The Price I'm Willing to Pay

Welcome to "Running With Rick"!  

I'm a competitive runner. Not long ago, a friend told me that training as I do means living on the edge of an injury.

That remark carried greater significance as I'm also 64-years-old and recovering from a quad injury kept me out of my Nikes for far more days than I like.  Added to that, I've dealt with nagging issues regarding my IT band and pectineus over most of this calendar year. On a side note, my training typically consists of four easy days per week with one day of speedwork and to non-running days.

About the same time as my friend made that remark, my wife asked if I really needed to engage in speedwork so that I can compete in races.  She pointed out that we have a number of friends who simply show up to races and enjoy being part of the event. 

I couldn’t deny the logic in her comments.  Yet my response was almost immediate.  With zero disrespect intended towards anyone else, I need to compete.  Even if it means dealing with injuries.

What’s Wrong With Me?

The reason for my response goes back several decades. I started running in 1974, competing in cross country and track through high school and college.  Those remarkable years largely shaped my life going forward.

However, during my final seasons in college, there were moments when I wondered what it would be like to no longer devote so many afternoons and mornings to running and those intense workouts?  How would it feel to participate in a race without all the pressure to have a strong performance?  How much more enjoyable would it be if I were able to run a race at a comfortable, non-competitive pace where I could talk with other runners?

Fueled by a hot mocha, I'm ready to tackle this blog!

Then Life Happened

I got my wish after my final track meet in May 1983. Whether I liked it or not, the adult world took over. Between teaching and a career change, as well as frequent moves, running and fitness moved to the back burner in my life.

Outside of a period in my early thirties when I ran frequently enough to be in decent shape for races, my participation was more "miss" than "hit." The enthusiasm for races just wasn't there for me. Later, as I moved into my late-thirties and forties, that lack of interest became something else.

A Sense of Shame

I'd always considered myself a decent runner. Certainly nowhere near elite. But having been able to compete at the small college level meant that I wasn't bad either. That realization started gnawing at me as I found myself bumbling through various races. I knew my best days were behind me. That's part of getting older. But to be nowhere near competitive in even a small race, frankly, left me feeling ashamed.

That led to more and more years passing between races. The longest gap being seven years - 2010 to 2017. When I showed up for a 10K that changed my life.

The Missing Piece

Without going too deeply into the weeds, I'd gotten myself into better shape by 2017.  Enough that a friend suggested a 10K in Ames, Iowa.  What the hell, I thought.  It was a small race on a beautiful October morning.  I knew my conditioning would allow me to comfortably survive the distance.

A souvenir from last April's trip to Eugene!

But instead of taking in the scenic neighborhoods not far from Iowa State, I felt myself going faster than my normal morning runs. I found myself passing other runners as my pace continued to increase. There was an undeniable excitement ignited inside me that I hadn't felt in decades. One that continued pushing me. Also returning for the first time in far too long was that inevitable ache in my legs and gut as my body acknowledged the demands I was making of it.  In other words, I felt those same pains that I’d endured decades earlier and I realized just how much I missed every second of it!

It was as if I’d found a missing piece of myself.

Don’t Hate Me Because I’m Competitive

I came away with a small medal for winning my age group on that day.  As good as it felt to accomplish that, none of it compared with the experience of actually competing in a race for the first time in decades.  It proved an addictive sensation. Within less than a year, I’d participated in at least ten other races and began working with a running coach.

While my wife’s question presents a practical option, it’s just one that will never work for me.  Although I'll never turn down a medal or plaque, reality for me is that each race represents a unique challenge and opportunity for me to push myself to achieve my best on that particular day.  It’s about training to get me there.  It’s about strategizing and planning how to be successful in that particular race.  It’s about the butterflies gnawing at me beforehand.  It’s about knowing that no matter what, there will be time in the pain cave.  Ultimately, it's about knowing that when all is said and done, I gave that particular race my best effort.  The satisfaction that comes with that is why I compete.  

All of this because I decided to compete in that 10K in 2017.

The Price I’m Willing to Pay

Despite having an excellent running coach, working with both a physical therapist and massage therapist, there will be injuries in my future.  It’s simply a part of life.

And one that I am willing to accept if it also means I’m able to experience that satisfaction I find in racing.  

Have no doubt that I fully respect the reasons everyone has for running and how each of us approaches races.  Part of me wishes I had enjoyed running in a more relaxed manner over those years.  But if I’m being honest with myself, that’s not me.  I can’t do this any other way. I also hope to continue doing this as absolutely long as possible.

And that’s also why I’m thankful for every day that I’m able to be out there running.

As I said, each of us do this for reasons of our own.  I’ve shared my thoughts.  I would like to know yours.  Feel free to share them in the comments.  My thanks for reading "Running With Rick!"