Over the past training year several milestone occurrences have happened:
- I crested the mid-point of my 30’s and turned 36.
- I had a second child, my daughter Faye, giving my wife and me two under four years-old.
- I suffered my first string of injuries since I was 18 that sidelined me from running.
The natural reaction to these events is to accept the fact that my “best” [insert arbitrary measurement of success] years of running are likely behind me. There are enough race calculators and magazine articles to provide evidence for the slow decline in performance that is likely marching toward me like a wave of impending doom to fill thousands of blog posts. I sense all the physical signs of the fall-off. I don’t recover from tough sessions nearly as quickly as I did years ago. I wake up with aches in places I never noticed. There are more days where significant self-talk is necessary to lace up my shoes. The list goes on and on.
So what is a former-moderately-successful-and-reasonably-accomplished-mid-thirties-runner to do when faced with the unwinnable race against Father Time?
Gun for a PR of course!
With the deck stacked clearly against me, and the absurdity of trying to beat the 28 year-old ghost in the mirror readily apparent. I am here to proclaim, I’m going after a PR past my prime!
Follow along as I detail the weekly journey (the highs – hopefully many, the lows – hopefully few) and hope to make sense of a senseless pursuit.