Last Man Standing

We just returned from the National Senior Games in Cleveland.  My husband participated in the 5K and 10K runs and came home with one ribbon and one medal for his age group.  My husband has been a runner since junior high, but not so with all of the participants.  One of the fascinating things about the Senior Games is that some of these people were not athletes in their youth and have come late (very late) to the notion of physical exercise being beneficial and rewarding.

The day before the 5K, which was held at the Cleveland Zoo, we were walking the race route to get a feel for the course and fell into conversation with another couple who were doing the same thing.  The wife of the participant told me that her husband had had two heart attacks, and that his whole family was overweight.  He had taken up running after the second heart attack and had lost 80 pounds during the past year.  He was now more or less obsessed with exercise and diet to the point that she had gone off to their second home in Florida to get a break from it.  She commented that she no longer enjoyed eating since he had put himself, and her, on a restrictive diet.  She, by the way, did not need to lose weight.

The dear lady couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the strange world that runners retreat into prior to a race.  There is no other topic worthy of conversation.  Everything revolves around and is focused on “the race.”  As the wife of a long-time runner, I assured her that this was “normal,” and that a week later she should expect the whole race to be relived.  He will be making remarks like…”A week ago right now I was_______.”  He may be wearing his medal under his shirt and pulling it out to be admired by anyone who mentions “the race.”

The first eight runners in each age group were recognized.  Places 8 through 4 received ribbons, while 3, 2 and 1 got bronze, silver and gold medals.  At the awards ceremony, it was interesting that as the older age group results were read, sometimes there were not as many as 8 participants to be recognized.  In fact, in the 10 K, age 85-89, there was only one male participant, who automatically received the gold. 

After about age 85, the participants, both male and female find it difficult to step up and down from the podium.  They may be able to run/walk a 5 or 10 K, but the little step up to the podium becomes a barrier, and they need to steady themselves by holding on to someone to make that step up.

As each age group is called forward, one can’t help but notice the increasing frailty, fewer participants and slower recovery time.  As hard as we try to take good care of our bodies, eventually they deteriorate.  Something breaks or wears out.  We may be able to put off the inevitable for a time, but no one lives forever.  There were no participants 95 or over.

But…if you live long enough and can still show up and put one foot ahead of the other, you might just win the gold!

Doing the 5K Loop

I have an exercise area set up in the house: Nordic Track, rowing machine, treadmill and a flatscreen TV to distract me during the otherwise boring process of trying to lower my LDL and raise my HDL. However, this afternoon, although the air was chilly, was also beautifully sunny. Going for a walk outdoors seemed like a great idea. The down side of this decision was the concern that I might end up limping home. Occasionally when I walk, something goes amiss before I make the complete circuit, and I hobble home with pain in my left hip and knee. There have even been a couple of times when I have had to call my husband on my cell phone and request taxi service home. At least if I am on the treadmill, I am already home.

My husband has been a distance runner since his teen years. He has several routes through the city all measured out. One of these is a 5K (3+ miles) loop which he does in a counter-clockwise direction, so that there is a steep hill in the first half of the run and a gradual downslope home. I prefer to go clockwise with a gradual uphill in the first half and the steep downslope on the home stretch.

When I left home, he was on the computer, but said he would shortly be going out for a run. I started out with a tissue stuffed up the left sleeve of my sweatshirt (my nose runs in the cold), and my cell phone stuffed up the right sleeve......no pockets.

It really was a glorious afternoon. Daffodils and tulips are in bloom. Trees are beginning to bud. A dog barked ferociously from behind his fence....fortunately, a nice sturdy fence.

I came along just in time to see a grandmother get out of her car and head toward a house where two little heads peeked up over the windowsill in anticipation. She glanced my way, and we exchanged a smile. "I love it...I just love it," she said. I nodded, because we grandmothers know about this feeling. I was glad I had decided to walk outdoors, as I thoroughly enjoyed that shared moment.

In the next block, I noticed a man out mowing his lawn. I recognized him as a professor from the community college, who had known my son when he was a student there. He saw me coming and turned the mower off as I approached. He asked about my son....where he was, what he was doing. I must confess to delighting in any opportunity to "brag" about my son.

In the next block, I saw a runner coming toward me. It isn't unusual to see runners while I am out walking, but I decided to give this one a kiss. He has been my favorite runner for over 40 years. I then spent some time musing about the morning he had surprised me.

Several years ago, I was going through a time of emotional upheaval, and I kept waking up ridiculously early. If I stayed in bed, I would just toss and turn and feel distraught, so I would get up and walk the 5K loop. I often saw early morning runners. My husband has never been a morning person, much less a crack-of-the-dawn runner. He was always in a deep sleep when I left...or so I thought. On one of those mental health walks, I realized a runner was coming from the other direction straight at me. It wasn't until a few seconds before he planted a kiss on me that I recognized him. Every time I think of him overcoming his morning inertia to surprise me, I smile inside.

He, of course, runs a lot faster than I walk, so he beat me home today. About a block from home, I saw the car pull out and head in my direction. He was coming to find me and make sure my leg wasn't bothering me. He said he had projected when I would arrive home based on when he had seen me, and I was behind schedule. My leg was fine, but there had been so much to see and to ponder, that my focus on a pace was non-existent.

When I walk outdoors, my mind travels a lot farther than 5K.