Just doing it. What a stupid idea! Or is it?
When I first got into running on a regular basis, I was in mid-30s and I badly needed a regular physical activity. A few years of sitting at a desk and tapping away at a keyboard had made me soft, something I naively never expected to happen. If I wanted to get back into shape and keep some semblance of my formerly hot bod, I had to get it in gear.
Early on I recognized that the same competitive spirit that had made me a good athlete could work against me as a runner. How so? Suffice it to say that it's hard to get out to the track or trail or roadway the first time . . . keeping it up is even harder. And when I saw that my times as a not-so-svelte-anymore 30-something dad were embarrassingly slow, well, that's about all it took for me to become a former runner. For the first time, anyways.
I actually went through that dance a few times, getting back out to the trail, getting disappointed and depressed and then giving it up.
After a while I figured out that one solution was to take the pressure off of myself. I decided then and there that a successful run was getting my ass out the door and taking one stride. Anything on top of that was gravy. And you know what? It worked. I forgot about the Olympics and was finally happy to just be running.
When I moved out to Texas I started running with a few friends, one of whom was training for a marathon--she did it. Eventually I hooked up with a group, Austin Fit (part of USA Fit), which provides a very cool, pretty non-competitive training resource for people here in town. And surprise, surprise, I loved it. I liked the people, the camaraderie, the structure. I was hooked. And thanks to the training I got, I completed my first marathon last February, in a time I was and am pretty proud of.
But the question keeps coming up: should I be faster?
Well, the little devil side of me says, "yes!" The smart, conservative running is lifetime activity side says, "maybe, but let's be careful about how we pursue this."
The danger of course is, that I'll push myself, not achieve my goals, feel bad about and stop running.
Because I know I can be faster. Probably a lot faster. At least that's what I think. But the risk of pushing for that extra speed is not getting there and being bummed about it, too bummed. Or worse yet, turning running into something that's so hard it isn't really fun any more. What's the point of that?
Unfortunately, none of the Nike ads I've seen seem to give me any help at all with this dilemma. And you know what, if they want to keep selling shoes to me, and to people like me, maybe they should think about it a little.
Just do it? The real question, I guess, is how to do it. Wish I knew.
Early on I recognized that the same competitive spirit that had made me a good athlete could work against me as a runner. How so? Suffice it to say that it's hard to get out to the track or trail or roadway the first time . . . keeping it up is even harder. And when I saw that my times as a not-so-svelte-anymore 30-something dad were embarrassingly slow, well, that's about all it took for me to become a former runner. For the first time, anyways.
I actually went through that dance a few times, getting back out to the trail, getting disappointed and depressed and then giving it up.
After a while I figured out that one solution was to take the pressure off of myself. I decided then and there that a successful run was getting my ass out the door and taking one stride. Anything on top of that was gravy. And you know what? It worked. I forgot about the Olympics and was finally happy to just be running.
When I moved out to Texas I started running with a few friends, one of whom was training for a marathon--she did it. Eventually I hooked up with a group, Austin Fit (part of USA Fit), which provides a very cool, pretty non-competitive training resource for people here in town. And surprise, surprise, I loved it. I liked the people, the camaraderie, the structure. I was hooked. And thanks to the training I got, I completed my first marathon last February, in a time I was and am pretty proud of.
But the question keeps coming up: should I be faster?
Well, the little devil side of me says, "yes!" The smart, conservative running is lifetime activity side says, "maybe, but let's be careful about how we pursue this."
The danger of course is, that I'll push myself, not achieve my goals, feel bad about and stop running.
Because I know I can be faster. Probably a lot faster. At least that's what I think. But the risk of pushing for that extra speed is not getting there and being bummed about it, too bummed. Or worse yet, turning running into something that's so hard it isn't really fun any more. What's the point of that?
Unfortunately, none of the Nike ads I've seen seem to give me any help at all with this dilemma. And you know what, if they want to keep selling shoes to me, and to people like me, maybe they should think about it a little.
Just do it? The real question, I guess, is how to do it. Wish I knew.
posted by Robert Goyer at
5:36 PM
