It has been said that runners have their best thoughts of the day while out running. Runner and writer
Michael Selman shares his
"Thoughts on Running" with us here at ontherunevents.com.
I swear, I have not aged a day since I started long distance running
back in 1982, at least according to both my mirror and my imagination. I
look in the mirror, and the image that stares back has the exact same
youthful appearance it did all those years ago. Anyone who knows me will
readily agree that I don't act any more mature than I did in my 20's. Most
would even say I've regressed. I delight in that intentional lack of
progress.
I look in my runners logs from years gone by, and know that I can still
beat those fast times of prior years if I just train right, eat right,
sleep right, and have the right course with the right tail wind on the
right day. I just know in my 48 beat per minute heart that my breakthrough
year as a runner is still out there, in my future. And if you tell me to
grow up and start thinking my age, I'll tell you to get lost. I like
believing this way.
Every new year, I wipe the statistical slate clean, and I start
entering my runs in a new log. And shortly before the new year, I get to
add another increment to the number they call my age. It just so happens
that the augmentation I added late last year makes my age end with a five,
and that means I get to compete against a new group of runners with higher
numbers in their age than those I was racing with before. I don't think
that age determines much more than who you are competing against. It
certainly is no excuse for slowing down.
Along with every new year, there is, for me, a renewed determination to
run more miles, and to best my race times from the previous year. In 2000,
I actually succeeded in that goal for every distance I raced, with the
exception of the ½ marathon. Part of that is because 1999 was not a
particularly stellar running year. My goal for 2001 will be the same, and
again, I have a chance, because this past year, although an improvement
over 1999, I still fell short of my fullest potential. I figure if I can
succeed again, and continue the upward spiral for each of the next 20
years, those lifetime PR's will be within my reach by the time I retire.
There are 60-year-old men running sub 20 5K's all the time. I want to be
like them. The fact that I've run one sub 20 in my life, years and years
ago, and that these speedsters were running 16 minute 5K's at my age
shouldn't make a difference, right?
Mirrors don't tell the future, or the past, but with a vivid
imagination, they tell lies about the present. They only capture the
moment of your gaze, in reverse. The mirror is who you are at any given
moment. We age so gradually that, from one day to the next, we can't place
our finger on when exactly getting older happens. As runners, some of us
are guilty of believing we can buck the trend, and stop the process
altogether: maybe even reverse it. Somehow, even among fellow runners, I
sometimes think that I am the one will stay speedy while all my age group
competition slows to a crawl. Aging and its effects might be for some
people, but not for me.
I have raced through the entire 40-44 year age group here in Georgia. I
have followed my own progress, as well as that of many others in my age
group, with a great deal of interest over the last five years. Very few
veteran runners my age have gotten any faster during that time. Most have
gotten slower, and some have totally dropped out of the picture. Yet
others have disappeared for a while, and then returned, significantly
slower than before. It seems so ironic how the years seem to fly by so
much quicker, but our race times get slower. I look at my peers' times and
think to myself that I could be beating most of them in races by now,
except for one minor detail. I've gotten slower too. But in my case, I've
got a series of excuses as to why I've slowed, and the justifications as
to why some day in the future, I will be faster than all of them.
I know, I know. This way of thinking is probably something I have in
common with many other runners. Maybe, some day, I'll have to accept the
fact that I can't stop getting older, and I can't stop the reminders my
body and the finish line clock keep giving me. Some day, I may settle for
being content in just holding steady from one year to the next. In the big
picture, even that is a virtual improvement. But although I may be getting
closer to that point, I'm not quite there yet. I still plan to break 22
minutes for 5K this year, even though I didn't do it once last year, or
the year before that, or the year before that.
What is it that my mind refuses to process when the mirror stares back?
I must be how old I am. After all, when I was born, Eisenhower was
president, and he was re-elected to another term after that. I must look
how old I am. Surely people don't think my daughter is my sister when we
are seen together. I didn't learn about the John Kennedy assassination in
history class like she did. I was sent home from school early that day,
during history class. My teacher could work no more.
So, here I am, 45 years old, and feeling like I'm still 26, as I was
when I started long distance running. And I continue to imagine I still
look the same, too. I just refuse to accept my aging age quite yet. If I
was a coin my age, I would be worth many time my face value today. But I
am me, and can't even gauge my own face value. My face looks the same to
me as it did way back then.
If all goes according to plan, the mirror will continue to lie, and I
will continue to dream. This year may be my breakthrough year, when I
suddenly run effortlessly to age group victories, and I finally realize my
potential. And if it doesn't happen this year, that's okay too, because I
still have my whole lifetime ahead of me. Just don't wake me up.
The Roads Scholar, Michael Selman runs and writes in Atlanta GA. He
would love to hear from you. Please e-mail him at TheRoadsScholar@aol.com
with any questions or comments.
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