Humbling Conversation

While I was at the doctor for my shoulder, I took the opportunity to ask him about training with a heart rate monitor. It's such a new thing for me I need all the advice I can get.

I knew he was a runner - a marathoner, in fact - and since he's been my doctor for 9 years I figured he'd probably be able to give me solid advice that took my questionable medical status into consideration.

He's one of those unassuming guys that exudes a quiet confidence. He's tall and thin, nothing special to look at physically, but he's one of those guys that, once you learn they're an endurance athlete you're not surprised. It just kind of explains the thing you couldn't put your finger on, the thing that makes you like them even more than you already did.

Like I said, I knew he was a runner, and earlier this year I learned that his personal goal is a 3:30 marathon; he was disappointed with a 3:40-something performance last year. That sounded crazy fast to me, but I didn't think much about it other than thinking it was nice to have an idea of what kind of a runner he is.

He talks to me about running with enthusiasm and no condescension whatsoever. He makes me feel like I'm a Runner too, and it's easy to forget where he's at compared to me. Yesterday, to illustrate our conversation about heart rate training, he gave me some concrete numbers of his so I could understand more clearly the huge differences and why it's such a personalized training tactic.

Even though I truly am content to be a back of the packer, even though I'm honestly happy with just showing up and finishing considering my health, and even though I don't care one bit about winning races... while he talked I could feel myself slipping into humilation. Here I was, struggling to maintain a 13:00 pace, and he was telling me about how he was really frustrated with his performance in the Shamrock Shuffle because he only managed 6:45 miles (as opposed to his standard 6:30). But, he told me, he'd been injured so he didn't beat himself up about it (actually, that part of the conversation was about my injured shoulder and not expecting a great race performance in 10 days).

He said more than once that I need to not think about other people's times. Especially when they're someone like him - who, it turns out, is a top-ten age-grouper in the Chicago area, and has been a serious runner for probably longer than I've been alive. And I know he's right, but it's still tough sometimes to realize there are people running more than twice as fast as me who still think they're slow.

He was teasing me - said I needed to not be so competitive. I laughed and said I don't have a competitive bone in my body, but he said "oh yes you do!" Then he grinned, and it seemed he took real joy in explaining to me that now that I'm starting to see improvement, I'm becoming competitive with myself.

Can't argue with that one.

I was both both awed and humbled by what I learned in that conversation. And definitely inspired to keep working at it.