passing five

Back in 2008 and barely a year into my running career it was taking me a lot of time and motivation to move up in distances. I had spent the better part of that first year working up from couch potato to five klicks, and at the time that had seemed like a monumental piece of self improvement work, so much so that I could scarcely imagine going twice that distance.

I dug this piece out of my archives recently, written nearly eighteen years ago as I was mulling over signing up for the ten klick clinic and further pushing my newfound fitness and distances to the next level…

You can probably guess what I decided.

Indecisionable 

Original Published Date : Wednesday, November 26, 2008

I’ve had mixed feelings about running lately.

No, I’ve not given it up. But I am at something of a transition point. 

About a year ago when I stormed out of December enrolled in a learn-to-run five kilometres clinic, five kilometres itself was a distant goal. It has since evolved into something of a happy medium. As I’ve learned over that last year, five kilometres is middle ground between Side A (I can run, but I’m not quite ready to commit) and Side B (I’m a runner). On Side A, one can run a couple times per week, build up some endurance and stamina, and participate in a few annual fun runs where the outcome is bragging rights as a participant. On Side B, one starts to track things in spreadsheets, makes graphs, check performance, eats to fuel, drinks to hydrate, and competes rather than just participates. It’s a whole new level.

I was at my clinic on Monday night and we trotted out to run our weekly run, jogging a meandering pace around the neighbourhood, barely passing the three kilometre mark by the end of our twenty-five minutes. And, frankly, a don’t think I broke a sweat. Of course, this implies (by my own terms) I’m ready to graduate to the next level. The problem is, however, the next level is a ten kilometre clinic. Ten clicks, weekly. And down into the abyss of a “Running Commitment” that moves from casual to hard-core. After all, the next step is but a slippery slope into the half-marathon — and a dreaded two-hour-plus run.

I don’t know what to make of it.

My follow-through on this kind of thing is rarely this good.

I’m not used to success.

So, I’m standing at the edge looking over, toeing the line as it were. And the problem is fairly black and white: Do I stick with the five kilometer group and fall into a happy medium of meandering jogs around the neighborhood with the promise of a casual relationship with the sport? Or do I move to the ten group, oblige myself to a minimum training schedule, start tracking data in complex spreadsheets about my heart rate, sleeping patterns, and diet, and increase my shoe-budget appropriately?

Isn’t the approaching new years a good time for such resolutions, after all?