Celebrating 60 Took A Few Days More Than Planned

I’ve been looking forward to spring 2018 for a couple of years now. Turning age 60, this past March 9, was at the forefront of my thoughts the past few weeks and included things like feeling lucky to be healthy, spending time with my wonderful wife and seeing my children continue along the path of life via schooling, marriage and bringing our first grandchild into the world. Reflections on the past have been bouncing around my head, but the push to keep reaching for new goals, new adventures and new lessons in life is stronger. 

Last fall, my wife and I decided to sign up for this year’s Boston Marathon, our first, which is currently number one on our focus chart. Although we had both qualified with times over ten minutes faster than our respective age groups required, life was speeding by and we nearly let the opportunity pass. There will come another time that fits better with everyone’s schedule, we told ourselves. Let’s wait until the boys are out of school and the grandson is older, then everyone can go, we decided. It wasn’t long until our friends and family let us know we had to sign up for 2018, with many good reasons to do so. The top two reasons were, one, “Because you never know what life will bring!”, followed closely by, “When you will both qualify again in the same year?” And so, we signed up, and we are incredibly thankful for the encouragement.

As a lifelong runner midway through my fourth decade of running, I can detect when my training is going well. The last couple of years I have had, for me, decent results in the few races I’ve done. Looking ahead at entering a new age group, I’ve been motivated to line up my training to see what I can accomplish over the next couple of years. It’s been well over 30 years since my marathon PR of 2:59.48, but I feel ready to try and see if I can dip under 3:38 at age 60. I’d call that a successful season and something I should go after before it’s too late.  Previous to my wife and I signing up for Boston, I and a friend had signed up to race the Fargo Marathon in May, just five weeks after Boston. I’ve been double-motivated this winter to be prepared for these two events, something that while exciting, does come with a front seat on the roller-coaster of long distance running.    

Training for an April marathon in Minnesota does have its drawbacks. Prime running weather it is not, so we’ve put in many miles on treadmills at the local YMCA. With plenty of others around us also training for their own health and events, it really hasn’t been too bad. In fact, the consistency of the ‘mill has brought us into spring in decent shape. Coupled with a few long, outdoor runs things are looking good for April 16. Boston will be a celebration run for us. We are looking forward to enjoying our run together and soaking in all that race day has to offer for first timers. We will be spending time in the greater Boston area a few days ahead and after the marathon to enjoy the historic sites, too.

One thing I’ve learned over the past few years is that to gain a PR ( in my case an Age Group PR ) you need to remember it can also stand for Patience and Recovery. This struck again just last week, on the day before my birthday. I had come off my first 20-mile training run the Saturday before, which had gone well. I even took it easy the following Tuesday, backing off a bit on my progressive run. After another easy day on Wednesday, Thursday morning’s pace run was proceeding just fine. Six and a half miles into the run I felt a slight twinge at the top of the instep on my right foot. Okay, I thought, just a passing tweak. A few strides later I had to step off the treadmill belt and massage my foot. I had felt a much deeper twinge. Foot massaged and stretched, I was back on the treadmill. It took only a few strides to realize my run was over. This was a brand new pain, and sharp at that. I let my wife, J’net, who was running on a treadmill next to me, know that I was done with my run and I’d meet her downstairs. Heading to the locker room I wasn’t worried about running long on Saturday, I was worried about finishing Boston!

Injuries are a part of long distance running, and as we age they pop up much more frequently. It’s difficult to re-train yourself in the battle against injuries. When to hold off from running more often even when you feel good, or to lay back when you really want to push harder. It’s even tougher still when you feel you’ve taken the precautions to stay healthy and something new shows up when things are going just fine, as was the case with my right foot. I didn’t hesitate on treatment; Advil, ice, massage and stretching. Oh, and no running for three days. Not the way I wanted my first running weekend at age 60 to play out, but it was a hard reminder of how quickly things can change.  

Having time to try and figure out what happened, I surmised that since my right foot strikes the ground at a straighter angle than my left, it was taking slightly more of a hit on the treadmill. Each time my right foot came forward it caught just a bit more of the resistance the belt feeds back in its reverse motion, especially during faster workouts, and eventually my foot gave way to a breakdown. At least that’s what I’m going with for now.

Forced rest isn’t always a bad thing, “You won’t lose any fitness” was the mantra from J’net and my running friends. I agreed and let the weekend pass with a bit more birthday celebrating and eating than I had planned, but it was all good. Sixty only comes around once in a lifetime!

By Monday evening things were going much better. My treatment had paid off and I was heading out the door with J’net for an easy five miler to test out my foot. I did change the lacing on my running shoes, I was not using the upper eyelets, hoping to ease the pressure on my instep. Throughout the run my foot felt fine, even as we sidestepped patches of snow and ice on the asphalt path through our local park. By the time we returned I was very pleased that my foot had totally ignored the effort. No pain, no stiffness.

My fears of not running Boston were put to rest. Of course, I was not taking the quick recovery for granted. The previous fall I had pulled a calf muscle and was out from running for six weeks, and with another six weeks to get back to a basic fitness level if was a three-month issue. Three days off was no big deal, and the next evening I headed out for an effort run. Usually on Tuesdays I do a progressive workout, starting with a warm-up mile, then dropping 15 to 30 seconds a mile each mile or two. On the treadmill I had worked up to doing the last five of my eight miles at 7:30 pace. This had taken about five weeks to accomplish. During those weeks I had substituted one of the progressive runs for a workout of 3 x 2 miles at 7:14 pace for something different. This would be my first outdoor effort run of the season, and my first age 60 effort.

Sometimes you know right away how the run may go. Taking shorter strides as I began, I felt better than I had figured I would. It had taken me a while to get out the door to run after arriving home from work. I delayed myself a couple times and almost didn’t get out. Down the block I went, gauging my effort from the start. A couple turns and I had a nice flat stretch ahead of me to get into rhythm. It was working. After two miles I knew I had started out well, even though I don’t look at my gps watch on these runs. I told myself, “It’s good to run fatigued!” About the third mile in, my system was, as I like to say, fully operational; lungs full, blood flowing, mind locked in on the goal. Just before the first of three moderate uphills started I was debating between a six or eight mile distance for the workout. Six seemed not long enough, even at the effort I was putting out, but eight, after the foot thing, seemed like it would be pushing it. I settled on seven.

Heading up the first incline I though of my Boston Buddies and the many hill repeats they have worked through. Motivation from thinking of them hitting their hills got me through the roughly two miles that included three inclines and declines. After that section the out and back course was mostly flat with a few subtle rises through neighborhoods. The last stretch was the same section that got me rolling, and was a blast to head back home along. “This is what running is!” I said to myself. Body working, mind on task, goal being met with a solid effort. This was fun!

Nearing the last turn into my neighborhood I kept steady. No kick, just keeping the effort, although I had worked harder the last two miles. When the mile seven beep sounded on my watch, I intentionally kept going for a few more strides, knowing I could have run longer. I hit the stop button and began my cool down jog.

I play the pace game many runners do before they look at their watch. You begin to guess how the run felt, and what the pace will end up being, secretly hoping for a ‘faster than it felt’ time. I did feel the run had gone well, and I figured low 7:40’s, maybe high to mid 7:30’s. I looked at the total time, did some quick math ( not my strong suit ) and figured, “Oh, 7:40’s.” Kinda bummed, but then remembered, “Hey, I ran seven miles, not six!” Final overall pace was 7:27, five seconds faster than my best mid-distance workout last year. I was much happier, especially since I finished the last two going 7:20 and 7:10, feeling good.

As disappointed as I was a mere five days earlier when I had walked away from the treadmill with a sore foot, the turnaround was worth it. I was humbled with an injury, and then humbled with a workout that told me things are gonna be okay. Stick with the plan, absorb the shocks of the roller-coaster with calm, and then get right back at it once it’s go time. Turning 60 and being midway through my fourth decade of running, it’s great to get as excited about running as I did in my youth. I’m still learning, and that’s awesome!