(When Runner’s World cut me loose as a columnist in 2004, I
wasn’t ready to stop magazine work. This year I post the continuing columns
from Marathon & Beyond. Much of
that material now appears in the book Miles to Go.)
2006. Running grew as it became more democratic. More runners
were bigger, more were older, far more were female. The average race pace
slowed as the field grew the most from midpack on back.
Just as road
races opened up to every type of runner, the Internet and its websites
democratized writing. Anyone can write anything in today’s chat rooms and
blogs, and on Facebook and Twitter.
The writer in
me appreciates and encourages these efforts. But as a reader I’m more selective
than ever before.
I used to read
almost every line written about running. No longer, and not just because of the
sheer volume makes that impossible. Some runner-writers spew unedited criticism
and sarcasm, usually from behind a curtain of anonymity.
They attack
other runners, often friends of mine, by name. These writers are free to say
whatever they want, and I’m free not to read them. They can only upset me if I
let them.
One online
article grabbed my attention in 2006 and wouldn’t let go. It attacked no one
personally but took on a whole class of runners who are friends of mine. This
piece kept eating at me, and the only way to make it stop was to answer it.
It appeared in
widely read Slate.com. Its title told most of what you need to know about
writer’s theme: “Running with Slowpokes – How Sluggish Newbies Ruined the
Marathon.” It
was signed by Gabriel Sherman, credited there as “a staff writer for Conde
Naste Portfolio.”
Sherman
described himself as “an avid runner with six marathons under my New Balance
trainers.” As you’d expect from his article’s attitude, he was younger (at 27)
and faster (2:56 PR) than most of today’s marathoners.
The
provocative title perhaps wasn’t his but an editor’s. The views that followed
were surely his own.
Sherman made
just finishing a marathon, at any pace, sound as easy as “joining a gym and
then putzing around on the stationary bike. We feel good about creating the
appearance of accomplishment, yet aren’t willing to sacrifice for true gains.”
He ended with,
“It’s clear now that anyone can finish a marathon. Maybe it’s time to raise our
standards and see who can run one.”
By this he
apparently meant running a faster marathon. He implied that slowpokes are slow
because they don’t try hard enough.
So they must
try to overcome the genes that didn’t grant them a fast-runner-like body? Try
to shed decades of age? Try to ignore a history of injury or illness? Try to
have fewer kids and an easier job?
I’ve spent my running and
writing lives fighting against the views expressed in “Slowpokes.” I side with
folksinger Woody Guthrie, who wrote:
“I hate a song that makes
you think you’re born to lose, no good to nobody, no good for nothin’ because
you’re either too young or too old, too fat or too thin, or to ugly, or too
this or that. I’m out to sing songs that’ll make you take pride in yourself.”
I hate a story that makes
you think you’re too slow. I’m out to write stories that will make you take
pride in yourself.
Gabriel Sherman suggested
that slowness is shameful. He didn’t define
“slowpokes,” so who are they?
How many of us
slowpokes does Sherman knows personally and did he talk to about their
histories, motives and training? Not many, I’d guess.
I know these
people from coaching them, as well as now being one of them. We aren’t a
nameless, faceless blob of unfit laziness. To say we aren’t trying is wrong.
For the sake
of discussion here, let’s draw the “slow” line at a five-hour marathon. That’s
twice as long as the average winning time for U.S. races (a little more for
men, less for women, but close enough as a talking point).
I know exactly
how it feels to finish just over five hours. I know too that about a quarter of
the runners on my marathon teams take at least that long, and they aren’t
slacking in training or putzing on race day.
Let me introduce
some friends of mine whose marathons usually take five hours or more. There’s
Bob Dolphin, who in his 70s ran about two dozen marathons a year and soon would
reach the 400th of his life. There’s Cathy Troisi, well into her
third round of running marathons in all the states.
There’s the
late Paul Reese, whose marathon PR was 2:39 but who took more than twice as
long in his last one – at age 85. And there’s the late Fred Lebow, who finally
ran his own New York City Marathon, while weakened by terminal illness, in the
high fives.
From my
training groups I could tell about Max and Gregg, Emily and Katie. They all
started in the fives but graduated into the next lower hour.
Paula and
Susan, mothers of 10 young children between them, ran 5½ hours together. Andy
and Matt took much longer to finish, while carrying lineman-like weight. Joyce
and Al ran-walked their first marathon at ages 66 and 67.
I looked these
teammates in the eyes every Sunday for four months and told they should feel
proud what they’d done. I dare anyone to tell them to their face that they’ve
ruined the event.
Yet that’s
exactly what the title of the Slate.com article told these people en masse. I
would send them the opposite message: How Slowpokes Made the Marathon.
We make
possible the 400-plus U.S. marathons each year. We’re the critical mass that
lets the young, skinny and fast call themselves “elite.”
Walt Stack, a
tough old San Franciscan who was slow before he had much company at that pace,
gave the best answer to the anti-slowpokes: “Be nice to us turkeys. We’re the
ones who make you look good.”
Later. Marathonguide.com shows no marathon
results for Gabriel Sherman from 2007 and later. Cathy Troisi and Bob Dolphin
completed dozens more marathons in those years. Better to run a slow one than
none, I say.
(Photo: Cathy Troisi is
among the “slowpokes” who have made the marathon deeper and richer.)
[Many books of mine, old
and recent, are now available in two different formats: in print and as ebooks
from Amazon.com. The titles: Going Far, Home Runs, Joe’s Team, Learning to
Walk, Long Run Solution, Long Slow Distance, Miles to Go, Pacesetters, Running
With Class, Run Right Now, Run Right Now Training Log, See How We Run, Starting
Lines, and This Runner’s World, plus Rich Englehart’s book about me, Slow Joe.]
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