The title is not referring to 3rd place, age group. Rather, It’s referring to my new unit of yearly time measurement. In December 2006, Mrs. Nitmos gave me a Garmin 205. The modern running world began for me on that day. We are in the 3rd year of my Garmin based running life. Three years After Garmin – A.G.
I was going through my office desk the other day and ran across some old hand scribbled notes documenting past runs from my early running days sometime circa 2000-2001 (roughly 5 B.G.). It might as well have been cave hieroglyphics. What are all those crooked letters and numbers?
It took me awhile but I was finally able to decipher the runskrit language. Apparently, B.G., I used to keep track of distance and time by using ancient customs such as “memory” and “pencil and paper.” Weird, I know. Boy was I a backwards ass hick back then. You’d think I was from Ohio or something. I remember driving my running route with my car to get an idea on the distance based on the odometer – WHICH ONLY WENT TO THE 1/10 MILE decimal position. What a neanderthal! The really hilarious part is that I also remember being perfectly content with this at the time. After all, what’s the difference between 3.05 miles and 3.12 miles I thought then? (Answer: A PR and SOS2 achieving result. Duh.)
In order to keep track of events that occurred during my run, I’d bring chalk and draw a stick figure running person (with overly developed pecs and a pleasantly toned set of glutes, of course) on the sidewalk. If a dog attacked, I’d say “ooh oohh ahh ahh, hold my mirror” and then draw a picture of the running man being chased by a large fanged animal. This is how I recorded my running history. This is when I wore a Timex sports watch. (i.e. loin cloth)
I’ve evolved quite a bit since then. I don’t “write” down training runs anymore. Writing is for sloped forehead B.G.ers. I track my distance to the hundredth of a mile like a civilized person ensuring that I know exactly how close or how far I’m away from that PR. I’m no longer concerned with hunting and gathering my training runs. Data management and uploading results is more my game.
I stashed my relic running notes away for future marathoners to study. I’m sure they, with their permanently implanted chip constantly uploading data to a central running data computer, will find that and my bulky wrist Garmin, with manual Start-Stop, fairly primitive one day.
As much as I enjoy my Garmin and the steady stream of data it provides, I have caught myself dreaming of what it would be like to time myself in, say, thousandths, or even hundred-thousandths, of a mile. Sure, my last run finished in 5.25 miles. But was that really 5.2532 or 5.2537? And how does that impact my pace per mile? Who knows?
By 10 A.G., I may not need to push a single button. By 12 A.G., I may be able to track to the millionths of a second for each foot fall. Eventually, I may need to switch to a new unit of time: A.I. (After Implant.)
Those are developments for future generations of runners. For now, things look pretty good here in 3 A.G. At least, I don’t know what I missing. Yet.
If you aren’t reading Tall Girl Running, you should. The posts, while not as frequent as my crap, are always well written and pretty funny. Go there now. You’re welcome.
I actually met another run blogger last night. As it turns out, Running Spike basically shares a neighborhood with me. I was walking my dog just as he was running by. We exchanged greetings. I destroyed the momentum of his tempo run. It’s nice to know that at least one of you readers don’t appear to be someone who would boil my pets in water. Although, I have to admit, I was a bit disconcerted when he asked my dog’s name. And how she tastes with gravy.