaddy of them all – aging. Ultimately, it comes down to accepting what is on our plate and finding constructive ways to address that. The best outcome is we learn something from the experience and come through stronger. Maybe applying some of that valuable wisdom we’ve presumably acquired along the way!
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.
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?
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!
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!
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.
