Still the Best Part of My Day

Age may slow our pace, but it doesn’t change the joy we can experience on a run.

T L Beverly

It's a foggy Sunday afternoon, and I head out for a long run. My legs quickly tell me they have recovered from a speed workout three days ago and are feeling the resulting pop and power that makes doing speed so worthwhile. As they warm up, I levitate—my feet barely touching the ground, my mind freed from the world of work, politics and responsibilities. I cruise down seldom-traveled back roads, feeling stronger every mile. More than 13 miles later I arrive home, tired and renewed.

It is a feeling I've known and cherished for more than 35 years, one that has remained constant despite all the changes in my life and my body. Running still brings joy like little else; it is still the best part of my day.

True, my pace is now a minute per mile slower than a similar effort 20 years ago; my 400m repeats are fewer and my recovery periods longer than they used to be. I could get depressed by this, and I have fallen into that hole at times. Yet on most days, I realize that the feelings of growing strength, smooth competence, escape, and connection with the road and sky have almost nothing to do with measured speed and distance. Those feelings stem from effort applied over time, the same today as they did in 1977.

Races increasingly highlight my waning abilities as I slip farther back into the pack each year. But even here, the experience remains untarnished. I feel that familiar satisfaction of conquering the first panic of unfamiliar effort, of realizing I can keep pushing even when it gets hard, of reducing the world to my breathing and the signals coming from my legs. Learning to accept and adapt to the changes of age while appreciating the joys that remain are key challenges in order to keep moving through the age groups.

But masters aren't the only ones who need perspective. I could always have gotten depressed by focusing on those faster than me and my inability to catch them. We run with what we are given and learn to cherish being and becoming better—or else we quickly despair, regardless of our age or ability.

I once sat on a beach watching surfers in Southern California and decided they are of the same breed as lifetime running addicts. This would no doubt surprise those who see running as all discipline and dedication, heart rates and split times, effort and results--a far cry from the simple joy of riding waves. But those who have experienced a run like mine on that foggy Sunday know that, like surfers, while we keep refining our skills to take on more powerful rides, we keep swimming into the sea because we love the ride itself. Regardless of how we compare, every time we get up and feel the power surging beneath us, it is worthwhile.

Jonathan Beverly, Editor-in-Chief

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