Yep.
I ran a race on July 4th but it wasn’t the Peachtree road race in Atlanta, Ga. Last year my husband and I swore we’d never participate in that broiler-oven death march again … especially now that we’re slow. I used to race for prize money (hell, I even WON Peachtree once) but now I’m happy to win the coveted top-25,000 tee-shirt [not really, but that makes a better story]. The race I did run on Independence Day was called the 4 on the Fourth. Local. No pressure. Shoe store gift certificates for awards. I needed a new jog bra so I signed up.
At about the half-way point, a young gal passed me with ease … as did all the local old guys I used to duke it out with in most of the area races. I smacked my former nemesis on the butt as he cruised by and said, “Go get Hinton!” [ha ... he'd never catch the old man ... not in this lifetime anyway]. I could see him weaving his way through the front runners, leaving me in his wake. WAY back in his wake. That’s okay, I thought, I’m still holding 6:00 pace - through 2 miles - then, ugh, I slipped to 6:30 … then, what the?!, the girl in front suddenly stopped running. She stepped to the side of the course, started walking, then took a glance back at me before deciding to resume.
What did she see in my eyes, in my gait, that told her to carry on? What DIDN’T she see, rather? In my younger, swifter days (my salad days, if you will) I would have siezed the opportunity to capitalize on that girl’s weakness. I would have gone for the jugular. I would have pounced on the pace with the eye of the tiger :).
But today, I was no threat. When she glanced back she saw no savage eye of the tiger. Instead, I gave her one of those “what’s up?” or “’sup?” jock nods that everyone does in the hall at highschool. “It’s all yours,” my nod said. I was content to ride the nearly-jogging wave all the way to the finish … at least I was until Mr. Nemesis came up to me afterward and said, “You’re really slow now.”
Yep.
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Hooray, hooray, it’s back today! Getting back from Atlanta, I see that one of my new favorite web destinations is back! The weather there was incredible, low humidity and low 70’s at 8:30 in the morning. Purrrfect for running. I know a little girl who is developing the eye of the tiger…She may need an older tiger to bring it out however and show her how to use it.
Comment by Jimmy B. — 7/10/2006 @ 4:41 pm
I got my first shock when Dave Couper mentioned a time that you ran in a race that was slower than I had run in a similar race - not TOO awfully long ago. That doesn’t mean that you were running hard that day; it just means that it had been possible for me to beat you on a particular day. Maybe. The phrase “Lo, how the mighty have fallen” comes to mind.
But the important thing, I think, isn’t that we lose some competitiveness - after all, ALL of that is vanity, in the long run. The important thing is that we become willing to help those who are going to pass us by. That is our greatest gift - to the world, and to ourselves, by helping to reduce the swelling of our own egos.
Comment by Fat Charlie the Archangel — 7/10/2006 @ 5:17 pm
Don’t know how many other people you smacked on the butt. Though you smacked me, I wouldn’t describe how I went by as “cruising”. As I said when I went by, if I could catch you so early I must have started too fast. Though the first half was faster than last year, I was slower overall. I happened to catch “Big Bird” in the final mile, but he’s young and fast and so he managed to pull ahead again on the track. Fat Charlie, it is not so much “Lo, how the mighty have fallen” as “Age catches up with all of us.” Some of us may occasionally be able to beat Joan now, but she is still mighty to us. She’s far from being a has-been yet. Even when she becomes one, that’s better than a never-were, which is what most of us are. And she’s always willing to help those of us who pass by, even if it is by smacking us on the butt.
D.
Comment by Mr. Nemesis — 7/10/2006 @ 7:03 pm
All that talent going to waste! What a shame…or it would be if you sounded unhappy. It sounds like you’re comfortable with running like a “normal” person. Meantime, when/if the fire reignites (like when your daughters want to know more about running), the “boys” better look out.
Comment by Scooter — 7/11/2006 @ 4:52 am
Well, if I may, I do have an excuse for running so slowly. Or, as my British coach, Harry Wilson, used to say, “There is reason for your poor performance; don’t give me excuses.” The reason I ran slow is two-fold. One, my neighbor just died of a heart attack (a few days before the 4th) after running in the heat. He was only 47, had two kids (one my Rosie’s age; the other on my middle schooler’s XC team) and was way too wonderful to leave this earth so soon. When that familiar race discomfort hit, my mother’s brain could only warn, “Careful. Careful.”
My second reason/excuse is that I am training for the 4 X 800m Master’s Nationals which means all my available fast twitch muscles are being recruited to break 2:20 on the anchor leg. My high school PR is 2:18 and it would be pretty cool to run close to that 26 years later!
Comment by Joan — 7/11/2006 @ 8:41 am