I won the Shaughnessy 8K in 2008 as a 48-year-old. It was my last good racing season.

When I read Dan Cumming’s post “Passion With Perspective” here on Running in the Zone, I  found myself nodding in agreement with many of Dan’s insights. At the same time, I was inwardly  comparing his experiences of being an aging runner with my own. I thought I’d like to explore the topic of aging from thepoint of view of an athlete who formerly competed at an international level.

As some of this blog’s readers might know, I had a successful career as a Canadian team member from 1978 to 1988, participating in the World Cross Country Championships seven times as well as competing in the Pan-Am Games, the World Student Games, the Commonwealth Games, the World Championships, and the Olympics. I raced the 3,000m early on in a couple of these meets, but my best distance, the one I raced in the 1988 Olympics, was the 10,000m.

Competing (#82) in the 10,000m event at the 1988 Olympic Games in Seoul (CP Photo/COA/F.S. Grant)

I was also fortunate enough to be able to make a good income from road racing, during those years in the 1980s before African women began to race at the same levels as their male counterparts.

[* Note: The Olympic running photo in this post was taken from the Library and Archives website of Canada at www.collectionscanada.gc.ca, used with permission. You can view other photos of me running at the Olympics at http://tiny.cc/nf64kw .]

Dan explains that the title, “Passion With Perspective” refers to his attempt to answer the question of “how we manage the inevitable”—that is, aging, and the resulting decline in running performance. I would say that for an elite athlete, being able to put this decline into perspective is harder in some ways but easier in others compared to what an “average-but-dedicated” runner experiences.

When an elite athlete is past his prime, he can make three different choices about how to continue running (or not):

1)     Continue pursuing high performance by training all-out and competing in both open and masters competition at the highest available levels. This was the choice I made (though not without ambivalence) until a severe injury stopped me four years ago.

2)     Retire from competition entirely. An athlete who makes this choice may stop running completely, or may continue running recreationally.

3)     Continue running and racing but in a relaxed way, without running being the focus of one’s lifestyle and energy.

Although I chose path #1, I understand the reasons for each choice; all are valid, and all have their pros and cons. It’s not so much the path taken as the attitude brought to each choice that is important. In addition, regardless of which choice they make regarding their own running, many elite athletes choose to give back to the sport they love by getting involving in coaching, administration, officiating, public speaking, writing, or some combination of these. Some athletes turn their running passion and expertise into their livelihood by creating a running-focused business.
Others volunteer their time, often very generously.

I can think of many former elite athletes of my generation (and there are many more) who have become successful running coaches:
Brit Townsend, Cindy O’Krane, Richard Lee, Steve Boyd, Kevin O’Connor, Jerry Ziak, Art Boileau, Lucy Smith, and Marilyn Arsenault.

Pros and cons of each choice

1)      Continuing the pursuit of high performance

Cons

The runner who chooses to continue chasing high performance is going to have to make the same sacrifices he or she made as a younger runner—that is, devoting a lot of time and energy to training and racing. And for what? To achieve times that, predictably, will get slower and slower. This kind of runner is unafraid of facing the reality of physical decline. As Dan notes in his post, this is where age-graded results become the new goals. No elite runner who trained correctly when they were young will set PBs in their 40s and 50s—that is not physical reality. No, the  goal becomes “I was a 93% runner when I was young, so I’ll try to better a 93% age-graded performance each year.”

Pros

Here I am leading the 45-49 age group of the women’s 1,500m at the USATF Masters Track & Field Championships in Spokane, 2008. This was my last track race. Photo: Warren McCulloch

I think the positive aspect of making this choice to continue striving for excellence is the willingness to give one’s all; to affirm that the fighting spirit is worth a lot. It’s also very inspiring to see that the human body is indeed capable of performing amazing physical feats well into its sixth, seventh, or eighth decade. These performances can encourage middle-aged and older people to become physically active.

Older elite athletes have to accept that not only will they get slower, but they will not get the attention and hero-worship they used to. Even at a Masters World Championship, no one is watching—no one cares—except the other masters competitors. And that isn’t surprising. Athletic performance is not just about finding the limits of what the human body can do, but also about appreciating the beauty, aesthetic harmony, and power of the human body at its best; that is, in youth.

I paced the 1,500m stupidly by surging too soon and too dramatically, and ended up in second place when I should have won. Oh, the pain! Photo: Warren McCulloch

Masters performance can only be about finding what the limits of a human body are at a given age. Some older runners are still beautiful to watch: most are not. Masters runners need to have a good sense of humour about this. Go to a masters championship meet and what do you see? Bald heads, cellulite, lumps in funny places, and lots of wrinkles. Butt wrinkles! Even women with lean, girlish bodies, who look like teenagers from a distance, can’t escape the ravages of wrinkles. And these are the fittest old bodies on the planet!

I remember going to a US Masters Championship in Eugene when I was a “young” master of 35 (I was a bit injured and only ran in the 8K cross-country race). I remember laughing and cringing as I watched the men’s 60+ steeplechasers on the track. They were so pitiful! Some of them crawled over the hurdles; others fell in the water jump and waded slowly out. Now that I’m disabled and getting closer to age 60 (without ever having done a steeplechase), I have a lot more admiration for those runners than I did back then.

More cons

Masters athletes who are focused on elite performance run the risk of making unwise choices about balance in their lives, of not putting their athletic achievements in proper perspective. Are relationships (with a spouse or children) being neglected because of a single-minded devotion to running? Are careers stagnating, or (as in my case) not being started? My own particular set of life circumstances was complicated, but I have some regrets about not trying to start a writing career earlier, and I might have been able to do that had I not been so focused on running.

Also, I think it’s sad if older athletes are too focused on themselves. We expect older people to share their wisdom by coaching and encouraging young people. We expect them to be willing to “take a backseat role” and accept that young athletes should have the spotlight.

More pros

There are compensations to competing in Masters World Championships, even though the spotlights are lacking. First of all, Masters Championships differ from Open Championships because anyone can take part, as long as they pay. There is a wonderful sense of camaraderie at these meets. I’ve found, generally, that masters athletes are tremendously supportive of each other. They have to be! In your regular life, everyone thinks you’re a crazy fanatic, but at a Masters meet, everyone is just like you!

Only other masters athletes can fully appreciate what a good performance is, and understand how age grading works. Only other competitors can understand the sacrifices and pain you accept, and the reasons you want to do this.

Dave Reed, Kim Ross, Nancy Tinari, and Warren McCulloch: Phoenix Running Club teammates at the USATF Masters Champs in 2008. Dave Reed ran the last race of his life here, to finish a very respectable 5th place in the 1,500m 50–54 division. Photo: Warren McCulloch

2)     Retiring from  racing (and possibly running) completely

Pros

Some elite athletes, when they are in their twenties or thirties, choose to retire completely from competition. Although I didn’t choose this route, I understand it completely. The rigours of hard training and the intense pressures of high-level competition can’t be sustained indefinitely, and they may force an athlete to delay or even miss other important aspects of life, such as attaining advanced degrees, getting married, having children, or advancing a career outside of running. I think it’s admirable and normal for people to decide to put the energy they once devoted to running into other pursuits.

Some elite athletes, after retiring, continue running casually for fitness, relaxation, or as a social activity.

Cons

A negative side to quitting running could happen if the former athlete decides to stop running and all other physical activities completely. Obviously, this could be bad for their health. Such athletes may have never enjoyed running that much and done it for purely practical reasons, such as a means of getting a university scholarship.

3)     Continuing to run and race, but at a recreational level

Pros

Quite a few elite athletes make this choice, which is probably the most “sensible” one. It allows the former elite runner to keep fit and maintain friendships and connections with the sport. Often, this is when the runner’s focus may shift from his own performance to helping others in the ways I mentioned above, such as coaching.

This choice is a healthy one both physically and psychologically. Decreasing the hours and intensity of training means the person has more energy to give to a job and/or family and friends. A runner who trains and races moderately is less likely to get injured.

Cons

Although easing off the intensity of running seems to be a “rational” choice, for many formerly elite runners (including myself), it is a difficult one to make. It means giving up income and travel opportunities that are possible if one races well as a master. It means giving up one’s “star” status and all the ego rewards that come with that. It may mean having to find a new career if running has been a full-time pursuit. It means redefining one’s sense of identity—what is my worth if I’m not a great runner?

In his “Passion with Perspective” post, Dan writes that if he asked serious runners the question, “Who would you be if you could not run?,” most would answer, “Someone who used to love running and now runs no more.”

Well, during the past four years I’ve been able to run little or not at all. And while it’s true that many runners would give the answer Dan suggests, I rebel against it. To me, it’s sad and defeatist if I can only define myself in terms of running. An elite runner who derives his entire identity and self-worth from his running performances is going to be psychologically in trouble, and maybe pathetic, if he is forced to stop running before he is ready.

For decades, I got much of my identity, and many rewards, from running. I wasn’t ready to stop when an ACL tear, followed by a fall and the resulting cartilage damage and advanced arthritis in my knee, forced me to stop.

But although it hasn’t been easy, I’ve started a new career as a writer and editor. And although I’m inevitably “typecast” as a runner, and my past as an elite runner has opened doors for me, I’ve known since I first learned to read that books and writing are a core part of my identity.

I’ve gone through many periods of depression and denial since the day I tore my ACL over four years ago. I had reconstruction surgery of the ACL done in January of 2010. However, I’d already fallen and damaged my cartilage, and further surgery to remove the cartilage a year later didn’t help. When I went for my post-surgery consultation, optimistic that my surgeon would tell me I’d be able to run more again, I received a nasty verdict. He told me I wouldn’t be able to run at all anymore, and the conversation turned to knee braces and ways to delay knee replacement.

Silver linings

However, both my body and mind have been able to adapt. In the past two years, I’ve discovered that I can run up to about 6K twice a week. Maybe this has been possible because I’m very light, or because I work consistently at strengthening my quads and other muscles around the knee, and do Pilates to keep my flexibility. I’m immensely grateful that I can run a little bit; it’s infinitely better than not being able to run at all.

But it took a huge change in mindset for me to accept that I’d never be able to run fast or far again. I miss my running friends and the hard workouts and races I used to share with them.

During the past two years, whenever I’ve tried to run further or more often, my knee has reacted badly and I’ve had to stop running for weeks. I’ve learned to accept these up-and-down cycles, and to curb my natural greediness to run more and my desire to improve.

The secret to be healthy psychologically is to always focus on what you have, rather than what you don’t have. I’ve discovered a host of “silver linings” inside my sometimes-depressing cloud of being able to run so little.

• Every run is a fun run, because I’m never overtired.
• I can choose to run when the weather is good.
• If my knee cooperates, I can run at the “sweet spot” pace—fast enough to breathe hard and feel I’m running, rather than jogging, but not fast enough to be in distress.
• I still work out every day, for about an hour on average. My training is varied and well-balanced: it includes running, cycling, swimming, weights and cardio machine workouts at the gym, and Pilates.
• None of my workouts leaves me completely exhausted, as I used to be so often. Since my immune system isn’t stressed by extreme training, I virtually never get sick.

“The ultimate standard I have set for myself is that I must enjoy running.”

To me, this statement of Dan’s perfectly captures the healthiest attitude for an aging runner to take. It also captures the biggest silver lining for me about my demotion from elite runner status to that of a twice-a-week (if I’m lucky), pretty slow runner. I love and appreciate every minute of the 25- to 30-minute runs that are my norm.

In the past, there were many times I didn’t enjoy my running or my other workouts. Some people might not think about some of the sacrifices that elite athletes make. We all know they run fast, hard, and often. But for me, being an elite athlete also meant being totally exhausted four days out of seven, every week, all year long. It meant not being able to do nearly as much of the “enjoyable” kinds of running—such as doing
long trails runs—because they would have hindered rather than improved my speed. It meant doing anaerobic track workouts that I usually hated. It meant dealing with the disappointment and pain of frequent injuries. Because of these injuries, for most of my career I had to do long, boring workouts on exercise bikes to make up for the distance running my body couldn’t handle.

There were also the pressures of competition. I suffered frequently from insomnia, especially when I travelled, and often raced on little or no sleep. When you are at a big road race or an Olympics, you run whether you feel well or not—barring serious injury. I ran sick at the Olympics
and I remember racing the Lilac Bloomsday 12K race one year after spending most of the night in the bathroom with digestive problems. You just tough it out the best you can.

Of course, it was all worth it—and not just for the money—there are easier ways to make the kind of money that is possible for any runner but the top international superstars. Few experiences in life rival the elation and triumph of winning a race, or even racing well no matter what your finishing position. Nothing beats the endorphin boost and relaxation that follow a tough workout.

But now, like Dan, I will be thankful for whatever days, months, or years I am able to simply enjoy running.

Editor’s Note: I was thrilled when Nancy offered to augment my own thoughts on this topic. While I may be a good observer, there is nothing like the perspective of the person who has ‘been there and done that’.  Nancy modestly offers that she has taken up the writing that had to wait while she was too busy training and running. If you have enjoyed this piece, then you should make it a point to head on over to her own blog site: Nancy Runs & Writes, where you can find more of her insights and perspectives on life and running.

People who are good at anything generally have passion for it, whatever it may be. Sometimes people who aren’t all that ‘good’ still have tremendous passion for what they do. In my opinion, we runners rank right up there when it comes to passion for our ‘thing’.

So, what is this ‘Passion with Perspective’?

Not for one second am I going to suggest that you can excel without the passion that lets you dig down for what you need. Let? Maybe, MAKES you dig down for what you need.  Does anybody but me hate it when people tell you: “now just take it easy and don’t hurt yourself out there”? Right – that’s what I thought.

So that isn’t what I’m talking about when I say ‘perspective’. I suppose this could be written for any runner who has come to a sudden stop in his or her running career, including elites who suffer a catastrophic injury or health problem. However, I believe it more applies to athletes who are aging and slowing and all that stuff for which they made age grading systems to give comfort. (That would be me, of course.)

In this case, what I am talking about when I use the term ‘perspective’ is how we manage the inevitable. I am privileged to get up close to a lot of excellent athletes and observe their passions for the sport and see them live it. Many more are just people who take their running very seriously  (it could really be anything else, but this blog is about running and runners). Performance in absolute terms has little to do with it in the general sense, but I imagine that the better an individual is, the more acute the situation.

I have seen a fair number of individuals who seem to define themselves by their running and running performance. There are really two levels here: running as such and running well. The issue comes down to: who would you be if you could not run? For most, the answer is probably ‘someone who used to love running and now runs no more’. The same could be said for those who once ran well and can now only run recreationally or for general health benefits. I have seen some runners who have lost their passion or at least deny it, once they are no longer able to perform at peak levels. I have seen others who have turned that passion in a different direction, while still celebrating it and using it to drive something different such as coaching or promoting involvement in our sport.

I have faced this abrupt change once when my mediocre, but personally satisfying running was brought to a sudden halt by a ruptured disk in my back. I had not run while I was a young adult, only beginning (as is the case with many) as I hit 40. From that point, and for the next 3-4 years, my performances got steadily better. All my PB’s come from the 12-15 months just prior to my back problem. The trend was to better and better times, so had the back thing not happened, I’m not sure where my PB’s might have wound up, or for that matter, what I would be doing today in terms of running. But, it DID happen and I had to deal with it.

After I was repaired, I did run again but my times were never quite what they once were, and my body was no longer as it once was. The post surgery times actually weren’t all that bad or so much slower, but it was clear that I had seen my best running days, at least in absolute terms. In my best running days I got down to a sub-20 minute 5K and a marathon under 3:25 (no chips then so I have to estimate just a little) and all the relatively similar times for distances between. Maybe that was actually the best I was ever going to do anyway, but we will never know. It is what it is (or was).

That was the first time I had to put some perspective into my passion. I could have said I would never be as good as I was, so I might as well quit and feel sorry for myself. Instead, I accepted that loving running was bigger than running to any particular standard.  Frankly, the only real standard I have set for myself, was and is, running my best. More importantly, I guess the ultimate standard I have set for myself is that I must enjoy running. I can honestly say that I do love running for its own sake and as hard as a race experience may be I still love the competition part too.  I was never really good enough to make goals to beat anyone in particular or win races. The odd time there was a podium place, but that was never really what drove my passion. Loved it when it happened, but was always a bonus. I’m sure I’m hardly unique in that regard.

[As an aside, I should say that this article has taken some time to write as it is not particularly time-sensitive and I did want to be particularly thoughtful about it. I have let it stew a bit and had various thoughts along the way.

As I was out running yesterday, I was thinking about whether my running has EVER impressed anyone but me. I suddenly realized that it has, if not 'impressed' then definitely impacted quite a number of people. The interesting part is not that anyone has ever been that impressed with my blinding speed (cough, choke) but rather that the older I get and slower I go there are more and more impressed with the very fact that I do keep going as the weeks, months and years add up! It is gratifying to me that people openly show that recognition and pleasing to me that perhaps my exploits do encourage others.]

OK, back to the original story line. In my own case, other stuff got in the way of steady competition after I was healed and healthy, and while my first marathon was in 1988 and my second in 2000, there were other shorter distances that happened through summer of 1989 and picked up again in 1991-92 and then sputtered to life again in 1998, it was 12 years between my first and second marathon. Even without the back problem, twelve years is a LONG time between events you want to compare. Again, yay for age grading. Age, is the operative word. That is something that hits us all, Ed Whitlock notwithstanding, and when you get right down to it, Ed too. The question is really one of how we accept the inevitable, or experience ‘Passion with Perspective’.

I have known people who set some arbitrary time in their heads for a particular distance and consider running over that time to be failure. Failure of such import that it defines them, at least in their own minds. I had a small dose of that in a recent marathon in Eugene when I ran 4:55. I did achieve something that was part of a decision point, and that was going under 5 hours. However, once I got home and could play a rousing game of ‘fun with numbers’ it came out that using age grading for long-term comparison, that was my 7th best performance out of 17. When you take into account the calendar, that time was relatively better than some much quicker absolute times done at a more tender age.  Could I have gone faster? Well, in this instance, yes I think I could. I can easily explain away about 1.5 minutes from the finish time, and know that with better race management, maybe another 5-10 minutes could have been foregone. That said, it is a far cry from my 3:25 done in 1988.  Aaah, but you see, there is the point.  The 3:25 happened 25 years ago (almost to the day). So here is my second application of perspective to my passion for running. As I already said, this is one we will all face in relative terms.  Some may see themselves failed if they can’t do a 3:00, or 4:00 hour marathon (or 16 minute 5K).  Right now, 5 hours is kind of my magic number but then I realize I never achieved less than three hours and have no idea if I ever had the potential to go sub-three. I have documented proof that I could go sub-four, but even that is now a thing of the past. I feel just as passionate about running. I love it and I love competition. As long as I feel like it is a good thing for me, I will continue.  When I don’t feel competitive running is healthy, I hope I will still be able to just run for pleasure. Passion with perspective.

I am trying to set out some ideas without stooping to saying that we all just have to suck it up and face reality and stop whinging about what we can do now and letting that somehow define us.  I’m trying.  In truth there are some far worse things than not being able to run as fast as we once could.  Everyone has his/her own view. I wrote this because I have known a few who appear to me to be taking an ‘all or nothing’ approach. In my opinion that is an inevitable path to failure and serious personal difficulty.  Hopefully, in the end it all turns out in the “well, that was fun while it lasted, and I was pretty awesome even if I do say so myself” category.

My current ‘passion’ seems to have become trying out this whole ‘Marathon Maniac’ approach for the next while. Running a marathon and a 50K ultra in a period of 13 days certainly seems to qualify. I have another marathon scheduled for early June, but then life gets in the way for a bit, so may have to look at the Fall and plan a series of races that work on several levels. I’ll let you know how that works out. In the meantime, I hope this post has given readers something to ponder.

Running in the Zone: A Handbook for Seasoned Athletes is now available in e-Book format from Trafford Publishing.

New Ultra Marathon Runner

That is pretty easy. You just run something you’ve never run before!

So, I did.

Now, that isn’t quite as easy as I might have made it sound. I’ve been running for a long time and over the years have run almost every common distance from the mile to the marathon. I’ve even done some uncommon ones like 6K and 7K, a 19K and a couple of similar ones where the object of the exercise was to get from a particular Point A to an equally particular Point B, that just happened to be 19km or some similar but unusual distance apart. Among the fairly common distances I’ve run are the street mile, 5K, 5 mile aka 8K, 10K, 15K, 10 mile, 20K, Half Marathon and the Marathon. All of those were done for PB’s more than 20 years ago.

What’s a body to do? Well, I’d never run an Ultra! Until this past Saturday, that is.

I consulted on the matter with my amazing ultra-marathoning friend, Ellie Greenwood. Without going into the same story again, due to a back problem/operation some 23 years ago I have some residual nerve damage and when I get tired my left leg drags. That is not good on steep downhills with rocks and roots and stuff. So, I asked Ellie if she could recommend a relatively flat and uncluttered 50K Ultra. She could. She did. The Elk-Beaver Ultras on Vancouver Island, near Victoria, BC. There are some up-slopes and down-slopes but not a single hill and hardly a root or rock to speak of. Thanks Ellie!

Naturally, the 42.2km marathon being the longest distance I’ve run, racing or training, I was going for the first distance accepted as an ultra-marathon – 50K. Someone described it as a ‘gate-way’ ultra. Not sure I like the sound of that.

Anyway, THAT is how you score a PB at my rapidly increasing age. I’m not even going to tell you the time because it was slow and doesn’t actually matter. It was not embarrassing though and unlike a couple of recent trail runs I was not last. I finished ahead of two other finishers and three DNF’s, making me 21/26.  For me the whole point was the doing of it. The official race report can be found in this link and if you really insist on seeing results, they are at the bottom of the event page.

Just to make it a wee bit more interesting and in keeping with my recent ascendency to Marathon Maniac status, I ran the Elk-Beaver 50K just 13 days after the Eugene Marathon, which would be a major new ‘first’ for me (two long events so close together). For those who don’t know the Marathon Maniac qualifying standards, I had actually achieved the bottom rung, one star or bronze level, back in 2008 by running three full marathons in less than 90 days (85 to be precise). That said, there is another way to meet the base qualifier and that  is to run two marathons (or ultras) in 16 days. I did the original three more or less by accident, just running races I wanted to do and only found out later that those three gave me the qualification I need to join up with the Maniacs. Not that there is any need for it, but this time I was very aware that I would be doing the first level standard again. Although it all remains to be seen, I wanted to try out the technique (intentionally this time) of keeping the races close enough to use the last marathon as the ‘long run’ in training for the next one. So far, so good. I do have another race in mind which is four weeks away. I won’t sign up until I know I’m fully recovered from the 50K, but just a couple of days after Elk-Beaver, I am feeling good.

Now, about the actual first time ultra! I have to admit that having run a marathon as hard as I could go, just two weeks earlier, my goal at Elk-Beaver was just to finish and enjoy it.  The last statement, of course, proves without any doubt that I am a Maniac or at least a little crazy. I wasn’t sure about the format of running 10K loops around the two lakes, but at least up to the point of doing 5 laps, I found it comforting. I’m not sure how doing it 10 times (like the 100K folk) would feel – and I never will. Never having run that trail, the first lap was all new. Happily, I found Ellie was right on with her description. I trust Ellie, but knowing the sorts of races she does both in terms of distance and terrain, I had to see for myself what she thinks ‘flat and easy’ actually means. After finishing the first circuit, the running was fairly steady. By the last lap, I was thrilled I was on a loop course, because I knew at every step just where I was and what was coming. With about a mile to go, I think I felt a bit euphoric even. OK, well maybe I was just getting dizzy.

The 50K had the great advantage that it is really only a bit longer than a marathon. As my gps device confirmed that I was passing the marathon distance shortly after starting lap 5, I had the reassuring feeling that I was less than 8K from home – 5 miles. I won’t tell you it was a lark, or pretty. I had lots of issues, including nagging allergy symptoms which actually made lap four the worst of all of them. I was not running fast by any stretch of the imagination, but I was still going and there were lots of people being supportive, both fellow competitors and local runners/walkers/joggers and equestrians. (Oh yes, I did ask a couple of the latter if I could borrow the horsey for just bit. None were ready to accommodate and now I’m glad.)

At one point I was running with a fellow competitor from Alberta. He was a great guy and fun to talk to, but was insisting on running 10 and 1′s. I have nothing against that method, but I just don’t do it. Well, I did this time – once and a bit. That was about all I could manage. When we got into the second cycle I was not feeling like I was running my own race, so I bade him go ahead and took my own walk break. When I am running long distances and find myself needing to walk, right or wrong, I tend to take shorter breaks and try to do them when there is a hill or challenging section where I will expend even greater energy if I try to run, and where walking likely isn’t going to slow me down all that much anyway. It turned out to be a good idea because we did a couple of backs and forths over lap four and then in lap five, I passed him for good and actually finished some 12 minutes ahead. I doubt he walked more than I did, but I was able to better manage my energy, running faster when I did run. With a set 10/1 schedule you can sometimes wind up walking down a nice easy hill and then running on the up-slope. Elk-Beaver has no hills but it does have lots of slopes.

While we were still running together, a local runner/jogger fell in with us. He was a fairly big fellow running for fitness and wasn’t with us for a long time. Seeing our bibs he asked what we were doing and we told him, also about the other 50 mile and 100K events that were going on simultaneously. He looked at us for a bit, kind of sideways, and said something like: “So you just got up this morning and thought – gee I’ve got nothing else to do, I guess I’ll go run a 50K race.” We looked at each other and said, “Yeah, that’s about it.” I think it was at that point where he veered off on a side-trail and we carried on.

It was great to have a lot of people ask what we were doing and to hear their supportive cheers as I told them (on the fly) of our race. OK, ‘fly’ might not be just the word I’m searching for, but I didn’t stop.

I think the final points to make involve the race and its organizers, Carlos “the Jackal” Castillo (race director) and Carlos “C2″ Castillo (assistant RD, and the Jackal’s son). They work very hard to make this a great and welcoming event. As a race director myself of events large and small, I was most impressed with how hard they work to give everyone a great experience. Carlos the Jackal actually ran the 50K backwards – in reverse direction, that is – to make sure everyone was doing OK. Every time he passed me (and everyone else, I’m sure) he had an encouraging word. It probably sounds like there would have been at least hundreds running with the four events (there was also a ‘my first marathon’ component), but in fact I believe the sum total was 68 starters. The largest field was the 50K.

Apart from it being my first try at any ‘ultra’ distance, it seems I was the oldest competitor. Interestingly, this was not a first. It is happening more often now. Not in the big events like the Eugene Marathon where there were 19 just in my M65-69 category. Maybe my plan to hang in until I start bringing home the hardware is on the verge of paying off! Oh, and while writing this piece and listing all the distances where I established insurmountable PB’s many years ago, I realized that one distance I have not done is 30K. That is not a common distance, but there is one race that happens not very far from here, each Spring – the Birch Bay 30K. That one is already finished for 2013, but I think I may just see another PB looming in 2014!

APRIL 16, 2013 – Updated comment.

I decided to update rather than create a new post following the horrible event yesterday at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. The sentiments expressed in the original piece mesh closely with what I believe will be the perspective of many, most of whom weren’t even in Boston this time.

I spent most of the morning of April 15 watching the elites on streaming video and then following friends on the athlete tracker. Once I was fairly sure most of those I knew had finished, I set off to do some domestic chores. It was only then that news started coming of the horror unfolding in downtown Boston. Much of the rest of the day was spent trying to learn what had actually happened and in a kind of profound sadness.

Many are stunned, angered, saddened by what has been done to the spirit of this iconic event. Many such people, like me, weren’t even there physically, but are always there in our hearts. As the ’fog’ lifted this morning I began to process things a bit more clearly, at least for myself. The first reaction tended to be related to the race, the Boston Marathon and naturally the people running. There is no doubt harm was done to some runners and the event itself is now permanently marred. Those physically harmed by this cowardly act deserve every thought, prayer and sympathy being sent their way, along with their families. What I feel is less obvious is the harm done to all those who should have had a wonderful triumphant experience and fabulous life-lasting memories of a great day in Boston. I heard one fellow comment on how his medal no longer represented that ‘victory’ but now something rather different and awful. But then, this is what terrorist acts are about regardless of the perpetrator(s).

Then, I got thinking about who most of the victims really were. They are our loved ones who so often stand in less than perfect conditions to cheer us runners on in our personal pursuit of excellence. The partners, parents, children, relatives and friends that are there to make our ‘victories’ special and important. Those were the people targeted by the cowards who perpetrated this act of terror. It seems (and like most everyone else, I am only going by what has been reported) the bombs were placed to harm spectators first and for the most part. Not that any such thing can make sense but for me, this just makes it all the more offensive.

Late yesterday I had heard through one form of communication or another that everyone I knew personally who was in Boston, was physically unharmed. I say physically, because it was also clear that everyone had been impacted. Some friends had actually been quite near in time and space when the bombs exploded. Some of those were family/spectators who had accompanied loved ones to cheer and celebrate.

I was personally moved by the number of people who know how much I love running and how much I WANT to do Boston, that contacted me to see a) if I was in Boston and b) if I was OK. One of those was literally on the other side of the world, in Perth, Australia! Pretty sure I’m not unique. The same thing was happening everywhere. That is one of the positives, if there can be such a thing – we have suddenly and sharply learned how many care about us and how much we care for others.

This morning social media is starting show people moving to the next phase. From sadness, attitudes seem to be moving to strength and defiance. People are not prepared to be intimidated. There is a global movement to wear a run shirt today, to do some kind of run in a virtual event. Of course we are all still thinking about and praying for those directly impacted. Some had their lives ended and a good many had them altered forever. Nobody has moved on to forget any of them, but the spirit of determination and resilience in the global running community is strong and will prevail.

My own personal determination to qualify for Boston (part of the reason for making this an update rather than a new piece) is well documented and undiminished. If anything, it is perhaps stronger now than before. I am inspired by the spirit of all those in Boston who selflessly rushed to help and by those who have picked themselves up already. I am inspired by global actions of solidarity. And, if that wasn’t enough for me on a personal basis, my friend who texted me from Perth as soon as he heard what had happened, has said if I qualify to run – he will come to Boston to cheer! My response: “Start saving your money, old chap!”

It is this sort of thing that will make this cowardly act futile in the greater scheme of things and that will ultimately raise all our spirits.

Run On!

Cheer On!

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Begin original post.

Well, OK, for regular readers that title is hardly breaking news. So, what’s the point?

Firstly, I am not alone. Secondly, this is the time of year when those of us still holding the unfulfilled aspiration are reminded repeatedly that a) the Boston Marathon is happening just days from now, and b) that we are NOT qualified. Non-runner friends generally have a somewhat quizzical look on their faces when I share this thought, to the point that I mostly do not share this thought with non-running friends. Marathon’s a marathon, right? You’ve done a bunch, right?  Uuh, yeah, yeah, OK.

This being a blog for ‘seasoned athletes’, many of whom are marathoners, I will skip the explanations I usually give to the uninitiated. But, when you get right down to it, why do we want to run Boston?

While I’ve never run Boston, I have been there to cheer on our daughter. If I didn’t already aspire to qualify and run, I surely would have after that. I know all kinds of people who have run this legendary event. That adds to it, too. Once again, there are a bunch of friends who will run in 2013 and I will be avidly following their progress.

I guess one of the reasons so many want to run Boston is the same reason people want to climb big mountains like Everest. Because it is there. If you are a runner and marathoner, particularly from North America, Boston is just something you must do (if you can). And, there is another of the big reasons – the ‘if you can part’. If I ever do qualify and can actually gain an entry under the new registration system, I will go and run if it is in any way possible. That said, almost as important as the doing is the qualifying. It is a standard of relative excellence that brings certain bragging rights. In a way it is like running your first marathon. Once you cross the finish line, you ARE a marathoner. If you never run another one, you will still be a marathoner for ever and ever. More than bragging rights though (because that is really for others to appreciate), there is the personal satisfaction and affirmation. I figure being ‘Boston Qualified’ is a high and worthy standard for any serious marathoner.

Going back to the 2009 experience of accompanying my daughter, the atmosphere and energy of Boston is like no other. I have done small events with only about 100 participants and I have done the New York City Marathon. I’ve done marathons near to home and as far away as Jamaica and Hawaii. They are all wonderful and have a marathon vibe that keeps me wanting to do marathons as long as my rapidly aging body will allow. While in Boston for the 2009 edition, I could (sadly) stand back and just observe. In my opinion, the difference seemed to be that while there are veterans and first-timers, they all had to meet a standard to be picking up a bib and chip. I love the feel of any marathon because it is a relatively momentous thing for any runner, but particularly the Boston newbies. Boston Marathoners are not running their first marathon, maybe first Boston, but not their first ever. They have run at least one just to qualify. The energy each is bringing to this event is different. Expectations are different. While many are there to do a kind of victory lap of celebration, most openly or secretly want to do well – probably as well as they did to qualify.

The thing is, everyone also knows that Boston itself is NOT an event you would choose to attempt a qualifying time for this very same event. Some will tell you that the route itself is reasonably favourable to a good run, the Boston Marathon is not. It is a hard race to run, especially the first time. Too many people are just too excited. Too many people are too eager to do well. The first almost half of the race is downhill. Wait, how can that last part be a problem? Well, combined with the first two, it seduces many into starting just waaaaay too fast, for which one almost inevitably pays the price later.

The Newton Hills, and particularly the infamous ‘Heartbreak Hill’, are still ahead after you pass the half-way point. In and of themselves, while not to be diminished, the Newton Hills are not insurmountable. They are to be respected, no doubt. However, if a person has run too aggressively in the beginning, he/she will learn just why Heartbreak Hill is so famous in running lore. Since this is about why someone would be so eager to run Boston, I guess it is fair to say that among other things we maybe all secretly want to prove that Heartbreak Hill will not break our hearts.

Inaugural Boston 5K - 2009

When I was in Boston in 2009 I got to run the inaugural 5K race held the day previous to the main event. They kindly let us borrow the marathon finish on Boyleston. Even though I was pretty aware of what was really happening, just for maybe an instant I had the epic feel of passing over that permanent finish strip painted onto the street. That, in addition to the whole feel of the event, was another reason I just have a drive to try to get back with a qualified time and do it for real.

I suppose everyone has personal perspectives and reasons for wanting to ‘do Boston’. I don’t claim to speak for everyone, but hope maybe I am hitting on some of the magic of the thing.

There are other ways to get to the start line and I do not denigrate those people (well, other than the ‘pirates’ or as we call them around here, ‘turkeys’), but most serious runners just need to qualify in order to feel right and then claim that personal victory.

I know some have been upset with the change to the qualifying standards and then the registration process that makes it even harder to actually get into the race. I was probably hit harder than most since my old standard was still out of reach and now the new one is essentially 6 minutes faster. When you add in the ‘fastest first’ registration policy my goal is that much more testing.  After consideration, I am OK with that. It is the same for everyone. If I qualify but don’t get in, I will surely be disappointed, but as I said earlier, the first level of achievement is meeting the standard. Should I do it, nobody can take that away. I see this as a major part of the charm and magic. Getting there is my first goal. Doing so in light of my personal challenges (already well documented on this blog) would already be a big personal victory. Earlier I described the BQ time as a “standard of relative excellence”. What the heck does that mean? Well, it means that there isn’t just one standard, but rather a whole bunch based on age and gender.  That said, each and every one of those individual qualifying times is just about as hard for everyone trying to achieve them. In other words the BQ is demanding, but doable if you are a decent and dedicated runner. You will never get it as an attendance prize!

I do not presume to speak for anyone but myself. However, having talked to a lot of people who aspire to, and who have achieved first the BQ time and then run the big event, I think this covers some of the key points. For sure, some make it a life goal, or the now popular ‘bucket list’ goal, but except for the difficulty of actually getting to that start line, I’m not sure it rises above other similar ‘life’ type personal achievements. While I cannot realistically hope to achieve my current BQ, within a few months I may have hope of hitting the time for my next age grouping. In the next couple of weeks, courtesy of the Eugene Marathon, I will test my ability to realistically aspire to meeting my Qualifying time later this year. I have already talked about that so won’t go there again right now.

For the moment, I will just close this post with a heartfelt wish that all those heading, as I write, for Boston and the Grandaddy of all marathons will realize their every hope, dream and expectation. Just two things: if it is sunny, don’t forget the sun-block and take it easy on that start!

Running in the Zone: A Handbook for Seasoned Athletes is now available as an e-Book at Trafford Publishing.

?????????????????

Here I sit looking down the road of 2013 with just two races scheduled. Well, one of those is kind of three races in one, but most people will just say you should count it as one. That event is the Hood to Coast Relay. The other one is the Eugene Marathon. Other than those two events, I got nothin’.

I decided to write this because I seem to have encountered quite a few fellow runners saying something similar about their as yet unclarified 2013 competition plan. OR, maybe it is really just like when you buy a new car that you feel is a bit unique and then realize it seems every second car you see on the road is the same – because I am feeling like this, I am sensitive to others feeling the same way.  Anyway, here is my story.

I will happily admit that I would maybe like to go back to  Negril, Jamaica in December for the Reggae Marathon, Half Marathon & 10K and finish the challenge there (there are three events and I have done the 10K and Half Marathon) but it has been five years since I did a full marathon in a tropical climate. I’m not sure.

While many of my friends are well launched into a busy 2013 racing year with lots of plans for more, as I already said, I know several who are like me with a couple of specific races scheduled, but otherwise a pretty blank dance card. While most of my blog subjects are relatively personal, I do try to present things that have a broader appeal as well.  Although the following is obviously pretty specific and personal, it does have a broader context for anyone thinking about the same sorts of things.

In looking at my personal situation I think the issue is that I feel like I may be at a cross-roads. That happens to everbody sooner or later and in many cases, more than just once. Let me tell you why I can’t pull the trigger on my race plan for 2013. Maybe you will help me figure it all out just by indulging me in the writing and reading of this piece.  I will be very glad to hear comments from anyone who has something to say on the subject.

Hood to Coast has actually been on the schedule since well before I realized I had little in the way of a plan for 2013. I mean, when you have to apply for entry back in October of the year before, that’s how it has to be.  And, don’t get me wrong, I am thrilled to be organizing another team for “The Mother of All Relays“. This will be number eight for me.

The one race that amounts to a conscious decision to do something specific in  2013 (Eugene Marathon) has become a bit of a pivot point it seems.  My last two marathons have been relative disasters. I feel that I really need one decent one to let me quit, if I must, feeling good about the end of my marathon career.  I have done 16, spanning 25 years. That SHOULD tell me I AM a marathoner. It also presented several examples of which I should be pretty proud – the first and best marathon (Vancouver – 1988 – 3:25), the first after coming back from a ruptured disc and 12 years of almost no racing (Victoria – 2000) and among others, my recent PB, third best raw and second best age-graded (Eugene – 2010). After that, why would anybody NEED to do another marathon? OK, if you had to ask that you should probably just stop reading now. This isn’t really about logic.

The problem is, in 2011 I signed up for Eugene with an original plan to pursue a BQ. At the time, I was only about eleven minutes off the soon to change standard, but 11 minutes is no small undertaking and with the change looming, it seemed like it was ‘now or never’. Well, anyone who reads this blog regularly has to know that I injured my left knee while training, limped to the start line and then had a pretty awful run, electing to finish rather than quit (which I should have done) and then being injured or in recovery for the rest of 2011.

In 2012, I carefully built myself up and went off to the Winthrop Marathon where I figured to record a decent time and get myself back on track. I wasn’t looking for the BQ as they had just moved the goal-posts 6 minutes farther away, but I was hoping to get myself a reasonable time in anticipation of something to come in the future.  Again, it is not a new story on these pages, but in a nutshell I really blew my hydration and wound up cramped up badly and with a very slow time. Even though it was my legs that cramped, that was a problem with my head more than any other body part. Just BAD planning and management – no injury and no long-term impact. The rest of 2012 went pretty well and as the year went along I recorded some times at shorter distances, of which I was rather pleased. I raced in some 14 events over the year. As the year drew to a close, my age-graded % Performance values had returned to the same levels as those I was recording in 2010 – a good year for me.

So here I am with a registration for the 2013 Eugene Marathon, a hotel registration in Eugene, and well into a great training program. The goal is to record a reasonable time that is expected to tell me what happens next. The last two marathons have gone over 5 hours. Those times were a function of both physical and mental issues. I know that in both cases once I passed a certain point, I only cared about getting to the finish. Could I have done either/both faster? Probably.  The times would still have been well off my personal standard. The first goal at Eugene will be to run a well managed marathon and bring home a time that is significantly under 5 hours. I had a good time for the Goodlife Fitness Victoria Half Marathon in 2012, but was more thrilled with how I managed a very even and steady pace from start to finish. That is what I am looking for in Eugene.

The next goal, which can only be fully determined once our training clinic is done and race day arrives, is to maybe achieve a time that says I CAN hope to set a BQ goal for when I am 70. The way it works with the Boston rules and my date of birth, I can start trying for the Qualifier this Fall. On the right day with good training, Eugene is a great place to test my readiness.  Before I run on April 28th, I will have a final quiet word with myself and put some numbers on my actual goal for the day. At the moment, I think the magic time is 4:30 – 4:35. The BQ is 4:25.  It does me no good to shoot for that in April because in April my Boston time is still 4:10!  Nope, this is a ‘systems test’. They tell me the good runners often do that sort of thing while preparing for a key race.

The rest of the year and maybe my remaining running career, OK racing career, could depend on that outcome.  I am pretty sure that I can go sub-5:00 and get that off my back. The question is, all things being equal, can I get near the future BQ? If I can, then I must start looking at opportunities coming after September 22, 2013.  Who knows, should Eugene go super well and I accidently go under 4:25 in April, well then it gets kind of obvious where I’ll be come April 2014! Otherwise, I have to start searching for good candidates for the qualifier race I need. All suggestions are happily accepted!

If I don’t get close to that 4:30-4:35 range with no good reason why (waaay hot or cold or whatever), then the next question is whether to quit marathons completely or take a different direction. I really do love the whole feel of the marathon, especially a destination event. I learned not so long ago that I already (just barely) qualify as a Marathon Maniac. I decided to apply for recognition/acceptance because ‘official’ or not I AM a Marathon Maniac according to their standards.  And, assuming that nothing nasty has happened in Eugene, I actually have several nearly immediate options to do what most Maniacs do – let your last race be the long training run for your next one.  Using that approach, I could ‘easily’ (logistically speaking, that is) hit 20 marathons pretty smartly. I have to admit that unless there is some kind of running disaster in Oregon in April, twenty seems like a nice round number to achieve as a career goal.

Oh yes, and over the last few years many of my running friends have launched into ultras, mostly on the trails. I’ve never done an ultra, but hey, 50km isn’t all that much more than 42.2km!  It would give me a brand new PB!  Didn’t say it would be fast, but if you’ve never done the distance before, then it would have to be a PB. I mean, I’ve done pretty much every distance from the mile to the marathon. I’ve run trails, which always seem to involve loping over mountains (and falling down). I’ve even raced naked – you’ve got nothing on me Bart Yasso! New challenges are getting more and more difficult to find, so why not something that qualifies as an ultra? (Now, can someone suggest a road 50K or even a ‘flat’ trail race without too many rocks or roots?)

So you see, everything kind of hinges on what happens in about 4 weeks. Most of my running is taken up with the training plan set out by coach Carey Nelson in the Forerunners clinic. I am being pretty faithful to the plan and intend to continue to do so until Eugene. That precludes me running several races in the Lower Mainland Road Race Series, even if I am Chair of the Series Committee.  Sorry guys.  Back soon, unless I’m off in some far off exotic land running a destination race. I know I can pop in any number of relatively local races from 5K to Half Marathon over the rest of the year. There is a very slim possibility that I will never run another marathon after April 28.  That just opens the possibility of various half marathons and shorter runs I will have to get after. Notwithstanding anything I said previously, my schedule will be filled out sooner or later, the question is ‘with what’.  I should add that above all, whether I race or not, I do want to continue to run just because it is such a fine and pleasurable thing to do.

I love the destination event and despite the fact that I have run in over 20 countries, to my own amazement, I’ve only officially raced in four. A lot of the destination foreign races are based on the marathon, but now have at least a half marathon on offer. That seems like a fun goal for someone who likes to travel and run.

I am relatively pleased that I am taking my time with all of this, notwithstanding that I am also just the teensiest bit antsy to get things going. I am sure that I am not the only person ever to face this decision point. Obviously, not the exact same one I am specifically considering, but some kind of important fork in the road (or trail).  It could be similar to mine: aging and seeing personal standards no longer achievable (possibly). It could be someone at a much younger age deciding to retire from serious elite running, including elite regional or local fields.  There comes a time for everyone when no matter how hard you run, you just aren’t fast enough to take home the hardware from your chosen events. Then, you must decide what you want from the sport.  I am a very positive person, but one who likes challenges and goals. When I must, I will change those goals to something challenging but potentially achievable. And, I will be happy. So, there is where I sit today. Big decisions coming, especially if I want to keep enjoying my running, and I DO want to keep enjoying it. This turned out to be pretty personal on one level, but hopefully it hit a familiar tone with a few readers who are maybe going through their own decision process. Maybe if one or two are going through a similar thought process, this might have helped with the thinking – a decidedly personal matter. May we all find an answer that keeps the fun in the run.

I mean, when you get right down to it, it is the thrill of the chase that counts!

Running In The Zone: A Handbook for Seasoned Athletes is now available as an e-book.

Roger Robinson

One of the greatest supporters of this blog is Roger Robinson, an original contributor to Running in the Zone: A Handbook for Seasoned Athletes. The following is a rather recent article published in Running Times, and reproduced here with permission. Roger is both a scholar and runner. Now retired, he enjoyed a career in academia combining his love of literature and history. To our great fortune, Roger found a way to combine his not insignificant skills at running (he still holds the Masters Record for the Vancouver Marathon at 2:18:42) with his obvious abilities to write. The result has been a good many columns like the one reproduced here as well as his landmark “Heroes and Sparrows – A Celebration of Running” and “26.2 Marathon Stories” co-written with his wife and epic contributor to the world of modern running, Kathrine Switzer.

New Research on Older Runners

What? Where?  No worries, it’s just me, Marathon Maniac #6837.

Actually, I qualified to be a One Star Maniac almost five years ago, but based on some of the Maniacs I know personally, was just a bit reluctant (I think the proper term is intimidated) to consider myself worthy of their exalted company. One in particular and a contributor to the Running in the Zone book, Bob Dolphin, has hundreds of marathons and ultras under his shoes. When I did my qualifying string of three in under 90 days, the last of the three was just #10 of my career. Definitely seemed unworthy.

BUT, there are all kinds of Marathon Maniacs and sheer volume is not the only qualification. You can technically be a Bronze Level or One Star Maniac with your first two marathons as long as you run them within 16 days, or your first three if you do them in no more than 90 days. Run those first two back to back on the same weekend and you are instanly qualified at the Four Star or Iridium Level. Some newer friends and (now) fellow Maniacs have lately been prodding me to apply/join, so this week I did. I am now at 16 marathons, soon to be 17 after I run the Eugene Marathon on April 28. I guess that is more than the “average bear”, to quote the greatest bear of all, Yogi.

I’m not sure my busted up body can stand the strain of doing what it would take to advance from the base level, but I did that fair and square in 2008, so why not proudly yet humbly step up and take my place with this group? I am looking forward to my first race as a certified Maniac. Won’t have to wait long. Once you are a member, you can access certain members only parts of the Marathon Maniac web site. That has allowed me to learn that I will be far from alone when I hit the streets of Eugene on April 28.

Maui Sept 2008

I must admit I am kind of thinking of trying a ‘trick’ used by most of the Maniacs when they want to string together a series of marathons, namely using the last race as the ‘long run’ of your training for the next event. Done right, it seems you can probably set out a nicely spaced pattern that would let you run a marathon at least once a month, at least for a period of time. In truth, it is more or less what I did back in 2008 when I actually qualified for the base level.  Specifically, that time I ran the Maui Marathon in September as the first event. I knew it would be hot and probably humid (turned out hotter and ‘humider’ even than expected), so intended to just enjoy the experience with low expectation for time.

Victoria Marathon Oct 2008

That worked fairly well, so about one month later I ran the Royal Victoria Marathon with a touch more purpose. Unfortunately, that was also when I first tried marathoning as a contact sport. Huh? OK, in a nutshell, just after passing half way in what was a very satisfying time/pace I got knocked flat on my butt by an overenthusiastic water station volunteer. At first I wasn’t even sure I could get up let alone run on. But, run on I did although I quickly started to seize up and feel the impact. I finished and the time was so-so to OK.

CIM Finish Area Dec 2008

My real goal that year was to go to Sacramento for the California International Marathon and a shot at the Boston Qualifier I have been chasing forever. Now technically, CIM was a bit more than the four weeks or month of my theory. Whatever, although I did not achieve the BQ, it turned out to be one of the best times I had done in years.

I’ve been thinking of trying that kind of sequence again, Marathon Maniacs notwithstanding, and was talking to our Forerunners Clinic coach, Carey Nelson about it. Carey is a Canadian Olympian (5,000m and marathon), still runs and apparently loves the strategy and theory of running as much as the doing. He was all over the idea and suggested a plan where you would do just such a string of three or four marathons, but that you would set it up so you would intentionally run the first some 20 minutes or so slower than your anticipated optimum target time. The next would be 10 minutes slower and then the third (or fourth) would be intended to be at your target pace and time. It seemed like a swell idea until I started trying to find a suitable sequence of races that would meet both my general plan and budget.  Let’s just say it is still a work in progress, and because I have some other ideas in mind around Eugene, have no intention of purposely running it twenty minutes slower than I think I can. I have identified a potential series of runs starting in September. Stay tuned for more on that. We shall see what we shall see.

In the meantime, I intend to enjoy my early days as a Marathon Maniac. I will be proud to wear my Maniac shirt once it arrives and even to withstand the clever yet scurilous comments of my (envious) friends who just wish they were Marathon Maniacs!  Hey, maybe some of them are and just don’t know it!  If YOU aren’t sure, check out the Marathon Maniacs Criteria.

 Running In The Zone: A Handbook For Seasoned Athletes is now available in e-book format.

As promised, here is the account of Judi Cumming, the ‘Seasoned Pilgrim’ of the title, and who after trekking the nearly 800km El Camino in just over a month, I think definitely qualifies here as a Seasoned Athlete.  She is a woman of far fewer words than her husband, so I will just add a word or two about how proud she made her family and friends in not only taking on this personal

challenge, but also preparing ahead of time to meet the very real challenge of walking that far, averaging some 24km per day. Yes, they were walking.  But that is one heck of a walk!   So, here it is, one woman’s account of some of her experiences and impressions as she trekked in the company of three friends from Canada, across the mountains, hills and fields of Spain.

We made it! On October 19 under sunny skies, Dave & Rena Chase, JoAnne Shepherd and I followed the yellow arrows the last 20km into Cathedral Square at Santiago de Compostela, Spain to complete our 790km El Camino pilgrimage.  Thirty-three days (and a lifetime) earlier we had registered at the pilgrim office in St-Jean-Pied-de-Port, France, affixed a scallop shell (symbol of St. James) to our daypacks and headed out. Through sun, rain, wind, amazing sunrises and moonlit evenings, we strode, skipped, stumbled and slogged our way over mountains, across plains, through ancient villages and historic cities – getting only a little help from an occasional ride in a motor vehicle.

Spanish Sunrise

Sometimes we were on our own, other times we joined pilgrims from around the world – Korea, Japan, Ukraine, South Africa, Slovakia, Australia and New Zealand as well as the European countries, all intent on following the Way of St. James. We were surprised to meet so many Irish and a big contingent of Canadians and Americans.  Mette from Denmark joined us for a few enjoyable days. 

Not only did we share the long, varied route – sometimes a rocky path, sometimes a village street – we also came together in the hostels at night as we figured out the best way to get ourselves and our clothes clean using the often limited facilities.  Often a glance across the hostel just before lights out at 9:30 or 10:00 revealed a massive jumble of wet-but-not-as-clean-as-we’d-like clothes and towels dangling to dry from all the bunks accompanied by the distinctive ‘seasoned pilgrim’ smell lingering in the air. 

We all had our reasons for taking on the Camino challenge – some wanted to share their goals – others preferred to keep them private. My intention was to use the many days of walking as a way to focus on keeping my heart open to Love and my mind open to Truth.  Sometimes as I trudged along, a friend, family member or even acquaintance would come into my mind and I would extend love, peace and happiness to him or her.  The day before I left for this adventure, my lovely friend Marjean died, so she travelled with me from time to time, as did my dear cousin Bill, whose sudden death I discovered while checking email in a Spanish village.

Many of our fellow travellers carried cell phones or ‘pads’ and took advantage of the many Wi-Fi areas along the way.  We had only a basic cell phone for booking hostels and arranging the daily transport of our large packs.  Although we could access internet at some of the hostels, it was much less available than Wi-Fi, so we were largely out of touch with current events and day-to-day information.  This isolation seemed to contribute to the peaceful nature of our days and perhaps even gave us a bit of common ground with our medieval predecessors.

Country Scene - Galicia, Spain

Whether people were walking for eight days or eight weeks, support, respect and camaraderie was the prevailing attitude on the trail, in the hostels and around the table as we fueled up each evening on the ample pilgrim meals complete with vino tinto and postres (dessert).  Local people all along the way were also amazingly helpful and encouraging – some would shout out or grab us by the arm to redirect us as we attempted to make a wrong turn along a village street and others would set out a table with fruit and biscuits and water to help keep up our strength.

The hostel experience

Even though I’d trained well and was physically prepared, my personal journey got off to a rather shaky start. After lying awake all night in an upper bunk my first time in a hostel, I had thoughts of catching the next plane home! (My rationale being that if I wasn’t able to sleep the first night, all the others would be just as bad, then I’d never have the strength to walk so I may as well give up now – things get like this when I’m lying awake, listening to strangers snore, wondering how I’m going to get down from the top bunk and find my way to the bathroom when I can’t remember where I’ve put my headlamp!)  But the encouragement of my three companions and the grace

Stones laid at the foot of the cross represent intentions.

of God spurred me on. My second hostel night, I found myself considering my bunkmates friends rather than strangers, learned how to properly insert my earplugs, and had a wonderful sleep.  Although not all hostels are created equal, most are pretty good and some are downright charming (especially since JoAnne kindly volunteered to take a top bunk, leaving the bottom one for me).

Cathedral Square - Santiago de Compostela, Spain

I certainly now better understand the wide appeal of the Camino and truly appreciate the satisfaction rising to this challenge brings.  Even though I recognize many of the physical and mental benefits right now, I feel there are many others that will come to light as time goes by.

Editor’s Note:  All photographs are courtesy of JoAnne Shepherd

When Steve King and I began working on Running in the Zone: A Handbook for Seasoned Athletes, we considered a number of potential titles including “Running on the Shady Side of 50“.  After recruiting potential contributors and considering some of the commentary, we realized that the older, “seasoned’ athlete will tend to self-identify and some would see themselves as seasoned at 40 and others, much later.  Thus, we finally came to the title we chose.

Fauja Singh - Mayor's 5K Sept 2012

Today, and interestingly enough Steve King was even involved in his well-known role as race announcer, I found myself running in a ZONE quite unimagined!  I guess it could be called the “Century Zone“. I was privileged to join in the entourage or posse of Mr. Fauja Singh (aka the ‘Turbaned Tornado’).  The local press has been full of him and his story, as has been the running media.  I won’t spend a lot of time recounting that he is well over 100 years of age, or that he has done some amazing things and holds all kinds of World Records. For this post, I just want to make a few remarks about the experience today, and the impact of this man in our midst.

From the time it was announced he would run the Mayor’s 5K at the Surrey International World Music Marathon, much has been made of it in the media. A number of people from the running community were asked to run with Fauja Singh Chindsa and I was so very happy to be one of them. We did have a bit of a practical purpose, namely to assist with making a bit of a buffer around him and ensure there were no unfortunate accidents.  That turned out to be pretty easy work and perhaps unnecessary.  Well, except that from time to time we had to gently warn slower competitors, yes – I said slower – to take care of the rather large group coming up from behind them.

To be in the presence of someone so revered in his community was very special.  It may be the closest I ever get to running with a Rock Star!  Signs were everywhere and at pretty much every major intersection there were crowds of people cheering him on.  Fauja Singh does not really speak English, but as we ran he chatted with what I learned were largely family members; “grand-children’ I was told, but I’m betting on at least Great-Grandchildren myself. You could tell how much they respected him just by the tone, but also that he was very witty.  He would often say something that would be met with considerable laughter.

I doubt I’ve ever had my picture taken so many times!  It was a great choice of the Surrey ogranizing committee to make the invitation and I’m thrilled that Marty Wanless of Allsport Marketing Services saw fit to include me in the event. The day could not have been much better. The sun was bright and by the time we started at 9:30am, warm, but not hot. I think some of the other runners would have been thrilled to have joined in, at least in the cheering at the start, but both half and full marathoners had long since left the area. In fact, some of the half marathoners had begun to finish.

I will be honest that I really didn’t know what to expect, other than it was going to be fun and very special joining a centennarian on a run.  I had heard that a time of 40-41:00 might be expected.  While that wasn’t going to be the winning time, it would still require running and not total walking. For the record, we were a good five minutes faster. We never walked at any point and on the easier downhill sections, the pace of running was commendable!  Recall, I mentioned that we gently alerted other participants of the large group accompanying Fauja Singh as we passed. In the end his time was 35:55 and he finished first in his age category.  OK, I made the last part up.  There is no Over 100 category in this race, or any other I have EVER done.  He did finish 200, out of a total of 356.  It hardly matters, though I just want to make the point that at 100+, this man runs.  The awe created by him being out there, looking very spry and healthy and inpsiring so many others to “the possible’, is what really counts.  As I said to one of his family, a man who was maybe in his 30′s or 40′s, “I guess as I find myself tiring, even hurting, in my next marathon, I can think of Fauja Singh and just dig down because at my tender age, ‘seasoned’ as it may be, I’ll have little to complain about, or expect sympathy either”.  I have others I call upon when I need inspiration.  More than once Terry Fox (his statue at Mile Zero in Victoria) has spurred me to the finish, as I know it will in the Goodlife Fitness Victoria Half Marathon this coming weekend, but now I can also call on the inspiration of Fauja Singh – and I know I will.

I don’t want to sound silly or sappy about this or some kind of groupy, but I do love being around excellence of all kinds. I was in the presence of excellence today and I think I felt an aura of calmness and strength. I suppose that might have been my own impression, but I don’t think so as I watched both the immediate crowd of us running with him, as well as the spectators. We all want our heroes so maybe we create our own images and legends to that end, and that is fair enough when people like Fauja Singh provide the inspiration.

Some have said he may be 103 now.  If that is so, then I just have to keep going for another 35 years and maybe I can run like this and inspire the folks out there. Oh, and continue running marathons.  This 5K today was just a bit of a training run in preparation for the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon. Fauja Singh is also booked to run Singapore in the near future.  I do know some older and quite remarkable runners right here in our own community, namely the ever amazing BJ McHugh.  It never ceases to amaze the crowds around when they learn her age and of her running capacity and performance.  That said, even BJ has to look forward another 20 years to join Fauja!

It is actually a great thing that so many people continue with what they love, in our case running, regardless of the fact that the  ’manual’ or best advice says we are too old. Most of us just do it – for our own satisfaction.  I guess that if you keep on long enough and choose your events wisely, you will win something from time to time. I was actually a little shocked (and only a little secretly pleased) to note that had I run the Mayor’s 5K at the same pace I ran the Team Joshua 5K last weekend, I would have won my age category. For about a micro-second  the small shallow innner me considered whether that would have been worth the doing and concluded I wouldn’t have traded this experience for anything. 

Actually, it is also a nice way to slide into the fact that I encountered Joshua and Michelle, his mom, at the end of the half marathon – both wearing the biggest finisher medals (and smiles) I think I’ve ever seen.  They were both looking pretty proud and pleased and it was great to hear how successful the Fun Run a week earlier had been in getting them closer to the goal of qualifying for Boston.

So, there you have it.  Two amazingly inspiring weekends of running. Here’s hoping the inspiration carries forward to my upcoming half marathon in Victoria!  Now, as I started writing that, I really intended that inspiration to lead to a good time, but even as I wrote I realized what I really meant was that it would be another great experience, whatever that might turn out to be. Just to close off here: my presonal thanks to everyone that made today so special.

Reggae 10K - Dec 2011

Hang around a running blog long enough and somebody is going to challenge somebody to something! 

Huh?

Chris "That Runnin Guy" Morales

Well, a few days ago That Runnin’ Guy (Chris Morales) posted that he had just come back from an LSD training session in preparation for the Goodlife Fitness Toronto Half Marathon on May 6.  On the very first bounce, Larry Savitch (LSFitness) came back with his reveal that he was running a half on the very same day in New Jersey, the Long Branch Half Marathon.  Not to be outdone, I was on there in a thrice to say I would be running my very own half marathon at the BMO Vancouver (Half) Marathon.  Nothing unusual about three runners doing a half marathon, but we will all be doing them on MAY 6, 2012.  The other interesting thing is that the three of us only know one another through the Reggae Marathon, Half Marathon & 10K where Chris is the chief blogger and where Larry and I have both been contributors.  All three of us ran something at the last Reggae Marathon in December of 2011, and made personal contact with each other, me for the first time.  Chris introduced our “event” today on his blog: The Reggae Runners Half Marathon Challenge.

Larry and Karen in Negril

Well, wouldn’t you know it, before you could say “Runners to your marks”, somebody had thrown out a challenge.  I think it might have been me.  Umm.  It was me.  BUT, only if we used age-graded results ‘cause that Larry, well he’s 21 years younger than me.  Chris is kind of in the middle, but still closer to Larry than me.  Still, after a little research (which I really should have done BEFORE I threw out the challenge) it turns out that our times, upon age-grading, would make for a fair fight.

It turned out that while Larry and Chris were right on it, neither had really much heard of the magic of age-grading.  I provided a quick lesson and all agreed it would be a great and fun way for us boys to be boys. 

“I can run faster than you!” 

“No you can’t” 

Yes I can!!!!” 

WELL, I can run faster than BOTH of you!

See, I can pretty much tell you that Larry will have the fastest time, Chris will be next and I will be last. BUT……………………. once you apply the age-grading calculator things even out a bit.  It appears that doing something resembling our recent personal bests potentially makes us pretty close.  Each of us will have to train and race hard in order to be the winner.  Everything going well, it actually could be ME! (It WILL be me, but please don’t tell the other guys.  They think they’ve got me beat from the word ‘Go’.)

We have agreed that we will all blog about it individually and that we will take it over to the Reggae Marathon Blog from time to time, just for fun!  (And, because that is the thing that brings us together, other than running itself.)  We will also be found yapping and snapping about it on Facebook. 

The rules are pretty simple. 

We will all run a half marathon (21.1km for the purpose of the calculator).

Our input time will be our chip time.

Because the age-grading calculator works from an equation, we will each use our age to two decimal places, so we can properly recognize that Larry will be almost a year older than his day of race age in simple years.  (I don’t want any whining after the fact that he was almost a year older than his nominal age and therefore not treated fairly!)

When the smoke clears, the guy with the fastest age adjusted time is the winner.

As I already noted, it could actually be any one of us that hits the best age-graded time.  I have written about this subject before, this being a blog for “seasoned athletes”.  All three of us are old enough to qualify, too.  Larry is the youngest but he is currently the same age as the two youngest contributors to Running in the Zone, at time of writing.  I promised as my part of this challenge, to provide a quick overview of age-grading for any followers who want to better understand what we are going to do, and maybe explore how age-grading could fit into his/her own running.  So, here goes.

People run.

When people are young, they tend to run fast(er).

People age.

When people get older, they tend to run slower.

Some time ago this little truth was examined in detail and it was found that if you sampled enough runners and their performances at various distances, you could create a set of equations that reasonably related times done at one age with times at another.  There are a bunch of assumptions behind the math that none of us needs to really worry about.  I have used the system for years and am satisfied that it works pretty well.  So are a lot of sport bodies and races, because a good many events now have an age-graded result table.  The particular AGE GRADING system I like (and the one we will use) is the one found at the World Masters Association web site and developed by Howard Grubb.

You input the event (distance), your age (as noted, it can be decimalized) and your time.  You hit “Age Grade” and as if by magic, you will find a whole range of information, including an adjusted time and a percent performance value against the standard for your age.  You can actually use this particular calculator as a predictor for other distances, by simply changing ONLY the event distance and then hitting “Result”.  The assumption is that your % Performance will be constant, and out pops an adjusted (projected) time for the new event.  There is another rather important assumption, too – that you have actually trained for the projected event.  For example, you can enter a 5K result and then project to a marathon finish, but if you don’t train for a marathon, well I think most people will know what is going to happen!

The purists still aren’t 100% sure about this, but it works well enough to give recognition to the performances of outstanding older runners who just can’t record raw times like they might have when they were 32-35 years of age.   Curious age to pick, eh?  Well not really, because the age-grading sort of takes us all back to a mythical athlete of about that age.  You can put your info in at any age, but only after around 35 does the ‘needle’ start to move.  The older you get, the more it moves.

I have found that over a good many years, even though my raw times have slowly eroded, my adjusted times compare very well (when not injured, when properly trained and not in some weird situation involving extreme heat or mountains).  I seem to be holding my own.  This is where I like the % Performance value.  When running well, I tend always to be in the low to middle 60% range.  I was when I could run a 3:25 marathon and was in 2010 when I notched one just over an hour slower.  But, I was 43 the first time and 65 the second.  And right there friends, is why our little challenge should work so nicely.  Larry is 46 and I am 67, so we are just adding a couple of years to each end of my well-tested range.

Let the training (and blogging) BEGIN!