"Don't watch the clock; do what it does. Keep going."
~ Sam Levenson
Today, I am a Master. In our culture, you better be really damn good at something to call yourself a master. At this point in my life, I do lots of things and I do some of them pretty well, but I can't honestly give myself the 'master' title in any of them without sounding incredibly conceited or like a total moron. I am not a master chef or a master sensei (although it would be really cool to be both of those things), and I am far from a master parent (is there such a thing??) but I am, officially, a Master runner. Turns out, all you have to do to give yourself this title is turn 40. That was easy. In racing, the master runners, specifically those who are 40+, have their own, oft-celebrated category, sometimes entitling them to new and different perks ie. a separate start or special awards. The thing is, while I appreciate the title and I do love to be able to call myself a Master at something, (who wouldn't?) my ability as a runner is not much different than it was at age 39. In fact, I'm probably stronger and more dedicated now than I've ever been, excluding college. Running happens to be one of those rare sports where people often peak later in life and many are still improving and competing well into their golden years. I, myself, started running marathons back in 2007, at age 32. I rolled, er um...crawled across the finish line of my first in 3 hours and 39 minutes. Despite how I felt (awful), I was thrilled with that time and over the moon about the whole experience.
|Baystate Marathon, 2007|
(it's hard to put in words the pain I was in)
|Mohawk Hudson Marathon, 2014|
(yep, I was giddy. Tired, but giddy)
Listen to this:
Rollin' On - Royal Tongues