For the second time this year, I got smoked by the old guys. This time, it was as part of a 10 kilometer race in Bethesda, Maryland called the “Turkey Chase,” which takes place on Thanksgiving day morning. My Uncle Ken, a doctor from Potomac, who is 55 years old and in great shape I might add, was running in his 10th straight Thanksgiving Day run. He ran alongside a fellow doctor in his fifties, named Alan, who also had run this race before. This was my first Turkey Chase and actually my first 10K race ever. Regardless of these small details, it was me, the 26 year old, who was once again showed up by a few men in their fifties (bad hips and all).
We started out at the Bethesda YMCA as part of a group of over 4,000 runners. At the starting line was myself, the two doctors (Ken and Alan) as well as Ken’s son Matthew, who is my 18-year old cousin, a freshman at the University of Virginia. I was somewhat nervously anticipating the running of six miles through the unknown streets of Bethesda, what seemed like foreign territory to me. I really didn’t know the course at all and to be honest, I hadn’t really even trained for this race.
As we stood at the starting line among the pack of runners (all in incredibly good-looking shape I might add), I was banking on the fact that doing core strength exercises and some cardiovascular workouts at Cross-Fit Providence would propel me through this race. I was also relying upon my iPod for inspiration in the form of Chris Brown, Lil’ Wayne, and Rihanna songs. However, perhaps the most obvious factor I had assumed was on my side was “youth.” The idea that I could easily keep up with Uncle Ken because of our difference of 30 years in age was a misconception that I willingly hung onto like a painful addiction.
After the gun went off to signal the start of the race, I couldn’t have been more misconstrued in my expectation that youthful exuberance would carry me through this race. The fact that Ken was born during the Eisenhower administration and I, during President Reagan’s second term did nothing for my mental and physical stamina needed to succeed in the Turkey Chase run. Age was merely a figment of my imagination. All of my youthful exuberance was overcome by strength and determination on the part of the old guys as Ken and Alan dominated from the onset. During the 1st mile, Matthew had already bolted ahead to a faster pace group and I was left in the dust behind two doctors who didn’t mind showing up a twenty-something with a good dose of old man strength.
Miles 2 through 5 were more about keeping up with the doctors than anything else. At times, I could see myself slipping away from the two men in their jump suits and sneakers that even the family dog has already chewed up. As they were busy steadily pacing themselves and talking about God knows what, I was erratically swerving through the masses just to make sure I didn’t lose sight of the jump suits. Finally, at around mile 5.25, after we had already turned around at Wisconsin Avenue and Old Georgetown Road back to the Bethesda YMCA, I finally started to catch the Baby Boomers. I gasped to Alan that we only had less than 1 mile to go (based on my iPhone application, RunKeeper, telling me through my earphones). He sped up and left Ken and I side-by-side, probably in disgust for my generation and our technological habits.
Ken and I finished the race together arm-in-arm for a finish time of 59:49, but not after some deep, gasping breaths on my part and having to overcome a slightly nauseous episode at the very end. I’ve realized in my few years of running that this is an individual sport not just contingent upon physical ability, but more often one’s mental capacity to overcome small battles with yourself, little “games” if you will, that are required to continue to push your body to its limits. Ken’s ability to overcome pain to hips proved to me that I could channel my energy away from my shin splints. The bottom line was that no matter what is plaguing you during your runs, you have to be able to cognitively remove yourself from the actual pain and focus your attention elsewhere. The “other” point I want to make is that age is irrelevant when it comes to matters of strength and determination. The old guys won again.
The Sound Cyclists Bicycle Club was founded in 1977 and serves as a great group for organized riding in Fairfield County, Connecticut. When the club was first started, there were only a handful of members, but today there are over 1,000 dues paying members. Organized riding servers as a great to meet other riders, improve your stamina and performance, and to learn how to ride safely in large groups and on busy roads or park trails.
