PUBLISHED 09/19/2007
It's a simple question: "How far did you run today?" Runners ask it of each other, and nonrunners sometimes feign interest by asking about our distances.
The question means how far in miles. I never have a quick answer. Mine begins with, "Uhh...hmm...Let's see." Then I work some mental math that's never more than a wild guess. Ask me instead-"How long did you run?"-and I'll tell you instantly and accurately.
You see, I'm not a distance runner, I'm a time runner.
Time means a great deal to every runner. It means everything to me, because most days miles don't count; only minutes do.
Once a stern taskmaster of mine, time has become a good friend. It used to taunt me with impossible deadlines to beat but now offers satisfying quotas to meet.
Back when running with a reliable watch first became an option, I stepped into a time trap. Each course I ran was measured, each run timed, and each run a course-record attempt.
The records fell easily at first. Dozens of seconds peeled away with every running of a course, and I could hardly wait for my next chance to improve.
Eventually my speed neared its peak. My pursuit of records forced me to work ever harder to drop less and less time. These efforts came to feel like time trials, which are fun to run occasionally but not daily. Before long, this time trap I'd created snapped shut.
Arthur Lydiard offered an escape route. The coach from New Zealand told me in a 1970 interview that his runners, famous for their 100-mile weeks, now largely ignored mileage. They trained by time periods.
Mile-counting stopped for me then and has never resumed. Admittedly, I started running the Lydiard way for a practical reason-to keep my sacred records without having to bother to measure a course. But I've long since continued to run by the watch for better reasons: to ease off from the intensity and to make friends with time.
The natural urge when running for distance is to push harder and finish sooner-to race against time. When running to fill a time quota, however, the reverse happens. You can't make the time pass any faster by rushing, so you settle into a pace that feels right to you at the moment. You run as you feel and stop when you've met your quota.
When time is your running partner, a good watch is important. My current choice is a model that beeps at set intervals (I like to hear progress reports every 10 minutes) and the end. I turn it on at the start and off at the finish, and in between look at everything except the flickering numbers on my wrist. Almost any watch, however, will do the basic timing job. All you really need is one that freezes time at the end of your run.
That time is important. It gives a comforting illusion of permanence not found in running by the mile. The hours, minutes, and seconds stand as visible reminders that your effort put them there.
Savor those digits for a while, yes, but also pay special attention to the clearing of the watch before your next run. This numbers-cleansing act demonstrates a graphic and symbolic turning away from the past and moving ahead. Now you can refresh your time in a friendly way by running with the watch instead of against it.
