Running

Call it a mid-life crisis, but recently I decided to take up running seriously for the first time in my life. I've run before, on and off, but never more than once or twice a week. Still, I like it when I do it, and I've toyed with the idea of someday actually training for something.

I live in Boston, so there is always, of course, a big hairy elephant in the room. But there is really no single thing I can think of that I would want to do for what, realistically, would be no less than four hours. And so, I've always thought more toward a nice half-marathon.

Well, two months ago, a friend called my bluff and gave me a choice of three local races in October. Fear of actually doing one of them has kept me running consistently ever since.

I've built up to three to four days a week of increasing speed and distance. I was reasonably in shape to begin with — that is to say for a semi-athletic-yet-out-of-shape guy who, previously, had only been playing hockey once a week and running once every other week. OK, so now I'm actually in shape again. But 13.1 miles is nothing to sneeze at.

I've never really run more than 10k (6.2 miles) at a time. Also, even at 40, I'm not real patient. I'm not really willing to run a painfully slow pace that I can keep up all day. I tend to be more a charge-out-in-a-blaze-of-glory-and-see-how-long-I-can-maintain-it kind of guy.

Eight years ago, I ran a great 10k race. It was my first organized road race, with a decent-sized field. I went with my wife and mother-in-law, who were also running. But we got separated prior to the start, and what I didn't quite realize, as I jockeyed my way toward the front before the gun, was that — and this will be absurdly obvious to anyone who runs seriously — they stage folks beforehand according to their projected pace. Needless to say, I was about 30 feet behind the Kenyans with no hope in hell of running a mile pace even remotely within two to three minutes of theirs. Also needless to say, I started out blazingly fast, mostly in a desperate effort to not be trampled by the stampeding horde.

I ran my first mile in something crazy fast (for me) — 7:10, if I remember right — before settling into a more sustainable rhythm. But I was already doing the math in my head, and I knew I had a real chance of pretty much shattering the goal I had set for myself. And I did, winding up averaging 8:30 miles and finishing in 52:45.

It was a bit of a fluke, but a cool discovery in finding the edges of my limits, based on a beginner's mistake at the start, and race-day adrenaline.

But more than twice that distance? It's something that gives me pause. My goal would be to finish a half marathon, but it would also be to do so in two hours (a ~9:00/mile pace).

My lungs are in good shape; I've never smoked, and not much within reason gets my breathing too hard. But my legs are another story. I'm in hockey shape (I'd much rather skate the 13.1 miles), but I'm learning that running consistently is really demanding on the backs of your legs — the calves and hamstrings, and that if I don't in turn actually stretch my hamstrings after running, I'll feel it (the old hockey injury, that is) in my back.

Most normal people would go about this sudden-onset running thing by getting a physical, diligently researching training methods, and setting a schedule. I began, of course, by taking a hard look at my iPod, and deciding that I would need to spend some time scientifically crafting several training playlists. I chose songs with unchanging tempo and a steady backbeat that I could use as a kind of cadence. Next, I divided up those songs among playlists, based on the pace I wanted to run: slower 10-minute miles, 9-minute miles, and faster sub-9s. THEN, I researched training schedules.

Of course — truth be told, and despite the fact that my greatest distance running fears are of chafing and of shitting myself — I have spent far more time on the iPod playlists than I have reading up on the latest advice for novice runners.

But, hell, the title of this post is "Running," not "Training." Maybe that's me fooling myself; maybe I really haven't made up my mind yet about racing. As a mid-life crisis activity though, running is way cheaper, and so far, despite the chafing (I never really thought of male nipples much until a sweat-soaked shirt rubbed one of mine raw) has caused me less pain than any mid-life crisis hobby most guys would pursue.

And if it turns out to be a lifestyle choice based on a fear bigger than that of running a long race — that of growing old too quickly (OK, let's call a spade a spade: death) — then maybe that fear will keep me running for even longer than it would if I were training for the experience of a singular distance race.

In either case, wish me luck.

Comments

[Becky]

Playlists, please, Mr. Runner Man.

Signed,
Off the Running Wagon, in Need of a Playlist to Scurry Back

[BK]

<9 Playlist:

The Clash - Listen
Joe Strummer - Coma Girl
Ramones - Blitzkrieg Bop
Elvis Presley v. JXL - A Little Less Conversation
Skeewiff - Man of Constant Sorrow
Rolling Stones - Sympathy for the Devil
Modern Lovers - Roadrunner
The Pogues - Streams of Whiskey
Husker Du - Celebrated Summer
The Briefs - Orange Alert
Go Go's - Skidmarks on My Heart
Minor Threat - Minor Threat
Rolling Stones - Street Fighting Man
Ramones - Bonzo Goes to Bitburg
Stiff Little Fingers - Go for It
Steve Earle - Texas Eagle
The Grid - Swamp Thing
The Go-Betweens - Lee Remick
Josie Cotton - Johnny Are You Queer
Joan Jett - Bad Reputation
Rancid - Lady Liberty
Rancid - Roots Radicals
Rancid - St. Mary
Stiff Little Fingers - Strummerville
Stiff Little Fingers - Law and Order
Andrew WK - Girls Own Love
Kid Dynamite - Wrist Rocket
Superchunk - Hyper Enough
Cheap Trick - Surrender
The Replacements - Hold My Life

[Becky]

danke schoen