I missed the hardware (this time)

Good news and bad news about the 5K I ran today.

Good news: it was my first 5K of the year, after doing 10Ks, swim meets and triathlons to start the year.

Really good news: I finally broke my old personal best time and set a new one.

Sort of bad news: no medal this time. I finished fourth in my age group, forty seconds behind third place. No medal for fourth, which is disappointing, as this particular race had especially nice hardware.

But I’m happy with the new PR time, as that old one was from two age groups ago, and set on a flat course (today’s race had three small hills and a persistent headwind). Also old for this race: my current running shoes, which are retired from regular use as of today. I’ve been saving for a new pair, and got the money together yesterday, even though I have still not found full-time employment.

Being out of work has made me healthier, because I force myself to get up and move around more often. I’m not sedentary for eight hours a day. The weekly track workouts, with the bleacher climbs and sprints, have helped as well. And competition has kept me focused on not getting depressed and caught up in the frustration of not having a job just yet. It’s also something of a social outlet, after sitting in front of my home computer working on the job search, or freelance writing, or both.

I plan to keep competing, though not spending hog-wild on it at this point. I realize this is not the ideal time to be spending money on these endeavors. But I consider regular racing, whether it be running, swimming or triathlons, a reasonable investment in my health and my sanity. At this point, it’s hard to tell whether I am chasing what’s left of my mental marbles, or they are rolling behind me, trying to catch up. Either way, the personal race should be at least as interesting as my next event.And a note to my friend Steve, who suggested that I “throw a little chocolate into every day”: my friend, I know you meant that literally, because you know how I feel about chocolate. But I’m going to consider your advice in the figurative sense as well. I’ll consider a good competition day to like a piece of the best chocolate: sweet, satisfying and a tonic for the senses.

Note To The Blondes: I Heard You

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I ran a 5K Sunday, part of my continuing tuneup/workout/preparation for my upcoming triathlon. Nothing out of the ordinary; it was a nice day and a decent run. And I ran into trash talk, which is pretty much par for the (running) course for me.

The two women thought I could not hear them. They assumed I was far enough away. I may be old(er), but my hearing is still testing as perfect. They seemed to think my presence at the event was unwarranted, unnecessary and downright silly. On the contrary, I did belong there, as did everyone else who chose to show up and run or walk. Partly, it was to pay the money towards a good cause (a children’s charity) and partly because it was a good excuse to get up, get out and move.

What is the deal with women coming out to a running event, a place where we should be delighted in each others’ strengths and abilities and be willing to push each other when the need arises, and instead knock each other down with words employed by the schoolyard bullies many of us have known, our children have known and whose tactics we claim to deplore?

I felt like walking up to both of them and pointing out that since they were both clearly over the age of thirty, their matching running outfits was more the kind of thing that looks cute on eight-year-old girls, but not so much on grown women. Then again, maybe that’s their bond. Maybe that’s what they use as a way to get through the tough workouts. That and knocking their fellow runners. I didn’t say anything to them; at this point, I’ve heard the insults often enough that I’m almost immune.

But I’m not invisible. I’m the everyday runner, not the elite athlete. I’m the mid-to-back-of-the-pack finisher, not the one whose getting the award. The phrase “Been there, done that, got the T-shirt” applies to me, because  after I’ve been there, done (run) that, the T-shirt is about all I get to take home. And that’s fine. It’s what I come for, along with making some new friends and learning some new things about my running that may help me at the next race.

So don’t insult me (unless you want to do it directly to my face and in full range of my ability to at least verbally strike back) or assume I’m less of a runner than you because I’m older, slower or not as pretty. It makes me mad, but I’ll warn you, it also makes me better.

Golf Course: Yes. 10K Course: Oh. Heck. NO!

I hate to say this, but I did a 10K running race yesterday that I will never do again.

Golf Course (Photo credit: iMorpheus)

It wasn’t the distance, the cause, the volunteers or the post-race food. It was the course.

Almost half of it was on a golf course. A wet, hilly, uneven golf course. And it was  open; people were out there in carts, on the driving range, whacking golf balls and staring at us chugging and huffing (OK, staring at ME chugging and huffing; everyone else seemed to be gliding gazelle-like over the course). And it was on a public course, which meant that any duffer of questionable talent could be out there, knocking off a bucket or two. I’m shocked I wasn’t clocked in the head by a trajectory-challenged Titleist .

So pardon me while I rant:

Dear Race Director,

The town in which this race took place works with you to fund a very good cause [without specifically mentioning the race name or town, I’ll say the funds raised go towards supporting active-duty soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan] so the least you could do is get this race right. Why disrespect the 5K and 10K folks with such a lousy run? It’s not fun to slog, slip and panic about losing your footing, while trying to get a respectable time. The town isn’t big, but it’s big enough and has enough streets to support both races. Start one earlier so runners don’t pile onto each other. Do a double-loop 5K course, if you have to.  OK, use some of the golf course if you must, but keep it on the paths, NOT on the uneven, sloppy turf. For heaven’s sake, we were running sideways on some of those hills!

In spite of conditions, my time was not awful, but it would have been far better with a flat, firm surface. Yesterday was a challenge, but surprisingly, after a walk this morning, I feel only slightly sore, thanks to a long walk and some stretching. I feel good enough to go clean a closet or two and do some laundry. Oh, and my next training run? It’s tomorrow morning, of course. I wouldn’t miss it.

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When Old Met Stupid: Pain Is A Ten Mile Race

I ran a ten-mile race on Saturday.

It’s Monday, and stuff still hurts. Not as much as it did Saturday night, and nowhere near as much as it did Sunday, but pain still exists.

This getting older stuff sucks. Years ago, NSAIDs, fluids, rest and heat/ice would have me up and about in forty-eight hours, like nothing happened. Now, the same treatments merely have me moving like a cross between the walking dead and the wandering wounded: slow, shuffling and with a seriously pained expression on my face.

It was not a good race, though I am proud to say that I did it faster than I did it five years ago. The cramps and disorientation hit me in the final mile, but by then, I knew the finish was close enough to walk. It took three quarts of fluid to get me even close to the edge of normal. The desire for food, never normally an issue for me, did not arrive for almost four hours. All that empty space was taken by liquids. And when I did eat, it wasn’t anything to be proud of: veggie burgers and a little cole slaw. Not the celebratory meal it should have been, since I think that’s the last time I will be attempting that particular running event.

I have to accept the fact that age + weight + stress + other life issues does not a good, fast, long-distance runner make. The weight is going down, but nothing changes the aging process. Stress is an up-and-down thing, and life issues in general come and go. Five and ten-kilometer events are certainly within range, but longer than 6.2 miles…been there, done those and actually do have the T-shirts. Which I never wear, by the way.  I don’t have much to show for my racing career except those shirts (well, OK, one first-place age-group medal from a few weeks ago. But I was one of only two in my category, which helped) so I treat them well. I keep them folded and in neat stacks on an open shelf in my closet. I look at them every day, to remind myself of

Some runs make you feel as stiff as, well...

how far I’ve come.

So, ten miles was not the smartest choice. I’ll live with that, and look forward to the shorter distances with less pain the next day, and the day after that. Oh, and I’ve already signed up for my next event, in three weeks. A ten kilometer event, with some elevation changes, no less. A different kind of challenge.

Photo courtesy of Nigel Homer/Creative Commons ©