The 5k Marathon

(This is a tree-face I regularly pass during my runs. It has nothing to do with this post.)

Standing at the starting line, my friend looked at me and asked, "What are you trying to do today?"

I replied, "No idea. I haven't been doing any speedwork, but I figure I can suffer for twenty minutes or so."

The starting horn sounds, and 200+ runners go charging through. My heart rate immediately shoots up, but my lungs and legs feel good. I even start to sweat within the first half-mile, despite the temperatures in the mid-30s. I realize early on that I'm employing a strategy I'd only read about: drafting. See, I'm what is commonly referred to as a "citizen runner" (not Yuki Kawauchi), someone generally in the middle of the pack, periodically taking home an age group award, but (almost--it happened once) never on the podium. Therefore, drafting isn't something that usually makes a heap of difference to me.

But this time was different. Although several inches shorter than me, Jimmy was the perfect guy to draft off of. We're friends; he's super-fit, so I knew he could hold a quicker pace; and he's an experienced runner. And as a fun detail, he sold me my first pair of running shoes. Ideal candidate. We press onward, even with the cold air punishing my lungs about halfway through, just in time for Jimmy to duck behind me. (Which, I'd like to add, is no fair, even if it is protocol in friendly racing to share the load.) Nearing the final stretch, I remembered a few years earlier when Jimmy told me he no longer had much of a finish kick; so on the final turn, I aim to leave everything on the course, crossing the finish line before my friend with a new (official) 5k PR.

As I often ask in these pages, so what? (I mean, really, no one cares much about a runner's PRs.) Why this memory today? The answer is that this is exactly the mentality several people are working through in the midst of the COVID-19 crisis. We're facing this with a 5k attitude, balls-to-the-walls, if  you will. Heart rate is sky high, breathing is taxed, mental stamina is mostly high alert, and we may even feel a bit panicked. But the problem is we actually have a marathon's distance to run. (Worse, we don't know how many miles we have to cover to the finish line.) And that's unsustainable, friends. As usual, I don't have many answers to this problem. Yet I'll do my part to slow things down, live more intentionally, prioritize differently, and encourage you to do the same.

There are tangible behaviors to enact, but you've probably read all about them and hopefully even started practicing them. In the interim, set up virtual meetings or happy hours with your friends to laugh, cry, tell stories, or just look at one another. And please remember, this is a marathon, so stop sprinting.