Running again

Not one of us thought this pandemic would happen. Not one of us had it in our foresights that there would be this novel coronavirus that would take the world and humanity in its frightening clutches. It did and all our plans were waylaid.

I was looking ahead to running a marathon again this December and maybe a half before that. But this was not to be. The pandemic happened and the restrictions on movement came with the varying degrees of quarantine imposed by the government. Simply put, no running for me for close to two months.

The last enrty on the notebook I used as a running log was dated March 25 for a 39-minute 5k. By then I had run a total of 392 kilometers from January 2.

When it was allowed again, I went back to running short distances at slow pace: 13 runs in May, 24 in June with 8k as the longest, 22 in July with a couple of 10k's. August had me logging a total of 93 kilometers (20 runs in all for the month) and my tally for September: 130 kilometers over 21 runs. 

This isn't much I suppose by other runners' reckoning. At 64, closing in on 65, this is perhaps the best I can do following the lockdowns. They are much slower, much shorter, than the ones my younger self logged a number of years ago. But I keep at it, running, because I enjoy it in the weird and seemingly crazy manner runners do. It is as simple as putting one foot in front of the other but difficult and demanding yet very rewarding in the end. As they say: "It is something only those few know. Those who put themselves through pain , but deep down know how good it feels." 

For now, I look forward to another month of runs, and perhaps additional mileage? We'll see.

2019

2019 for me, running wise, was pretty much summed up in this note:

I am running after my old self and I'm apparently having trouble catching up. That frustrates me somehow. I am older by several  years and slower by a good number of minutes than the best running me by far. I am hoping, against hope perhaps, I can still catch up even only for a bit.
 
This is what I have come to realize, and somehow, a little begrudgingly, accepted:

Running in your senior years is challenging, I discovered, even if you have done it -- running regularly -- for decades. Age has a way of catching up with you. You easily run short of breath at the slightest attempt to pick up speed and hold it for a few hundred meters or so. You wish your body could do what you did 10 years ago, but it doesn't respond in the same way it did then. And there are the little aches and pains that need more time to heal than before. Recovery seems to take a little bit more time.

But still being able to do it, to run, is surely a blessing and a gift. It is undoubtedly still an activity that I get a "high" from and enjoy. It is especially so when singular moments of brilliance illuminate your ageing soul and fill it with gladness for what you have just done. Like this particular run, for example:

I was at the last kilometer of my usual weekend 10k one Saturday when a 30ish guy ran beside me and tried to go past. I picked up the pace and stayed with him for a bit before going ahead. He was a good distance behind when I made the turn for home.

My time for that last kilometer was 5:15.45. Not blazing for some, but it was for me. I haven't run that fast in a while for a kilometer. The fact that it was on a downhill also helped. It had me gasping for breath, but it also had me beaming with a smile inside.

I wonder if there could be more days and more fast kilometers like that ahead for me.

So, being the crazy, stubborn old dog that I am, I guess it would still be pretty much the same this year. Me running, and trying to catch a bit, even just a bit, of my old self  and keeping my fingers crossed there would be more of those moments of brilliance. Because I do not think it is time to stop and bid running adieu just yet.

No, not just yet.


P.S. As of this post, I have logged 164 kilometers since the start of the 2020. I'm elated by that.