End of Season Blues

“What a drag it is getting old.”
Rolling Stones

I went for a long run last Sunday and it hurt all the way. From the very first stride, the hamstring muscles in my left leg protested. I thought to myself that if it got any worse I would turn around. But it never got any worse; it just stayed annoying for the whole three hours. It was one of those nagging injuries that are not serious enough to sideline you but just uncomfortable enough to slow you down and spoil your enjoyment of the run.

Not a flattering way
to view myself

I would normally call such a thing an overuse injury, except that I haven’t been overusing anything. I finished the Muskoka 70.3 a few weeks ago feeling terrific; not even a stiff quadriceps muscle the next day. Then just in the last week, everything seems to have fallen into disrepair, like a used car just past the far side of its warranty.

I am not ready for that just yet. I don’t want to be one of those people you see at races all wrapped up like The Mummy Returns in tensor bandages. I want to keep building up my body, not breaking it down; strengthening it with each workout, not clobbering it. When did all this change direction?

I wanted to get in another couple of long runs because I have gone and entered the Scotiabank Waterfront Marathon which happens two weeks from now. I signed up because a large contingent of my family is also running and I wanted to be part of the crowd (even though we will all be running at different paces and in different spots in the field of thousands and thousands). Also, like the proposed Scarborough Subway line, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

The problem with being an athlete over 60 is that every time an ache or pain crops up you wonder if This Is It: the one you won’t recover from. The one that will sideline you forever. The canary in the mine of your senescence.

There are still things I haven’t done, races I haven’t run, rides I haven’t cycled. I still have epic cardio-vascular capacity and my desire for adventure is greater now than it was when I was in my thirties. I am not ready for the muscles and tendons and joints in my body to start falling apart.

I am not ready to have already climbed the highest mountain I will ever climb.

There’s no question of being able to finish the marathon; I have done so many of them that I know how each kilometre feels in almost any circumstance. I would prefer though to know that my body is onside for the effort, rather than feeling that I have to coax it along like a recalcitrant child at the orthodontist. After the race, I will take a big break and see how much healing I can do.

I have spent most of the week cross-training on my bike, just to keep my heart beating. Tomorrow I’ll head out for a medium-sized run, maybe 16K. On an ordinary day I should be able to do that without even trying hard. After I run I will spend some quality time with my foam roller to see if I can steamroller out the soreness. Then we’ll see how it goes.