40 to 50

As decades go, the last one was pretty good for me.

When I turned 40, I would say that my goals and my training were pretty random. Although I was running ok in road races, I wasn't really learning anything, and my enthusiasm for the sport was waning. I was in the midst of a flirtation with orienteering, which probably indicated a certain lack of direction. Work was very demanding, my kids were both teenagers, and athletically I was in a rut. You might think that I was excited to start competing against other 40-year-olds, but actually, that wasn't much of a motivating factor for me. I didn't see myself in a separate category from the other younger runners around me, and as for older runners... well, I really didn't know what to think about those 50- and 60-year-olds, except to be mildly impressed that they were out there at all...

I didn't run much track when I was 40. In fact, I hadn't run much track for several years. On a whim, I entered a masters track meet in January and ran something like 4:47 for the mile. That motivated me to train a little bit for the National Indoor meet in March, and I brought my time down to 4:36, and finished something like 8th in a relatively weak field. Not very impressive, but it turned out to be the start of a decade-long renaissance in my desire to run short, fast races.

The best thing that happened to me in my 40's was coaching. Specifically, I started working at Newton North with Jim Blackburn -- first as a volunteer, and then as an assistant coach. It's hard to sum up in a few words how much this has meant to me, but the experience was gratifying on many levels: being able to work with unbelievable athletes and a first-rate coach, being challenged everyday to think and learn and question my assumptions, being part of the accomplishments of several great teams, and finally discovering that I had something important to give back to the sport. Surprisingly, it also generated a tremendous desire to improve as a runner. I don't just mean that I wanted to run faster times... I mean that I wanted to train and compete at a higher mental level. I knew that my body couldn't do the same kind of workouts it had done 10-15 years earlier, but I found that my mind could play a greater role in my training and racing.

In 2003, I accomplished a few things that I would never have thought possible. Oh no, I didn't discover "the secret," and I can't point to any one workout or training technique. I would describe it instead as a process in which I learned to accept that my results were the outcome of my commitment. This realization caused me to train with a different set of expectations of myself. When the results came, I could see them as the outcome of a long, hard, but ultimately satisfying process. That year brought peak experiences that I will remember forever.

I guess I have to mention that I did, in fact, get slower at a fairly steady rate. When I started coaching, it was a pleasant easy run to go out and do distance with my athletes. I also had the speed and endurance to enforce the "no racing on distance days" rule. Within a couple of years, my easy runs with the team were a lot more challenging, and I couldn't enforce anything. Nowadays, I simply can't keep up on most runs. One part of me feels like a charity case, and I find myself apologizing for being slow. Another part of me has come to accept it, and even to use my slowness as a teaching point about the nature of speed and endurance. I have also learned that you can't afford to ever abandon speed. You always have to include it somewhere in your training, even when you start receiving applications to join AARP.

As I start out in my new age group, I have no idea what the next several years will bring. I no longer feel compelled to project my current times forward. I know the general direction that they are heading, but from month-to-month, I can still be surprised and pleased to see a little progress here and there.

The biggest and most important change wrought by all the running, coaching, writing, and talking in the last ten years, is that this sport has become a story about shared work, shared aspirations, and shared achievements. It used to be a solitary pursuit, and I doubted that anyone else would ever understand. What a difference now, to feel surrounded and supported by a community of people who share this passion. It makes me feel tremendously fortunate every day.