Fitness – Three Score & Counting

Running Notes: Redwood Trails

Photo by **Marco Trinidad** from **Pexels**

I stood at the start line and looked around me. Not a gray hair in the bunch. It would be a tough morning… the call started – ready…set…run! I waved a quick goodbye to my husband as the group of 40 or so runners surged across the start line. They took off like jackrabbits! This run started with a 400 yard or so open field sprint before the hills and the woods looming ominously ahead.

My first trail run. It sounded like fun to run outside in the woods and this particular one was billed as good for beginners. So I signed up . . . .

In a matter of seconds, I was swallowed by the woods and a massive hill. I trudged upwards, chatting with a companion who was about my speed – God! this was hard – when will this hill end, I thought. Since the park was not closed, I scurried past some hikers, complete with hiking poles and backpacks and thought for the first (but not the last) time, why am I out here?

At the top of the hill, my companion sprinted off and I was left alone. I looked around me – huge stands of redwoods were in this park, unbelievably massive trees creating semi-circles of protection – each protecting and sheltering the other- and creating a mossy coolness in the park. At another spot, a meadow of beautiful wildflowers. Awesome beauty, so this is trail running!

Why am I out here?

Again, this is a familiar thought… one I have every time I run a race. Why did I think this was a good idea? I had learned that it was a 10-miler (not 10K) when I picked up my bib 30 minutes before the start, and “gulp!” I realized I had misread the description of the course. Some longer distance folks were prepared to do 2 or 3 loops of the course. I was doing 4 miles longer than I had planned.

I settled into my cadence. In the second hour of the race, a guy ran up behind me, saying excuse me “ma’am” – I was surprised that someone was coming from the rear, but also that he had referred to me as “ma’am” – an indication that I was not a peer.

He would soon be followed by another – “excuse me ma’am,”

and another “how is it going ma’am?”

or a cheery “way to go, ma’am!”

I was beside myself – who do these jackrabbits think they are talking to? I muttered to myself – as another happy multi-lap runner sped by me, “how ya’ doing ma’am?”

“They are treating me like I’m somebody’s grandmother,” I pouted aloud to no-one in particular.

This comment was followed by a shock of recognition – I am somebody’s grandmother – indeed by this point, I had two grandsons with another on the way. These mostly young runners saw me as somebody’s grandma, and they were right!

With the ins and outs of the breath, that thought roiled, becoming a mantra – I am somebody’s grandma. I am somebody’s grandma. I am somebody’s grandma. I am somebody’s Grandma!

I was named after my own grandmother, and here I was, deep in the California woods, really feeling for the first time that I had become Grandma Grace! I trudged on.

Why am I out here?

I came to a sudden stop. This trail had streams which had to be crossed without the benefit of a bridge. As I contemplated how to traverse the one ahead, too deep to avoid getting my ankles wet, and too wide to jump, I met a fellow runner – “hi ya’ doing Ma’am – I’m doing the 20” -he said, as he splashed by me into the ankle deep water.

I stared at the stream looking for a way to cross with dry feet. “Just do it, ma’am, just plop on through to the other side,” he encouraged, noticing my discomfit.

“You’ll dry quickly! You are doing great! Keep going, ma’am!” And he was off!

“No kidding! I laughed, incredulous; and, then more seriously, yelled after him –

“How far do I have to go?”

“Only 2 more miles or so,” he hollered back.

Left with my thoughts, I realized in the time he had done 18 miles, I was at a measly 8 miles. But this “water element” was not going to stop me.

So I did. Plop, plop, plop . . . through the icy cold spring run-off, to the other side, and off I trudged with my wet socks, and wet, squishy goretex trail shoes for the final two miles – marveling at the pure joy and abandon I felt.

Why I am out here.

That first trail run was not my last. I love the beauty of the outdoors. I enjoy the uncertainty of the terrain, and the unpredictability of the course. I love the pitting of myself against the course-with no expectation but finishing . . . alive. And I loved the camaraderie and encouragement among runners sharing in the challenge of the course.

While I see myself as strong, vital, vibrant, and ready to take on challenges– others might look at me and see my graying hairs and see somebody’s Grandma. How would I respond to that?

As I emerged from the woods, down a steep, quad crushing, knee-jarring ravine toward the finish line, I realized that I would respond just as I had at every stage of my life- with joy, with expectancy, and with a bit of surprise.

How about you? Are you a runner, hiker, biker, swimmer, or endurance athlete? Have you had experiences of acknowledging your own prowess as you age? or overcome disability? Outside of sport, have you found yourself in situations where you have had to shine in the face of doubt? I’d love to hear about it in the comments below.

I am the firstborn of my generation which made me the playmate of my older Uncles and Aunt. They were between 5-15 years older than me so they were my playmates, babysitters, caretakers, confidants, and teachers. There was also a fair amount of teasing and “Mikey” moments -activities that might in some cultures be classified as torture. I love my Uncles – the young ones were my father’s brothers and they watched over me as I grew up, gave me a place to stay when I was in college and grad school, and have been my lifelong friends. The funny thing about aging is that there seemed to be a lot more years between us when I was in elementary school, and they were in college than there seems to be now. I’m in my sixties and my Dad’s two remaining brothers are approaching their 80s.

So during a conversation recently, one who has struggled with the family disease – diabetes – for a long time, and has suffered from serious complications for the last several years confessed something that made me pause. He said, “had I known I’d live as long as this, I’d have taken better care of my body!” We laughed, but I quickly wrote that down because it was both a warning and an inspiration.

Youth is the time when experiments, the feeling of indestructibility, and societal pressures lead to developing habits that profoundly impact health. Overeating, overworking, and not exercising; drinking and clubbing, minimizing sleep, and becoming a couch potato often define early adulthood. Who as a 20 or 30-year-old even thinks about what it takes for the body to thrive to age 90 or 100? Yet that is a reasonable life expectancy for many people born after 1990. For a fascinating discussion of the impact of this increased life expectancy on individual choice, societal expectations, and relational dynamics read The Hundred-Year Life, by Lifton Gratton and Andrew Scott (Audible edition 2016).

In my 20s and 30s, I recall giving little consideration to the strength my body must possess in order to live well into my 90s. But now, as I approach “retirement” age, I often think about how to maximize my resiliency for the next 30 or 40 or 50 years.

Lesson One: Don’t Smoke

So what would I tell my 20-year old self about keeping my body healthy? First, don’t smoke. I learned to smoke as a freshman in college and by the time I was 20, I was hooked on nicotine. It held me in its grip until I was 38. I finally quit because I could no longer assume the risk of getting lung cancer – I had two children depending on me. In addition to the long-term effects on my lungs and heart, I calculate that my pack-a-day habit for 20 years cost me over $15,000 in today’s dollars. So if I knew then what I know now – I’d say don’t smoke – ANYTHING- tobacco, vapor, marijuana, – reserve your lungs for one thing – good clean air. Breathe deeply and enjoy the miracle of oxygenated blood, and put the money you save in as high a risk growth fund as you can find. After all, if you smoke, you can’t possibly be averse to risk.

Lesson Two: Exercise vigorously and frequently

The second thing I would tell my 20-year old self is to never stop exercising. As a young person I was active, and I love to get out and run, play tennis, hike, walk, and then I got a car, children, and a sedentary husband, and my life changed. I would tell myself that it is important to keep the stamina and endurance of youth by engaging in every kind of exercise, strength, stretching, aerobic, anaerobic, and just plain play. Make movement and play a part of your life, and model it to those in your sphere of influence, especially your children.

Lesson Three: Love my Body

The third thing I would tell my 20-year old self is to love my body. From the tweens on, women, in particular, struggle with negative thoughts about their bodies. A lot of this comes from nothing but societal conventions about what “looks good,” rather than any understanding about what “is good.”

In my early twenties, I had never been overweight, and had naturally gravitated to a healthy diet, and yet I gained upwards of 70 pounds in my first pregnancy. “Baby fat,” stretch marks and shifts in my body’s shape surprised me and tanked my self-esteem. It started the ups and downs of dieting and body drama. The reality is that with time and a return to normalcy, my health was restored. But my body was forever changed, and I would tell my younger self not to obsess about it. Such change is expected and should be celebrated and appreciated.

Lesson Four: Guard my Heart

The last thing I would tell my 20-year old self is to more carefully consider the company I keep. I drew like a magnet either mean, indifferent, lackadaisical, selfish, egotistical, and arrogant suitors or those who were depressed, unfocused, misdirected, or criminals. As I look back, my sense of my own value as a person was lowered by these associations. I’d tell my 20- year old self to guard my heart with diligence. I’d remember that I have too much to offer to settle.

Here is the good news, even if you are a smoking, couch potato, who hates her body and can see the carnage of bad relationships in your life, don’t fret. It’s not too late to commit to living a long, healthy, vibrant life until you die full of years. Make a plan and start taking the small steps necessary to make your dream a reality.

How about you? What are the lessons you would tell your younger self? What are you doing to ensure that you are primed to thrive into your elder years? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Category Archives: Fitness

Running Notes: The “ma’am thing”

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