This will be complete waste of a blog post to anyone who is younger than 30, since, I have to say, you have youth on your side. Or a relative version of youth at least. No, today we’re talking to the older athlete, one who is slowing down even as they read these words, in little tiny incremental ways. And yet, despite all that, the shoes continue to get laced up, and body is shoved out the door in yet another exercise session.
I’m 45, and I’ve been running for almost 34 years now, and I find myself talking constantly to older athletes, comparing notes. Especially now that I’m back training for a Dipsea race that isn’t going to come and feeling every one of those 45 years. I’ve always relied on my watch as a tool, an objective way to keep track of the runs, both easy and hard, and while it still lets me do that, it also serves as a terrific reminder of the limitations of the contemporary body.
He who races time has an opponent who does not suffer casualty, and never is it more true than in the aging athlete. However, I was in a meeting with non-runners who kept referring to some local 20minute 5K runners as “elite runners”, and I made a correction: that they should see them as competitive runners, not elite.
Because therein lies our salvation really. Should I get to race day on Memorial Day and lace up the Tarther racing shoes and really go for it, I’m running down not the younger me that could get into the mid-30’s for a 10K but other masters athletes who are on the same race course. The watch, the oppressive training aid, becomes useless to the trained athlete who wishes to actually compete with those around him. Singlets in front and back and your mission, your mission is to beat as many of them as you can. Yes, split times can help but that’s missing the point.
The point is that, while I can’t run as fast on the little black Timex as I used to, I can still finish up a hard training session with the same head to toes buzz that was so addictive when I was in my 20’s. I’m chasing the drug addled exercise brain of my youth more than I’m chasing my youth and I’m ok with that race, because I’m going to get more out of it.
I won’t catch my youth. Its not possible and I know that. I followed it for a while in my early 30’s til it surged away up and around the corner with ease wearing racing flats that aren’t made anymore. (That was around the same time someone handed me a child instead of a cup at a water stop.) What may be possible to capture and hold on to the moments that inspire post race conversations: the surge that pulled you away from the rival, the great hill climb, the final push into the finish chute. I a great couple moments of that in the 2009 Dipsea that made me realize just how much I enjoy this sport and the competition part of it. Especially when I can finally put the little black Timex into its place: as a tool on race day, and not the master it is on the training day.
Get on out there and go for it.
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