Successfully Running Slower

I wasn’t sure I could do it

Photo by David Cadenas on Unsplash

Once upon a time

It sounds odd to me now, but for the longest time, when I saw someone running slowly, I marveled at them. I could walk slower or faster, and of course, I could run at varying speeds, but some people have a gift for making running gestures without going faster than a sloth. I didn’t think I could do it.

I’d watch them expecting they were going to fall over, like a kid on a bike pedaling too slowly. If you are of a certain age, you may remember one of the gags Artie Johnson did on Laugh-In (circa 1970), where he rode a tricycle and always fell over at the end. That picture stays vivid in my mind when I see people making running motions while going at walking speed.

Don’t bother looking up a clip of Laugh-In on YouTube; I did. Apparently, what was funny in 1968 doesn’t always translate well into the 2020s. Maybe we’ve been spoiled by Funniest Home Videos.

I used to think, Why don’t they just walk? Two years ago, I was running in a 5k. It was a hot July morning. Halfway through, my body was protesting, and my brain was telling me to slow down. Unbelievably, my mind told me I had two choices: stop and walk or keep running. At that moment, I didn’t know how to slow down. I won my age group, but seriously wondered if I was going to finish at all. Did that ever happen to you?

The race I can’t win is against Father Time. I turn 69 this month, and this past year on the road has been an adventurous one. There were several months when hitting the street and staying the course felt more challenging than normal.

My injuries weren’t the kind that sidelined me; they were of the come along and needle me variety. Not painful enough to evoke a stoppage, but enough to keep me concerned. Those days are behind me now, thank God. Still, the concern lingers: Will they be back?

There were days I opted for the exercise bike. Maybe if it were a real bike, I’d feel differently, but I never felt whole after 45 minutes pedaling to nowhere. It’s not like being out on the street before sunrise, remembering where the pavement is uneven, and the cars don’t stop at the intersection. Where dogs bark, and you can’t tell which dark spot is a puddle and which one is a hole.

A painful decision

My saving grace was giving myself permission to run slower and having the confidence to do it. Key to it all is that first 25 yards. Starting slowly allows me to check to be sure all my systems are good: knees, check; ankles, check; nausea, negative; head, fine. Also helpful for me is that I begin my course running uphill. If anything is going to hurt, it’s going to tell me on that first stretch of pavement.

Running uphill makes me feel like I’m paying dues that will earn interest and bless me later in the run because what goes up must come down. At the risk of sounding like a sissy, running downhill is my favorite.

Sadly, my course begins in the YMCA’s parking lot. That means whoever happens to be pulling into the facility as I’m starting will think those thoughts about me that I used to think about people who run as I do now. I’d like to stop and explain to them I’ll be running faster before I’m done, but that would be a worse look than just putting my head down and slothing along.

I comfort myself with the thought that nobody cares how fast I’m going; they’re looking for a parking spot near the door. Funny how people park as close as they can before they walk into the gym to exercise.

The good news is that although I have some pre-run anxiety from experiences I’ve had over the past year, once I get moving, I’m pleasantly surprised at how my body has been responding. It’s always better than I’ve anticipated.

I’d also like to mention how helpful Adam Dipinto’s stories have been about his long recovery from a terrible knee injury. His struggle to get back to running, even if ever so slowly or for a short distance, has inspired a greater gratitude in me for the ability to run.

The older we get, the more we realize that our last run is coming sooner than we’d like to think. Slowing my pace, particularly at the start, has helped me prolong my running career. Maybe it’s the answer you’ve been looking for, too.

Happy running!