From Pints to Pavement

Me in my younger days…

The first time it happened was about 14 years. Playing softball, a young fella – who I had at least a decade on, if not more – looked at me and said (fully meaning it as a compliment): you must have been really good when you were young.

Now, I can’t say I blame him for his comment. There were years of living etched on my face, the fact that on sunny days the shadow of my belly crossed first base well before me and the ever-present cigarette dangling from my mouth during the game: all gave any reasonable person cause to pause and wonder what once might have been. As new players joined, I learned to say: I’m quicker than I look.

As I’ve started running again, I’ve seen the same look: you ran how far and how fast? The underlying look being: ‘how does your poor body do that?’ Many, for sure, have experienced the same as attempts to get back into shape are made.

Lately, though, as people see the effect this newest healthy addiction has had the question has morphed into why? What possible motivation could there be for putting down the pint and hitting the pavement?

First, some history is needed.  Many years ago, I was showing my friend Cindy E. some pictures I’d come across while on holidays. She politely humoured me for a moment or two, then proceeded to wonder why she cared about these two long-haired, Motley-Crue t-shirt wearing, skinny guys with patchy facial hair. Cause the one with an ear-ring is yours truly, was the answer. Eyes back forth between pic and visage now in front of her, holding the picture border to cheek. Yep, she couldn’t see it.

But that skinny guy is how I always remember, nay, see myself. When it comes to running, it’s a memory of a 140 pounder finishing in the top 10 at GBSSA (an Ontario thing) in a pair of purple Nikes borrowed from Mr. Huddleston. When I went out to play a few matches last year with the Castaway Thirds, I guarantee no one else saw me as a winger – except me – when I hit the rugby pitch.

So that’s the frame. When Paralympian Michelle Stilwell says run the TC 10K it’s difficult to come up with a good excuse – especially as I still see the skinny guy and figure there will be a breakout and not to worry. Problem is it was getting harder and harder to make it happen.

Now, as they say, to the ‘moment’ of truth. Had managed to run the TC 10K again (albeit with slight knee injury), recovered enough from knee injury to go on rugby trip and play in Kelowna. So, was feeling pretty good about my athletic recuperative powers. But when I tried to put on suits that languished in the closest for months, small problem – either my drycleaner had shrunk them or I had, as my Nan always graciously said, filled out.

Worried about whether a button would come flying off my vest and take someone’s eye out was the motivation. Lose weight. Fit into clothes. Reacquaint with cheekbones. Set some targets, meet them but don’t stop if you’re not perfect.

So this will be my place to talk about being a fiftysomething who is trying to rediscover his inner-skinny and keep it around. It could be pet peeves, it could be how difficult ‘cold’ running is in Victoria. The trials of motivation or the frustration of plateaus may feature. Or why Voltaren is my friend, along with Advil, or what to eat. But I promise, this will be a Trump-free zone.