Time and PR Envy: The Late Bloomer Blues

I think I've got the Late Bloomer Blues.

I've taken to reading other runners' blogs on this and other blog sites. This activity is usually accompanied by the same trio of emotions: 1) happiness at finding running blogs written by women my age; 2) curiosity about them, their races, where they live, how long they've been running, and their times; and 3) inevitably, envy. Yes, pure unadulterated times envy.

I crave info about other runners. I read runners' blogs frequently (obsessively? maybe, but I'm on vacation this summer - I can). I check the dates (anything new since last week?), the races they've run, links they like, and their times. Always their times. And I guess that's one of the traits that makes me a runner now. Trying to see where I fit in to this newest of worlds into which I've thrust myself.

I love learning new skills, love trying something new and seeing if I can master it or at least see how good I can get at it. In my lifetime, I've tried some pretty interesting activities and got pretty good at them. Like the time I took a knitting class and learned how to knit a child's hooded cable knit sweater. I knitted one for my kids when they were little for much of their early childhood, along with hats, scarves, and slippers. Every autumn I made a different color cable knit hooded sweater for both of them to start the new school year, until they reached the age when they rightfully refused to wear another one. I learned cake decorating, and learned to make elaborate birthday and holiday cakes for them; I even opened a cake decorating business running it out of my kitchen (a sure recipe for disaster, particularly during an especially dreadful summer heat wave). I learned to do crewel embroidery, photography, sewing (lots of cafe curtains, kids pajamas, and of course Halloween costumes), canning, gardening, and jelly making. I can make a fairly memorable blueberry pie too. And when I felt like I'd mastered the activity, I left it on my way to learn something else.

I recently thought of these past efforts while on my "easy run" this morning. I decided that I love running. I probably love running more than any of the previous activities I learned to do so many years ago. This is the first activity I've tried that engages my body and my mind at the same time. I can run anytime I want. I can run alone or with a friend. I can run on my treadmill or in my neighborhood or along the canal road. All I needed was a good pair of shoes, microfiber socks, a couple running shorts & shirts, a good bra, and I was good to go. I love it all. I like that my friends are shaking their heads at this new "running thing" I'm doing. I enjoy hearing my friends who run tell me they're amazed that after only 7 months of running, I have the guts (or insanity) to try to run Falmouth. I love that my family are proud of me, and that my son was surprised that I could not only run decently, but write about it too. And I love that I've lost some weight on my way to that "runner's body" I've been promised. I've taken three inches off and 2 dress sizes down; this may not seem like much, but girls & women alike know what that means. Heaven. So why the blues?

Because try as I might, I'm not getting better run times. My 5K is still 45 min. Yes I'm running 3 enormous hills with every neighborhood run; yes I ran up Killer-manjaro today in 2 minutes (my own PR); yep, the heat & humidity slow my time as predicted. I'm 63 and I just started running 01/01/09. I tried core strengthening exercises with a personal trainer, joined a gym for weight training, even got a Boot Camp DVD (during which I tweaked my cranky knee again.) I've developed endurance but haven't improved my speed. And that's when my time-envy comes in. Runners on their blogs can actually run a 5K in under 30 minutes - that's less than a 10 minute mile. Try running a mile in 10 minutes; it's pretty hard to do. Many runners report 5K PRs of 25 minutes and under. They even post photos of themselves on their blogs - running with great form in a 10K or rock&roll marathon somewhere with gorgeous scenery in the background, and smiling, always smiling. Good for them I tell myself. How wonderful for them and I really mean it. I've noticed that runners seem to naturally support one another when we see another runner on a route - thumbs up and go for it! we say to each other. I'm just green with envy. Will I ever do better than a 15 minute mile? Sometimes on a flat stretch along the Cape Cod Canal road, I manage to eke out a 14:30 mile, but that's the first mile. The second, third, fourth etc. miles are usually back to 15 min. each.

So I'm trying to run without thinking about my time. I'm trying to focus on my stride, my pace, my breathing, my form, and enjoy the process. When I run, I'm learning that time and PR isn't all it's cracked up to be. My son says we're a family of late bloomers. He's usually right about these matters. I may be a late bloomer, but at least I'm blooming at something, so I guess for now, that'll be have to be good enough for me.

Running "Killer-manjaro"

Our neighborhood terrain is unusual for Cape Cod. A little topography lesson might be in order first. Cape Cod is a peninsula jutting out into the Atlantic ocean from the southeastern part of Massachusetts much like an arm bended at the elbow. The western-most area of Cape Cod, known to Cape Codders as the "Upper Cape" includes something we refer to as the "holly ridge". This is a series of hills and prominences that centuries ago were covered by forests of the American holly. The remainder of Cape Cod is at sea level and is known for beautiful beaches and harbors. Our neighborhood sits right on what was once the holly ridge. There is literally one flat road in the entire neighborhood; every other street, all 14, were built on hills. This makes for a very challenging run.

There are four significant hills in this holly ridge neighborhood. I've named the biggest hill "Killer-manjaro". "Killer-manjaro" or "KMJ" has a 13 ft gain; its elevation above sea level is 39.6 feet. But here's why it's killer-force: it goes from 26 ft above sea level at its base to 39.6 ft at its peak. Running up this hill is more than challenging; it takes everything I have to reach the top. The other 3 major hills on my neighborhood run are smaller but no less challenging, especially running them after I've scaled Killer-manjaro.

I've plotted out a 13.1 mile route around the neighborhood, with each mile completed noted on the cheat sheet I carry in the pocket of my Nike running shorts. I know when I've run each mile. By mile 2 I've run up 2 moderate hills; at 2.6 miles, I arrive at KMJ. When I first started running outdoors this winter, I walked up KMJ, calves burning, lungs about to burst, heart pounding. I tried running it fast, slow, sprinting, walking - it didn't matter. I could not get up that blasted hill without feeling like I was dead on arrival.

My family has often referred to me as the family "book nerd". When in doubt, or when a problem is encountered, I taught my children to get a book and figure it out. So I bought more running books and I read running websites and running blogs (the latter especially useful for motivation). I learned that running hills ("hill work") is considered the best training there is for speed and endurance. If you can run up a hill, run it effortlessly with good form, without cardiac arrest, then running on a flat plane should be a piece of cake, so to speak (http://www.runnersworld.com/video). I began to incorporate hill work into my runs this summer.

I run with my friend Jan who is new to running outdoors but who now runs with me at the ungodly hour of 6am most running days. (BTW: 6am on Cape Cod is perhaps the most beautiful time of the day.) Her legs are stronger than mine, and she's been running longer and can run faster than I'll probably ever be able to run. Jan typically runs along side me up KMJ, giving me pep talks which keep me focused on my continued climb upwards. We tell each other to remember our form: head up, chest out, back straight, no slouching! Run after run after run, we'd get to KMJ and ask each other, "are you ready?" "Let's go!"

Fast forward to this week. Jan was at an appointment the other day, so I was on my own. I ran up KMJ without thinking about it; it was there and it was part of my running plan for the day. It wasn't until I was on my way down that I suddenly realized I'd run up KMJ seemingly effortlessly. Not fast, certainly not with any PR in mind. My legs are stronger now. My calves have "definition". I'm no longer out of breath when I tackle KMJ.

It was a day to remember: I ran up KMJ and never gave it a thought. I wish Jan had been there to experience it with me. But we're scheduled for another 6am run tomorrow and I can't wait to show her how I conquered KMJ. It's the little things in life , as they say. For me, conquering Killer-manjaro was huge and sweet!

Running for my Everything

This poem by Emily Dickinson went through my mind this morning as I ran:

"Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all".

I ran for my Everything today.