I’ve been bicycling since 1981, when I purchased my first ten-speed bike (a Sears Free Spirit), but I’ve been running in earnest only since September 1996, when I began training for my first marathon (at the age of 39). I quickly became addicted to running, which is far more elemental and far more difficult than bicycling. During the next seven and a half years, I ran eleven marathons and dozens of shorter races (from two miles to 30 kilometers). My mantel is covered with trophies and I have many medals hanging from a nail in my study. All the while, I continued bicycling, and a few years ago I began to play softball with my UTA Liberal Arts colleagues, having taken a 20-year hiatus from the sport. I’m far from a natural athlete, but I’m an athlete. I’ve always found that sport provides a nice complement to scholarship. I want my body to be as developed as my mind.
My most recent marathon was in December 2003. The aches and pains I had begun to experience on long runs made marathon training—and the marathons themselves—dreadful. My body was telling me in no uncertain terms to ease up. Like any self-respecting man, I ignored it. But the 2003 marathon was so hard that, while doing it, I decided to retire from the distance. I had no significant aches or pains on runs of 15 miles or less, so I decided to specialize in half marathons (13.1 miles) and 10K (6.2-mile) races. That would give me a reason to continue training at a high level, which is important to my mental and physical health.
Then weird things began to happen. In 2004, I hurt my back about three times. Each time, it started off as an ache in the right pelvis (the sacroiliac joint) and spread to the right hip. It got so bad that I went to Arlington Memorial Hospital one Sunday morning at five o’clock. I later saw other doctors, including a specialist, who took X-rays and an MRI scan. All the doctors said it was inflammation. That doesn’t sound like much, but it laid me low. For weeks on end, during these bouts of pain, I had to walk bent over, like an old man. I hate taking medication, but for several days at a time I had to take Motrin (ibuprofen) just to function. In short, I was miserable. I went seven weeks without running at one point in 2004.
Needless to say, I did no races while this was going on. In fact, I did no races at all in 2004, although I did more than 20 bike rallies. (Riding doesn’t bother me, perhaps because I’m bent over.) Early in 2005, I realized that I hadn’t been getting enough protein. I began to keep track of my protein intake so as to get at least 63 grams a day. I began to feel better. My back and hip pain went away and I felt young again. I assumed it was the protein, because nothing else in my life had changed. (This is an application of John Stuart Mill’s method of difference, which is one of his five methods of experimental inquiry.) As fall approached, I decided to train for another marathon. On 10 October, as part of this training, I ran 13.2 miles on my neighborhood route. I felt fine. But the moment I stopped running, I felt the pain in my SI joint again. That’s always the first sign. I continued running, however, since the pain wasn’t severe, and was starting to get my speed back when the pain got worse. On 4 November, I ran 4.3 miles. On 5 November, I ran 3.1 miles. On 6 November, I rode my bike 66 miles. That night, I could barely sleep because of the pain.
I had overdone it. My body was telling me to stop, and this time I complied. The only aerobic exercise I had between 6 November and 27 November—a period of three weeks—was a 60-mile bike ride in Denton (the annual Turkey Roll). This past Sunday, going crazy for lack of exercise, I decided to find out what effect (if any) running had on my pain, which was incessant but diminishing. I ran two miles. No setback. The next day I ran 3.1 miles. No setback. Two days later, I ran 4.3 miles. No setback. Two days later (yesterday), I ran two miles. No setback. Today, throwing caution to the wind, I did a 10K race in Arlington at the annual Arlington Winter Run (hosted by my university).
It was incredible. Although my back ached at the start when I bent over, I had no discomfort during the race. My goal was a mile pace of 7:45, which is well off my personal record in the 10K distance of 6:32.10. I chatted with friends during the first mile. To my surprise, I did the first mile in 7:30. I was barely breathing hard. The second mile came and went in 7:19. My friend Larry Pao was a few yards ahead of me, so I used him as a pacer. I did the third mile in 7:23, which gave me a cumulative mile pace of 7:24. Although this was faster than I had expected, I wasn’t about to throw it away in the second half, so I kept the intensity up. But the lack of training was starting to affect me. I did the fourth mile in 7:30. “A little over two miles to go,” I told myself. By this point I had caught Larry. We alternated our position so as to shield ourselves from the wind, which was stiff. Larry had done the two-mile race just before the 10K and was using the 10K race as a training run. I did the fifth mile in 7:30, which gave me a mile pace of 7:26.4. No way was I going to fall below 7:30, although I was close to going anaerobic. Larry kept telling me to keep him honest. I had no idea what that meant, but I knew it was designed to encourage me. Finally, with half a mile to go, I told Larry to “take me home.” I wanted to finish strong (as always). I did the sixth mile in 7:18 and the final 2.14 miles at a pace of 6:24.47. My overall pace was 7:22.91 (elapsed time = 45:52.28), which is better than the 7:23.55 I had two years ago in this race, when I was in great shape. Thanks, Larry!
I realize that 7:22.91 is nothing special. Indeed, it’s well off my own personal record at this distance. But with all that’s happened to me in the past two years, I’m delighted. I can’t be sure that I won’t wake up tomorrow in pain. All I know is that I felt good during the run and that I feel good now (having napped for almost two hours). Assuming I didn’t hurt myself this morning, I’ll continue to do 5K and 10K races for the rest of the winter and spring, with lots of training runs of up to 6.6 miles in between. Bicycling begins in earnest in late March or early April, and we’ll be back to playing softball shortly thereafter. I’m like a shark. If I stop moving, I die.
Addendum: I spoke to a woman at the start. She had a black dog on a leash. I asked her how the dog (a three year old) likes to run and she said the dog loves it. She said the dog has done a 20-mile run with her. I was flabbergasted. You guessed it: The dog beat me. But not by much! I joked in the first mile that, while I don’t mind being beaten by a dog, I would never allow myself to be beaten by a cat.
Addendum 2: Here is a list of finishers. I was 6th of 18 in my age group (men 45-49) and 43d of 184 overall. The top three in each age group won trophies.