Running at Forty-Something
When I started thinking about writing this blog about a month ago, I had a few different goals in mind. For the blog and for my running. How did so much change in a month? I finished the Austin Marathon Half Marathon in 1:46:18 on Sunday, good for fourth in my age group and a mere forty-five seconds away from placing third. I also happened to come across the finish line ahead of 6,310 runners. Only 381 people - men and women from ALL age groups - finished before I did. Last night, when I finally let the results sink in, I realized something very important about myself (and thus the change in the blog and my running).
A month ago, I planned to write a blog about becoming a mid-pack runner and how not winning could be just as rewarding as getting a Coors beer can trophy or a lump of lacquered cow shit on a plaque. I was going to write a blog about alternate goals and the enjoyment of just being out there and able to run.
Then on three months of "training" (i.e. running long and doing one other shortish run a week), I busted out, in adverse conditions reminiscent of a South Alabama summer, a pretty impressive race. And I started wondering what I could do if I actually - I don't know - ran. Like daily or more than twice a week.
Ok, let's be realistic. The overall winner had nothing to worry about - I am almost forty-eight years old - but I was 45 SECONDS away from 3rd Place the Women's 45-49 Division. If I hadn't walked up that fucking miserable hill at Mile 11ish... If I'd trained harder... If I'd been just a teeny-tiny bit stronger... My time for the 3M a month ago, granted it was a very different race and the weather was a lot better, would have WON the division (It was only good for 14th in the division at the 3M).
Here's the rub - I honestly never thought I'd come close to age-group placing in a race again. I guess I should explain who I used to be as a runner. In my early twenties, I never didn't place. More often than not, I was the overall winner. That includes the Wichita Marathon that I ran in 1993. Before a stress fracture broke in my tibia at Mile 16, I was on a sub 2:55 pace (I finished in 3:07). If I could have held, I might have qualified for the Olympic Marathon Trials (2:50 was the maximum time accepted in 1994). I was also beyond full-blown anorexic and exercised, in addition to running nearly 100 miles/week, at least 90 minutes a day (The stress fracture wasn't exactly unexpected). The last race I ever won was the Fremont Baby Food Festival 10k in 1994. A few months later, at the age of twenty-five, I quit running. The anorexia and the pressure to train and perform had become too much. I hated it. All of it. I didn't plan to quit. One day I just didn't go and then I never went again for more than a decade.
Then a few years ago, I started running a little. I became the runner on a successful triathlon team and regularly ran my "shift" as a member of the Home Depot the Relay for Life team. Three years in a row, I ran a half marathon during my two hour stint on the track. So, when I started toying around with running the Austin Marathon Half Marathon this year - the first time I would race the half marathon distance since 1993 - it didn't require a lot of imagination. If I put my mind to it and did a little training, I could cover the distance.
Fast forward to October 2016. A friend signed me up for the race and I started training the first part of November. I figured I'd be able to do 9:00 miles and finish in less than two hours. Fast forward to December 2016. My mom gave me a Garmin VivoactiveHR for Christmas and I realized how fast I was really running - 8:15 miles. With the help of the Garmin, I only got faster.
By January, my long run was 12 miles and I decided to sign myself up for the 3M Half Marathon as a practice for the big one in February. The course was point-to-point and downhill. Plus I'd get a t-shirt and be able to do my weekly long run with 5,000+ other people. It turned out to be a great idea.
I set a few race day goals: Finish in under 1:50, even 5k, 10k, 15k, and 20k splits , and no "slog miles". [Finishing the race, as it had always been, was a given. Distance running is fucking painful. When the going gets shitty (and I promise you it will), if you've given yourself even the smallest sliver of an out, you're going to take it. Rule 1 - Finishing is never a goal. It's the point of the entry fee. Rule 2 - Never question Rule 1].
I accomplished everything I set out to do that day. I busted out a 1:42 and averaged under 8:00 for the entire 13.1 miles. Sure, it was downhill and we had a tail wind for a lot of it, but I came away thinking that I was ready for the Austin Marathon Half a few weeks later. I continued my training and set pretty much the same race goals.
The warmth and humidity on race day morning were brutal and something I was ill-prepared for. I threw out the idea even splits at after the 15k and at about Mile 12 when I realized 1:50 was easily in reach, I went into survival mode. Not finishing not being an option, I merely hoped I'd stay on my feet and that they'd stay moving. I crossed the finish line four minutes ahead of my goal, but it had been a shitty race and I felt I could have managed the conditions a bit better than I did. I wasn't deterred, though. I almost immediately decided that my next running goal would be a "fast" 10k before the heat of the spring hit.
Then I got the results last night and I realized that, "shitty race" aside, I did pretty damn good. Five weeks away from my forty-eighth birthday, I ran 13.1 miles faster than 94% of the people who entered the race. I've said many times that I used to be a good runner. I think I'm finding that I'm still pretty good. It's just something that I'm built to do, whether I like it or not.
So, what does running look like at forty-something? For one thing, I'm better at setting goals. Back in the day, I had one goal - WIN. Now, I'm smarter and saner. I have something called a "race plan" that also includes where I'm going to eat after the race (not bad for the former anorexic). I feel like I'm sitting on a really cool precipice. If I want, I can put some effort into running and see where it takes me. I can train and race and maybe get known in my age group.
All in moderation, of course. I think that's the absolute key for me when I think about running now. I have so much in my life - work, tennis, writing, graduate school, my dogs - that I can't possibly pour my entire heart, soul, and being into any one thing. Not running. Not writing. Not anything. I'm not willing to risk my sanity or my happiness. For what? A couple seconds off a PR? An extra book sold? Yeah, so not worth it.
Running at forty-something takes many forms. The first step, as with everything in life, is to actually take one. Then you just put one foot in front of the other and before you know it, you'll have done something you thought you'd never do. At an age when most are slowing down, you'll be speeding up.
Let me tell you. That is so worth it.
A month ago, I planned to write a blog about becoming a mid-pack runner and how not winning could be just as rewarding as getting a Coors beer can trophy or a lump of lacquered cow shit on a plaque. I was going to write a blog about alternate goals and the enjoyment of just being out there and able to run.
Then on three months of "training" (i.e. running long and doing one other shortish run a week), I busted out, in adverse conditions reminiscent of a South Alabama summer, a pretty impressive race. And I started wondering what I could do if I actually - I don't know - ran. Like daily or more than twice a week.
Ok, let's be realistic. The overall winner had nothing to worry about - I am almost forty-eight years old - but I was 45 SECONDS away from 3rd Place the Women's 45-49 Division. If I hadn't walked up that fucking miserable hill at Mile 11ish... If I'd trained harder... If I'd been just a teeny-tiny bit stronger... My time for the 3M a month ago, granted it was a very different race and the weather was a lot better, would have WON the division (It was only good for 14th in the division at the 3M).
Here's the rub - I honestly never thought I'd come close to age-group placing in a race again. I guess I should explain who I used to be as a runner. In my early twenties, I never didn't place. More often than not, I was the overall winner. That includes the Wichita Marathon that I ran in 1993. Before a stress fracture broke in my tibia at Mile 16, I was on a sub 2:55 pace (I finished in 3:07). If I could have held, I might have qualified for the Olympic Marathon Trials (2:50 was the maximum time accepted in 1994). I was also beyond full-blown anorexic and exercised, in addition to running nearly 100 miles/week, at least 90 minutes a day (The stress fracture wasn't exactly unexpected). The last race I ever won was the Fremont Baby Food Festival 10k in 1994. A few months later, at the age of twenty-five, I quit running. The anorexia and the pressure to train and perform had become too much. I hated it. All of it. I didn't plan to quit. One day I just didn't go and then I never went again for more than a decade.
Then a few years ago, I started running a little. I became the runner on a successful triathlon team and regularly ran my "shift" as a member of the Home Depot the Relay for Life team. Three years in a row, I ran a half marathon during my two hour stint on the track. So, when I started toying around with running the Austin Marathon Half Marathon this year - the first time I would race the half marathon distance since 1993 - it didn't require a lot of imagination. If I put my mind to it and did a little training, I could cover the distance.
Fast forward to October 2016. A friend signed me up for the race and I started training the first part of November. I figured I'd be able to do 9:00 miles and finish in less than two hours. Fast forward to December 2016. My mom gave me a Garmin VivoactiveHR for Christmas and I realized how fast I was really running - 8:15 miles. With the help of the Garmin, I only got faster.
By January, my long run was 12 miles and I decided to sign myself up for the 3M Half Marathon as a practice for the big one in February. The course was point-to-point and downhill. Plus I'd get a t-shirt and be able to do my weekly long run with 5,000+ other people. It turned out to be a great idea.
I set a few race day goals: Finish in under 1:50, even 5k, 10k, 15k, and 20k splits , and no "slog miles". [Finishing the race, as it had always been, was a given. Distance running is fucking painful. When the going gets shitty (and I promise you it will), if you've given yourself even the smallest sliver of an out, you're going to take it. Rule 1 - Finishing is never a goal. It's the point of the entry fee. Rule 2 - Never question Rule 1].
I accomplished everything I set out to do that day. I busted out a 1:42 and averaged under 8:00 for the entire 13.1 miles. Sure, it was downhill and we had a tail wind for a lot of it, but I came away thinking that I was ready for the Austin Marathon Half a few weeks later. I continued my training and set pretty much the same race goals.
The warmth and humidity on race day morning were brutal and something I was ill-prepared for. I threw out the idea even splits at after the 15k and at about Mile 12 when I realized 1:50 was easily in reach, I went into survival mode. Not finishing not being an option, I merely hoped I'd stay on my feet and that they'd stay moving. I crossed the finish line four minutes ahead of my goal, but it had been a shitty race and I felt I could have managed the conditions a bit better than I did. I wasn't deterred, though. I almost immediately decided that my next running goal would be a "fast" 10k before the heat of the spring hit.
Then I got the results last night and I realized that, "shitty race" aside, I did pretty damn good. Five weeks away from my forty-eighth birthday, I ran 13.1 miles faster than 94% of the people who entered the race. I've said many times that I used to be a good runner. I think I'm finding that I'm still pretty good. It's just something that I'm built to do, whether I like it or not.
So, what does running look like at forty-something? For one thing, I'm better at setting goals. Back in the day, I had one goal - WIN. Now, I'm smarter and saner. I have something called a "race plan" that also includes where I'm going to eat after the race (not bad for the former anorexic). I feel like I'm sitting on a really cool precipice. If I want, I can put some effort into running and see where it takes me. I can train and race and maybe get known in my age group.
All in moderation, of course. I think that's the absolute key for me when I think about running now. I have so much in my life - work, tennis, writing, graduate school, my dogs - that I can't possibly pour my entire heart, soul, and being into any one thing. Not running. Not writing. Not anything. I'm not willing to risk my sanity or my happiness. For what? A couple seconds off a PR? An extra book sold? Yeah, so not worth it.
Running at forty-something takes many forms. The first step, as with everything in life, is to actually take one. Then you just put one foot in front of the other and before you know it, you'll have done something you thought you'd never do. At an age when most are slowing down, you'll be speeding up.
Let me tell you. That is so worth it.
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