From Zero to Sixty-Gone in a Flash

From Zero to Sixty-Gone in a Flash

Runner’s sometimes err in the assumption that our language is universal.  But the fact is that many runners-even those who have been around for a while- may laugh at the term Fartlek, and a reference to LSD may conjure up thoughts of Timothy Leary.  Let me start with a little running terminology as a starting point.

As a runner ages, we get to use fancy titles to identify our age division.  The terminology may vary regionally, but in the Atlanta area, where I live, they go like this:

·         Masters division-40 and over

·         Grand Masters division-50 and over

·         Senior Masters division- 60 and over

Runners don’t mind talking about their age.  In fact, many wear their advancing years as a badge of honor, and as they move ever closer to a new age division, they embrace their advancing years and become laser-focused on their training.

I remember feeling that way when I turned 39, and I was able to round into pretty good shape when I turned 40.  I felt that same way 10 years later when I was on the cusp of being Grand. In fact, I was in the best shape of my life on my 49^th birthday,  and ran my lifetime marathon PR the day after turning 49. But that year didn’t go as planned, and on my 50^th birthday, I was injured, out of shape, going through a divorce, and was severely depressed.  This, plus the sudden realization that my life by the numbers was more than half over, made my half century birthday a very difficult time. 

But eventually, I got back on track, both in my personal life, and with my running, and when I turned 59, my plan to be a Super Senior Strider when I turned 60 started to formulate in my mind.  On my 59^th birthday, I ran 3 miles.  My plan was to have a nice solid year of training leading up to my arrival as a Senior Master runner.  In May of 2014, I had meniscus repair surgery on my left knee, which confined me to mostly walking for the next several months, but by the time I turned 59, I was running fairly well again.  I celebrated my 59^th birthday by running 3 miles in around 30 minutes, and felt that this run was going to be the springboard to a wonderful year of running, with a goal of turning 60 as a competitive Senior Master’s runner. 

The first few months went according to plan.  I slowly increased both my mileage and my speed, and lost the weight I had gained during my time of inactivity.  At the end of February of 2015, I ran the hilly Fast Break 5K race in Atlanta in 27:07 on a course that measured 3.14 miles, and I felt I was on my way to some of my best running times in years. For me, that was a good time, and I knew I was just starting to hit my stride with a lot of room for improvement still ahead.

Fresh off the inspiration of that race, the next day, March 1, 2015 to be exact, I did an 11-mile run on a very hilly course near home at about a 10 minute pace.  I didn’t know it at the time, but that would be my last healthy run in a long, long time.

It started as a pain in one toe, which I started to become aware of the day after that run.  It was not severe enough to stop me from running, but it was solidly there.  For much of March that year, I would run a few days a week, then take a few days off to see if the pain would go away.  It didn’t.  In fact, it seemed to spread, first to other toes in the same foot.  Then, my other foot started feeling the same way, and my feet started swelling, making it painful to even stand or walk.  In addition, the pain started moving into my tendons and up my legs, which felt like they were becoming increasingly weak.  I could not even walk without a pronounced limp.  The frustrating part is when I did run, my runs were very fast, and I didn’t want to lose the fitness, so I continued to run when I knew in my head that I shouldn’t.  Even after 30 years of experience, runners can be pretty stupid.

 Finally, in mid-April of 2015, I had to stop running totally.  My body was rebelling for reasons unknown to me.  Everything was swollen, especially on my left side.  My dream of running Big Sur at the end of the month ended up being a nightmare for the 2^nd year in a row.   The year before, I could not run it because of my torn meniscus, which was surgically repaired the week after the race.  And now, my body felt like it had ages 20 years in a month.  I did try to run 3 miles the day before the race, April 26, 2015, my first run in two weeks, and knew by the end that I was finished in a broader definition of the word.  It was my last run of the year, and the road got much darker from there.  Turning 60 was not going to turn out the way I had hoped.  Not by a long shot.

Next Up:  Doctors Are Not Gods