Ventolin?
Ventolin?
pettygrove AC wrote:
I wonder when they got divorced. Maybe it was a quiet thing like the Coogans.
Funny you mention them. Mark is making his own return to running on Sunday in NYC. I think looking at faster than three hours though.
Ghost of the past:) wrote:
No Way and Toro, great posts!!!!!!, and I sincerely mean that.
I wish this site was more about posts like you two have written versus the daily garbage. Honestly, how refreshing as I only check in once every week or two because of the atmosphere.
Motivating stuff fellas!
I was not as good as you guys, but I ran 2:41 marathon at age 19, nothing special. Now, trying to break 3 hours at age 50. Having more fun "trying" than I did years ago. I could care less about those who know me and say I'm too old...I'm having fun trying:)
No Way, Toro, and Ghost of the Past,
Great posts, guys. And this is a great thread. I can totally relate to what you guys wrote, and I can understand how Kennedy feels now, even though I was never a world class runner. I was pretty successful in high school, earned a four-year college scholarship, and once ran a 4:10 mile, but by world class standards I've always been a nobody. But it doesn't matter whether you were once world class runner. If you ever tasted the thrill of winning and had any kind of success at lower levels, you have to understand why Kennedy didn't compete for so long. I haven't run a race in 20 years. Maybe I'll have to follow his example and enter a race again some day. Here's something I wrote about my own experience:
“Fun Run,” Anyone?
I love runners. I haven't always liked every runner I've met, but I've rarely met a runner who didn't seem like a quality person. Similar personality traits and a knowing camaraderie bind us all. Some of us run to win, some of us run for our health, but all of us run for how it makes us feel. We all understand one another on a visceral level. As the legendary Bill Rodgers said in an interview a few years ago, “We're the same. We're all blood brothers, all us runners.”
Rodgers is right. We are all “blood brothers.” And sisters. However, despite the camaraderie between distance runners, I've never really been able to jump into the social scene of running. Specifically, I've never really embraced the idea of the “fun run.” The 5K “fun run.” The 10K “fun run.” For God's sake, the half-marathon “fun run”? Don't get me wrong—I understand the concept of the “fun run,” but I've never been able to actually do it. Beginning in high school, it was ingrained in me that a race is a race, not a “fun run.”
It's not that my running has always led to racing; I've often run for a few weeks or months, hoping to work myself into racing shape, only to end up failing because of injury, 12-hour work days on my feet in a factory, or carrying a heavy college load while trying to make time for a young family. However, ever since I ran my first race and tasted success, racing has been on my mind whenever I lace up my running shoes.
To this day, I have yet to enter a race and simply run for “fun.” I won't enter a race just to get the cool t-shirt. I've never run a race planning to take it easy. Although I've never been a great runner on the world stage, I've always felt that if I don't have a chance of winning, placing, or at least setting a personal record, racing is pointless. Why torture myself? Rather than enter a “fun run,” I've always found it more fun to run alone in one of my favorite places. In any so-called “fun run,” not everyone is in it for fun. There will always be runners who are in it to win, and rightly so. I’ve always felt the same.
I know it's strange. I know it's a ridiculous attitude, especially at my age. I should simply accept the fact that I'm too old and slow to even imagine winning races or, for that matter, coming anywhere close to a personal record. Perhaps it’s time that I just go ahead and do some “fun runs” and be part of the sociable running community. I think I might some day. But let me tell you a little competitive runner's secret, which is true whether you were once a world class runner or simply successful in high school: even when your aging body can no longer “walk the walk,” your competitive mind will always “talk the talk.”
To Shawn H
You don't have to run to win the race or set a PR as you get older.
You can still win or place in your age division.
In my 30's I seldom placed, but now in my 60's I win or place in most races I run. Of course sometimes there may only be 5-10 runners in my division.
I still train hard... speed work at least once a week and 30-40 miles a week. When I run in a race I race. Even though I can't run one mile now as fast as I averaged 30 years ago in a marathon.
It's strange...running a 7:50 pace feels exactly the same as a 5:50 did 30 years ago.
old guy 68 wrote:
To Shawn H
You don't have to run to win the race or set a PR as you get older.
You can still win or place in your age division.
In my 30's I seldom placed, but now in my 60's I win or place in most races I run. Of course sometimes there may only be 5-10 runners in my division.
I still train hard... speed work at least once a week and 30-40 miles a week. When I run in a race I race. Even though I can't run one mile now as fast as I averaged 30 years ago in a marathon.
It's strange...running a 7:50 pace feels exactly the same as a 5:50 did 30 years ago.
I know what you mean, "Old Guy 68." Thanks for the encouragement. I'm in my early 50s now, but some days my slow pace really feels like I'm moving. I posted this little piece some time ago, but I think it expresses what we older guys feel:
On a bad day, I feel 52. On a good day I feel 32. Today is a good day. The air smells of pine, the sunshine filters softly through the trees, and I'm cruising the streets at seven minutes per mile. Decades ago, I cruised comfortably at six minutes per mile for up to four times as far, but today, at age 52, I'll take it. As my 82-year-old father often says about growing old, “It beats the alternative.” Besides, how many 52-year-old men have a body that looks this good? Seriously, my body looks 20 years younger, even if it doesn't often feel that way. Looks can be deceiving, especially with runners. Of course, my face tells the true story: the little wrinkles, the sun damaged skin, the tired eyes, and the receding hair speckled with gray. But who wants to hear that story? Not me. Not today. Today I'm 52 and cruising!
old guy 68, toro, shawn h
great posts from dedicated runners. like kennedy, of course.
Always have been a fan of Bob Kennedy- sat next to his wife at a meet I don't remember but I haven't forgotten how friendly she was. No idea if they are divorced or not (sure hope not), but a long time ago a buddy of mine had a theory that 50% of every marathon field is 1 year either side of a break up or divorce. I guess today that could be 50% of everybody.
Article and thread were both good reads.
Couple of my thoughts --
As some have indicated, many super running talents have super talents elsewhere (such as Daniel Lincoln, steeple AR holder and brilliant medical student) -- and when a super talent leaves the sports suddenly, I see it less as a matter of "growing up and moving on" and more as realizing the right time for every priority in your life. I think BK has done a pretty good job of that.
College running is also the most fun it ever gets. I got a lot better after graduating once I found my proper event, but my college days are my best memories in the sport. It's much different afterward, and if it starts to feel like a grind a grind for you, you won't be as good at it.
"Hawkeye 48" -- I've encountered a lot people across many sports who were extremely nice, pleasant, etc., except when they were in competitive mode. Getting the best out of yourself and getting the best of your competitors often makes you combative and edgy (in the older sense of the word), frequently because you're so tired all the time. Marty Liquori (runner and jazz guitarist) has written of this.
"mahoosic" -- I hear ya...that day in 2000 humbled a lot of exceptional runners.
Wow, there a lot of sissies on this thread. Maybe you guys should go post on the Runners World Forums.
Actually Lincoln was a below average medical student and ended up in a very mediocre residency.
[quote]Joseph McVeigh wrote:
(such as Daniel Lincoln, steeple AR holder and brilliant medical student) quote]
I hope you're able to get there Shawn.
Sadly, you're an embarrassment because you simply want threads that are combative and slanderous. Bob Kennedy admitted that he now gets it, but unfortunately, you still don't. I've broken 2:35 (doesn't mean anything), am now 47 years old and just missed breaking 3 hours last year (so did Benji Durden, a sub 2:10 guy, who was trying to do the same and ran about 3:00:55?). The fun is in the trying and relaxing while you do it, aka no pressure. Calling posters sissies? For the record, I'm a 2 Dan Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do and still practice it today. Wanna call me a sissy face to face or hide behind your keyboard? Please do us all a favor and go post on another thread if you can't handle a civil one. Also, great post Joe!
embarrassing thread wrote:
Wow, there a lot of sissies on this thread. Maybe you guys should go post on the Runners World Forums.
Never Quit47 wrote:Calling posters sissies? For the record, I'm a 2 Dan Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do and still practice it today. Wanna call me a sissy face to face or hide behind your keyboard?
Wow! You are so tough!
Waddle on friend.
Never Quit47 wrote:
Sadly, you're an embarrassment because you simply want threads that are combative and slanderous.
Bob Kennedy admitted that he now gets it, but unfortunately, you still don't. I've broken 2:35 (doesn't mean anything), am now 47 years old and just missed breaking 3 hours last year (so did Benji Durden, a sub 2:10 guy, who was trying to do the same and ran about 3:00:55?).
The fun is in the trying and relaxing while you do it, aka no pressure.
Calling posters sissies? For the record, I'm a 2 Dan Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do and still practice it today. Wanna call me a sissy face to face or hide behind your keyboard?
Well said, Never Quit. If we all became "sissies" when we got older and could no longer run a sub-5 mile or a sub-3 marathon, it would be a sad world indeed. But to anyone still stuck on such short-sighted thinking, let me tell you that payback is a real bitch. It won't be long until you are older and fit your present definition of "sissy." There's nothing wrong with getting to that point in your life where you realize that in the grand scheme of things it doesn't matter whether you can still run as fast as you used to. Here's a rather long excerpt from a book I wrote that I think explains things quite well. This is how EVERY runner should view other dedicated runners, no matter how fast or how slow. I used to think just like some of you youngsters. Someday you'll get it, just like Bob Kennedy does now:
True Believers
During the “running boom” of the 1970s, a running philosopher emerged, a “guru” for the running masses. His name was Dr. George Sheehan. At the age of 44, bored with his life as a successful cardiologist, Sheehan decided to take up running. His life was transformed. As a “born-again” convert to the physical and spiritual “religion” of running, Sheehan preached to the world about his running conversion, inspiring millions of devout followers.
Sheehan became a regular medical writer for Runner's World magazine, and he wrote several books and many articles on running. Sheehan is best known for his book Running and Being: The Total Experience, published in 1978, the year I began running. Depending on your point of view, Sheehan's writing can be described as either the thoughts of a man who is first a philosopher and then a runner, or the thoughts of a man who is first a runner and then a philosopher. Much of Sheehan's writing centers around the benefits of “play,” which he viewed as whatever we do in life that gives us joy, inspires our souls, and makes life worth living. Running was Sheehan's “play.”
I must confess that I never read a Sheehan book until I had completed most of the book you are now reading. Back in 1978, when Running and Being: The Total Experience was published, Sheehan's philosophical writing simply didn't interest me. In my young running life, a book filled with the thoughts of an “old” marathon runner frankly seemed boring. As a competitive high school miler, when I picked up a copy of Runner's World, I skimmed or completely skipped anything not related to training and competition, including: “boring” philosophical editorials; articles about running injuries, unless they addressed my own particular injury; most shoe surveys, which were always about the newest and most expensive shoes, not the one-year-old models my parents could afford and that I knew were just as good as the latest models; most articles about “old” (masters level) runners; most articles about women's running, unless I thought the women were both talented and attractive (yes, I was a typically shallow teen), such as mile world record holder Mary Decker; and most articles about sprinters, because in my view anyone who raced less than 800 meters had no place in my own “runner's world.” Of course, I was thrilled by articles about great distance runners, such as Bill Rodgers, Henry Rono, and especially Sebastian Coe, world record holder in the mile. While reading Runner's World, I occasionally skimmed Sheehan's thoughts, but just enough to further confirm my opinion that none of that “old man” philosophy pertained to me, but rather to all those “joggers” (a derogatory term in my mind) who were never going to be anything but weight-losers, “fun runners,” and fitness “fad-grabbers.”
Perhaps you'll understand my youthful obsession with the competitive side of running rather than Sheehan's “spiritual” running philosophy if I tell you about my own youthful running transformation.
Think for a moment about your own adolescent years. Perhaps you're still experiencing this awkward time of life. However, if you're older, think back and remember. Were you popular? Were you surrounded by admirers? Were you handsome or beautiful? Were you the class president or the homecoming queen? Were you a football or basketball star? Probably not, since you're sitting here reading about running.
What happens when a skinny, painfully shy, socially awkward, average kid with no fashion sense, an unmet need for orthodontics, a perpetually goofy home haircut, and a funny last name makes it “big” in a high school sport—even an introverted “fringe” sport like distance running? Well, let me tell you: my whole life changed. No, I wasn't suddenly the most popular kid in school. No, I wasn't elected class president. And no, I didn't get all the cute girls like the football and basketball players did. But my sudden running success had an immediate impact on my impressionable young mind. With each race I won, and with each time I heard my running accomplishments announced on the school intercom during first period, my little world expanded. Suddenly I was somebody. Kids I didn't know—even older kids—recognized me in the halls and called me by name. Teachers and administrators, too. Maybe you know how that feels as a shy, average high school kid, or maybe you've never had the chance to feel it, but I can tell you it was wonderful. As a result, my youthful focus on running revolved around my immediate competitive success and dreams of future success, not some “old” marathoner's philosophical viewpoint. After all, I believed that someday, if I just worked hard enough, I could be a world class runner. Maybe I could even make it to the Olympic Games! Then I'd really be somebody.
Unfortunately, I never really appreciated the philosophical side of running—the spiritual side of “play”—until I reached middle age. Since then, I have become increasingly devout in my belief that running goes way beyond youthful competition. There is something truly “spiritual” about running.
At the age of 52, I “discovered” something that had been right under my nose since the day I began running: Sheehan's Running and Being: The Total Experience. Once I began reading the book, I couldn't put it down. That “old man” philosophy I once thought didn't apply to me now seemed to have been written about me. I realized that my own running life was, in many ways, following in Sheehan's footsteps. Like Sheehan, I had run competitively and with some success when I was young. My daily run had once been the main event of my day, even the very purpose of my existence. But somehow, along the path of life, I had lost my way. I had allowed my own sense of “play” to die as surely as any religious backslider or apostate. Sheehan described what happened to me as losing who you are and just killing time as your life passes by. Like Sheehan, I, too, had let myself get caught up in the drudgery of life—the things we all feel forced to do, and the things other people expect us to do. Along the way, I had forgotten what really brought me joy. I had allowed myself to waste years of precious time while neglecting my own “play,” which, just like Sheehan's, had once been running. Some might call my sudden realization a “mid-life crisis.” I call it a mid-life reawakening.
Today, I know exactly what Sheehan meant when he said that runners are so fortunate to find something perfect in their lives. It's not that every runner can become a world-class competitor. I'm far from my youth when that was even a possibility. But it doesn't really matter now. Perhaps it never did. As the years have passed, I, like Sheehan, have learned a very important lesson about “running and being”: Running goes far beyond competition between the briefly young and fast. Running is bigger than the tiny number of elite runners you see in the lead pack of the Boston Marathon or speeding around the Olympic oval. While we greatly admire these gifted individuals, and they certainly inspire us all, running isn't really all about them and their very brief time at the top. Running is more about the masses who finish behind them. The life-long runners. The runners who, like the essence of running itself, keep going and going.
Some people might question why I decided to write a book about my own love of running. After all, I've never been a famous runner, and I wouldn't compare myself to Sheehan as a writer. My answer is that all of us runners have a story to tell. We all have something to add. And with a lifetime of running experience, we all become experts and proclaimers, not just the top-tier athletes and those who can write better than we can. My life-long love affair with running has taught me what millions of other runners already know or will eventually learn for themselves: the true story of running is about the anonymous yet devout millions of running converts who run not for glory, but for the pure love of running, the pure love of “play.” These are the souls who know what it means to be “reborn” when running transforms their lives. These are the true believers. These are my brothers and sisters.
Please do us all a favor and go post on another thread if you can't handle a civil one.
Also, great post Joe!
embarrassing thread wrote:Wow, there a lot of sissies on this thread. Maybe you guys should go post on the Runners World Forums.
If you are going to spam this board with your stupid book again, at least figure out the proper way to quote and respond to posts on this forum.
Hey Shawn, I'm with you on a lot of your thinking but really, quit posting whole pages of books.
Most of us have read George Sheehan and don't need to see it again.
That fat guy in the pic is BK???
Kennedy is the only runner to have a shoe named after him.
fleshback wrote:
Kennedy is the only runner to have a shoe named after him.
you are wrong. and dumb.
http://www.vibramfivefingers.com/products/Five-Fingers-BikilaLS-Mens.htmfleshback wrote:
Kennedy is the only runner to have a shoe named after him.