I’ve been a competitive athlete since my early teens. I ski raced at a high level, stood on podiums at criteriums, half Ironmans, and marathons. By the time I reached my mid-40s, I figured I had this whole endurance thing pretty well dialed in. Turns out…not so much.
Lately, that formula has been put to the test. Runs that used to feel effortless suddenly feel like work. My comfortable 7:30 pace isn’t so comfortable anymore, and I’m running out of gas earlier on long runs. My body has been trying to tell me something. For the first time in my life, I’ve decided it’s probably worth listening.
I don’t think my story is unique. At some point, every athlete has to accept that physiology isn’t interested in our opinions. By paying attention instead of fighting it, I’m learning new ways to support my running as I inch toward the half-century mark.
When I was younger, recovery was optional, or at least I treated it that way. I’d power through fatigue, stack hard workouts together, and run several days in a row without giving it a second thought. Turns out, overtraining is actually a thing. Who knew?
Nutrition matters. Sleep matters even more. If I don’t sleep well, recovery stalls, my mood tanks, and every run feels harder than it should. Twenty-five-year-old me could survive on stubbornness. Forty-seven-year-old me needs eight hours and maybe a nap. The biggest shift I’ve made is learning to trust my body instead of my watch.
Some days, fatigue shows up 30 minutes into a run, and I back off. Other days, I feel flat for the first few miles before everything clicks into place. I’ve stopped forcing every workout into what the training plan says it should be. These days I listen to my body, not Garmin, not Strava, not Runna.
Do I miss feeling like I did in my 20s? Absolutely. I also miss having hair that didn’t require strategic lighting. But while I may not move the same way, I have a much deeper appreciation for every mile I run and every turn of the pedals.
It’s no longer about chasing personal records every weekend. It’s about longevity.
Ironically, nothing makes me happier than watching those young men and women flying by, chasing podiums and setting PRs. I remember exactly what that felt like. And honestly, I’m happy they get to experience it.
A good friend of mine, Barry, who’s five years ahead of me and still an incredible athlete, warned me about this years ago. He told me his power numbers were slipping and that paces that once felt effortless at the same heart rate suddenly required real work. I remember thinking, “That’ll never happen to me.” Well, Barry…you were older, wiser, and annoyingly still just a little faster. You were right.
The science isn’t exactly shocking. VO2 max gradually declines with age. We lose muscle mass and power. But what I’ve noticed most isn’t a lab value, it’s the missing “pop.” That spring off the pavement. The effortless acceleration that’s simply harder to produce because my body can’t generate force the way it once could.
Oddly enough, that may not be a bad thing.
The all-out efforts I once recovered from overnight now flirt with injury. Hard workouts don’t just require grit anymore; they require patience afterward. Recovery isn’t the reward. Recovery is part of the training.
The lingering fatigue, aches, and sore tendons I’ve been dealing with are mostly self-inflicted. They come from the terrible toos: too much and too soon. At least I’ve figured out the “too soon” part. The “too much” part? We’re still negotiating.
My brain is convinced I’m 18 years old. My body keeps asking to see some identification. This isn’t an article about getting old or complaining that my best years are behind me. It’s about realizing that just because I may not stand on the podium as often doesn’t mean I can’t still be competitive or continue doing the sport I love.
It just means I have to be smarter. So here’s my plan.
Follow the 80/20 rule. Lift weights consistently because strength training may be the single best investment we can make as runners as we age. Protect aging tendons by managing training load instead of proving how tough I am. And jump. Yes, you heard me, jump! Plyometric training helps preserve the spring that makes running feel quick and efficient. Keep speed work because fast-twitch muscle fibers still matter, but stop pretending I need to match the workouts of my former college track athlete buddy at the oval. Prioritize sleep and recovery as seriously as intervals and long runs. Most importantly, be kind to myself.
A runner friend recently celebrated her 50th birthday. She summed it up perfectly. “I’m going to fight like heck to stay fast. But I’m also going to accept where I am.”
That stuck with me.
And even as I’ve had to change the way I train, I’ve still been able to chase big goals. At 46, I qualified for the Boston Marathon. I didn’t do it by training the way I did in my 20s. I did it by learning to train with the body I have now.
Maybe this stage of running isn’t about chasing podiums or the same goals I did when I was younger. Maybe it’s about setting new ones, showing up, staying healthy, and being grateful that I still get to lace up my shoes.
And honestly, that’s a pretty good journey too.
