Back in the mid-2000s, while competing for the Seattle Running Club, I had a considerably older teammate named Kent. As of the first cross-country race we did together, I think he was 51.
As I recall, Kent’s running schedule consisted of doing a race or other run on the weekend, then abstaining from running until the following weekend. He kept this schedule because each run was hard on his body and he needed the rest of the week to recover.
At the time, as a sturdy 33-year-old, I regarded Kent with a sort of patronizing sympathy. It seemed to me that old age had turned him into something less than a serious runner. But now that I myself am 51, Kent’s plight doesn’t seem so bad. It is now my plight too, more or less, and it’s one I can live with.
You see, I’ve been having problems with my left Achilles, and while the sensible course of action would be to go to Physical Therapy, I don’t really want to know which tedious exercises I should be doing to make things better; I just want to run. And so my alternative solution is to run less frequently — every third day, at the moment.
It’s a bummer to be doing a favorite activity less often, of course. But the decreased frequency comes with an increased appreciation for the runs I do get to take. For the first time in a long time, I regularly think, “Hey, today is a running day!” and feel a genuine buzz from that little realization.
As for Kent, according to the Internet, he still gets out for an occasional race.
May we both still be getting out there, at whatever frequency we can handle, in another 18 years.
My Track Record 
Leave a comment