Morning, friends! ☀️

First, how did your miles over the weekend go? Are you starting to feel like you’re in the groove now? Are the miles coming easily, or is there anything you’re struggling with? (Remember, running at a conversational pace — not all out, all the time — is a good rule of thumb.)

Second, it was really cool to hear about some of the races you’re planning on running this fall; you shared some truly amazing runs you have coming up, everything from 5Ks and 10Ks to full marathons and even a few 100Ks (!). Seriously, the ambition just blows me away.

Here are our plans to get you ready for a half marathon by Thanksgiving or by late December, whichever you prefer/feel up to. Remember, don’t sweat it if you need to skip a day here and there; these plans are laid out so you can pick right up where you left off.

Don’t hesitate to reach out and let me know how it’s going — and, here are our miles for the upcoming week:

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Have a race/event on the calendar this fall you’re looking forward to? Where will it take place, and how is your training going?

And, if you’re struggling with something and need some help, you’ve come to the right place 😀 — Terrell

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Have you ever walked into a bookstore, ambled through the aisles for a while, and then your eyes happen to spot a book that makes you feel like time has stopped? Like you’ve been waiting to find it your whole life?

This past weekend, I traveled with my wife to Athens, Ga., to visit our daughter for parents’ weekend at UGA. We spent Sunday morning lazily wandering the neighborhood there known as Five Points, where I found a small bookstore named Ghost.

There, on the shelves at the back of the store, I happened upon a slim nonfiction book titled The Philosophy Cure, by a writer named Laurence Devillairs, who I’d later learn is the dean of the Faculty of Philosophy at the Institut Catholique de Paris in France.

I sat myself down in one of the store’s plush, comfy leather couches — with that slick-yet-soft surface that’s oh-so-easy to sink into — and started reading the first few pages.

Right away I was struck by the author’s angle: that philosophy isn’t something abstract, to merely ruminate about in the comfort of a lecture hall. On the contrary, she says, it’s a kind of medicine: “It even has the power to cure. But the question is knowing what it is that we are being cured of.”

Ahhh… well. Turns out, that’s a really big question for each of us, and a hard one to answer. In fact, it’s so hard that we shy away from it; it’s so much easier to tune out by scrolling social media or becoming caught up in the busy-ness of our lives. We’d rather push it off, thinking that someday we’ll get to those big questions — but there’s just too much urgent and immediate to worry about right now.

That’s a trap, Devillairs says. Recalling the ancient Greek philosopher Socrates and perhaps the most famous two words he ever spoke — “know thyself” — she says it’s critical for each of us to take the time to get to know ourselves; that we’re more than the sum of our actions and behaviors:

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Morning, friends! ☀️

Something I’ve been thinking about is that maybe it would be better if I shared each week’s miles with you at the start of the week, rather than the middle like I’ve been doing. So, look for these every Monday from today through the rest of the year.

With that in mind, below are the miles to run each day this week with off days listed — you won’t be running every day. If you’re following one of these plans, I’d love to hear how it’s going for you.

They’re designed to get you ready for a half marathon by Thanksgiving or by late December, whichever you prefer/feel up to. Don’t sweat it if you need to skip a day here and there; these plans are laid out so you can pick right up where you left off.

How did your miles go last week? Let me know — and, here are our miles for the upcoming week:

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It was a cold February day, almost 25 years ago.

I drove downtown, like I did every day, to the big glass building that housed the tech consulting company I worked for. I parked in the garage, took the elevator and then an escalator upstairs and badged in at the door, a routine so ingrained I could do it in my sleep.

Everything was quiet, much quieter than usual. Back then, each of us had an office phone at our desk — remember those? — which had a tiny red light that blinked when you had a message.

But most of us rarely, if ever, used them. Why call when you can email? So mostly they sat silent, stoic, untouched.

That morning as I walked through the still-dark office, though, I noticed tiny red lights blinking everywhere. On this phone, and that one, and that one way over there.

When I got to my desk, my phone was blinking too. So I picked up and listened to the voicemail, which told me I had an appointment in about fifteen minutes. It included the room number, and said to bring my laptop.

I arrived at the room to find two of my co-workers, seated on opposite sides of a table. There was an empty chair, which I assumed was meant for me. So I sat down, and immediately I could hear each of them exhale a little, a hint of the bad news they were about to deliver.

As you’ve probably guessed, they told me I was being laid off, along with several dozen of my other co-workers. It was 2002 and the tech bubble was still bursting, and so they didn’t have much choice.

None of this reflected on me, they assured me, but — as you probably know if you’ve been in this situation — it was pretty cold comfort. The meeting was short; I signed a couple of papers and they gave me a severance check, then followed me to my desk where I gathered up the few belongings I’d kept there.

And then, that was it. I was no longer an employee there, I wouldn’t see my friends who worked there anymore, none of it was a part of my life anymore.

I didn’t know it then, but that morning marked a huge turning point. Where one part — one act, if you will — of my life ended and another began.

All the years leading up to that day, everything had been up — I’d been growing up, going to school, going to college, graduating and getting a job. Then that job led to a better job, and the next job led to a better job still. Things kept looking, well, up.

After that, though, my life went sideways. For a while I drifted — well, first I took my severance check and spent it on a trip visiting friends across the country, driving from Atlanta all the way out to California. But eventually, of course, I had to come back.

What was waiting for me was square one — I had no job, not much money, no real discernible reason for getting out of bed in the morning. Life is short, as they say, but the days really are long. How to fill all that suddenly free time?

I was 31 years old and it was tough for me then; I have friends who are in their mid-50s now and having to start over in new jobs, new relationships, new living arrangements. (In fact, I’m one of them, as I was laid off from my old job and — thankfully! — found a new one at the start of this year.)

In When Harry Met Sally, there’s a wonderful line Billy Crystal’s Harry says to Meg Ryan’s Sally at the end of the movie, when at last he realizes he’s head-over-heels in love with her:

“I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

This is just a line from a movie, I know, but when we lose something big in our lives — a job, a partner, anything — we want it back, you know? We want the security back, we want to be back on the path we were on. As soon as possible.

At the time, I didn’t understand that the first act of my life had ended and the second was beginning. I tried to hold on to that first act, I think, maybe a little too tightly. I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.

Now, it’s (almost) a quarter-century later and, at times, I wonder if I’ve come to a similar hinge moment in my life. I’m 55 years old; my oldest is about to graduate from college this spring and my youngest will become a teenager in just a few weeks.

Are there other things I need to be doing? Are there parts of my life I’ve given enough energy to, and are there new directions I should aim for?

These are the thoughts that swirl in the back of my mind when I walk and when I run (which has been a rare thing lately). But still, I lace up and get out there, and try to figure it all out.

How about you? As always, keep in touch and let me know how your running/life is going.

Your friend,

— Terrell

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Training miles for this week

So how did your 17 miles go last week? (If you’re following the 12-week training plan.) And if you’re following the plan to run a half by the end of the year, how did your 13 miles go?

This week, you’ll notice we add two miles to the 12-week plan and three miles to the 16-week plan:

Here’s how our next week looks for the 12-week plan:

• Thursday, Sept. 17 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Saturday, Sept. 19 — 5 miles/50-55 minutes

• Sunday, Sept. 20 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Tuesday, Sept. 22 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Wednesday, Sept. 23 — 5 miles/40-45 minutes

And for the 16-week plan:

• Thursday, Sept. 17 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Saturday, Sept. 19 — 5 miles/50-55 minutes

• Sunday, Sept. 20 — 4 miles/40-45 minutes

• Tuesday, Sept. 22 — 4 miles/40-45 minutes

• Wednesday, Sept. 23 — off

And for the 10-mile training plan:

• Thursday, Sept. 17 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Saturday, Sept. 19 — 4 miles/40-45 minutes

• Sunday, Sept. 20 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Tuesday, Sept. 22 — 4 miles/40-45 minutes

• Wednesday, Sept. 23 — off

Let me know how it goes, and don’t hesitate to reach out! — Terrell

I like to think of myself as a good person. (You probably do too, I imagine.) To be honest, it’s not something I think about a lot; at the age I am now, 55, most days I don’t even question it.

But sometimes there are moments — not often, just every now and then — when I ask myself, “well, are you sure? Would you even know if you weren’t?”

Most of us, most of the time, fall into habits of thinking, habits of being. You have to in order to get along in the world, don’t you? We all need a working model of who we are, and how the world works, so that we don’t become paralyzed with decision anxiety over every little thing.

The habits we acquire, though, have a way of becoming second nature to the degree that we aren’t even aware of them. We simply move through the world, acting the way we act and thinking the way we think, without giving them a second thought.

Sometimes you realize, maybe that’s not good enough. Even though you’ve made it this far in life just fine, thank you very much, maybe you need to take a look at yourself and ask, “is what I’m doing still working?”

Recently, I stumbled across an article on Benjamin Franklin’s Autobiography, which you’ve almost certainly heard of in history class, and which Franklin first sat down to write in 1771 and kept working on until his death in 1790.

The book starts in his childhood and ends with Franklin at age 52; he’d live another 32 years — three of the most consequential decades in American history — so presumably he would have covered more if he’d had the chance.

What struck me as I revisited the Autobiography is that for Franklin — often described as history’s best example of a “self-made” man — that wasn’t just a lofty, abstract ambition. He literally wrote down the ways he wanted to improve himself, setting goals and measuring his progress toward them.

Franklin was 20 years old when he did this; he’d attended school until he was 10, but his father didn’t have the money to pay for his education beyond that. So, he made up for what he lacked by reading voraciously while also working as a printer and newspaperman, swimming in the political and philosophical currents of his day.

At that point in his (still young) life, Franklin believed he knew right from wrong, that he knew what a good life was. It’s just that simple, right? Not exactly, he tells us:

“As I knew, or thought I knew, what was right and wrong, I did not see why I might not always do the one and avoid the other. But I soon found I had undertaken a task of more difficulty than I imagined.”

Franklin knew himself well enough; temptation pulled at him constantly, in every conceivable way. (Yes, in all the ways you’re imagining!) He was bound to lose his way, he feared, if he didn’t make a conscious choice to improve himself.

So when he sat down to write out a plan, he called on everything he’d ever read: religious, classical and philosophical texts, distilling their lessons into what he labeled the “thirteen necessary virtues”:

1. TEMPERANCE. Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation.

2. SILENCE. Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation.

3. ORDER. Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time.

4. RESOLUTION. Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve.

5. FRUGALITY. Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; i.e., waste nothing.

6. INDUSTRY. Lose no time; be always employ’d in something useful; cut off all unnecessary actions.

7. SINCERITY. Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if you speak, speak accordingly.

8. JUSTICE. Wrong none by doing injuries or omitting the benefits that are your duty.

9. MODERATION. Avoid extremes; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve.

10. CLEANLINESS. Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, cloaths, or habitation.

11. TRANQUILLITY. Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable.

12. CHASTITY. Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dulness, weakness, or the injury of your own or another’s peace or reputation.

13. HUMILITY. Imitate Jesus and Socrates.

Seeing these, all listed, hit me like a bolt of lightning. That’s because I often catch myself in thought, wishing this or that thing had gone differently in my day, wondering what I might have done differently. Those thoughts always evaporate, though, never to be heard from again.

What if I were to sit down and actually take an inventory of myself, and figure out the things I wanted to improve — and then actually try them? Take one virtue and practice it each week, just like Franklin did?

Some of his virtues I can easily see where I need work; others I think I’ve probably nailed by now. (But maybe not, who knows?)

Have you ever tried something like this in your own life? Made an inventory, and then attempted to make the changes that inventory called for?

I’d love to hear your story — as always, keep in touch and let me know how your running/life is going.

Your friend,

— Terrell

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How did your running go over the past week? Especially if you’re following one of the training plans I listed last week, how did it go?

Here’s how our next week looks for the 12-week plan:

• Thursday, Sept. 10 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Saturday, Sept. 12 — 4 miles/40-45 minutes

• Sunday, Sept. 13 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Tuesday, Sept. 15 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Wednesday, Sept. 16 — 4 miles/40-45 minutes

And for the 16-week plan:

• Thursday, Sept. 10 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Saturday, Sept. 12 — 4 miles/40-45 minutes

• Sunday, Sept. 13 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Tuesday, Sept. 15 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Wednesday, Sept. 16 — off

If you’d like to run a 10-miler instead…

• Thursday, Sept. 10 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Saturday, Sept. 12 — 3 miles/40-45 minutes

• Sunday, Sept. 13 — 2-3 miles/20-30 minutes

• Tuesday, Sept. 15 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Wednesday, Sept. 16 — off

Want to keep going? Become a subscriber

If you’re using and enjoying the training plans each week, I hope you’ll consider becoming a full subscriber — after this week, they’ll be available only to paying subscribers.

You’ll get a special Sunday issue with amazing races you’ll love running, plus lots more interaction with our amazing community that’s spread all around the U.S. and the world.

All you need to do is click/tap this button to join us!

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About fifteen or so years ago, long before this newsletter was even a twinkle in my eye, a friend of mine would give me a call right around this time of year.

“Terrell, you know what time it is, right?”

I’d pause, then remember. “Oh no,” I’d think to myself, laughing. “Not again.”

“Yep,” he’d say. “It’s time.”

“Do we really have to?” I’d reply. “Wasn’t last spring enough?”

“Oh that was just the warm-up, my friend,” he’d say, or something like it. “Now it’s time to get out there again… so get those running shoes ready and meet us this weekend, because we’re doing this.”

And thus would begin our journey, along with a few other friends, over the next three months as we trained for a race together; usually it was a half marathon, sometimes a little longer. (We even ran a 21-miler once.)

We followed this ritual every fall for a few years, and while I loved it, I also slightly dreaded it — because it had been so nice being lazy all summer.

I imagine you might be feeling exactly the same right now. It can be so hard to get going again once inertia kicks in; a body at rest prefers to stay at rest, doesn’t it?

Not to mention, this year — especially this summer — may have brought challenges you weren’t expecting. Maybe it’s just the god-awful heat so many of us are experiencing (hand raised here) or maybe it’s a job change that’s disrupted your routine (hand raised again).

Whatever it is, I feel you. My running routine is all of out of kilter thanks to a combination of all of the above, which means I haven’t been feeling like myself lately. And I’ve been needing to get back to some semblance of it.

Two people I’ve spoken with recently for interviews here — Charles Zuckerman and Abby Heffern — have been on my mind a lot lately. The thoughts they’ve shared around how they’ve adjusted their routines to match their stage of life — to deal with the reality they’re actually experiencing — have really made me think.

Sometimes, you can’t give running your best — but, you can give it something. You can keep your toe in the water, so you’ll be ready for the times when you can give more to it, and get more out of it.

Ever seen the 1992 movie A River Runs Through It? If so, then you remember the reverence the main character and narrator, Norman Maclean, has for the rivers of his home state of Montana, and for fly fishing.

He learns that reverence from his father, who taught both he and his brother Paul the art of fishing as if they were training for the priesthood. (And their father, in fact, was a Presbyterian minister.)

Around the middle of the movie, Norman’s girlfriend Jessie asks him to take her brother Neal fly fishing with him and Paul, in hopes of helping them get to know her family a little better. Reluctantly, Norman agrees.

But Neal, unaccustomed to the ways of the Maclean clan, gets drunk and stays out all night; when morning rolls around and it’s time to go fishing, he can barely keep his eyes open, much less cast a line.

Norman and Paul decide to fish on their own, leaving Neal in their car to sleep it off. The day doesn’t get any better, and once they’re done, it dawns on Norman how unhappy Jessie will be.

There’s one, brief throwaway line in this scene, though, that for some reason has always stuck with me, since the first time I saw the movie. It comes when Brad Pitt’s Paul Maclean, searching for some way to salvage the day, says, “hey brother, let’s say we come back tomorrow, and wipe this day off the books.”

That’s what I’d like to use this fall for. No matter what I’ve been through or how I haven’t been able to get out there, maybe — just maybe — we all can start fresh, and wipe yesterday off the books, you know?

How about you? Where are you with your running? With your fitness? Are you where you want to be, or has life thrown you a curveball recently?

I’d love to hear, either in replies back or in the comments — as always, keep in touch!

Your friend,

— Terrell

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Our training plans!

As promised, I’ve put together a couple of different half marathon training plans we’ll use to run together over the next few months. (If you’d like one for another distance, like the 10-mile or the marathon, let me know.)

Run a half by Thanksgiving

For those of us who’d like to run 13.1 miles by Thanksgiving, our plan starts with tomorrow’s three-mile run — and, to the day, is timed for exactly 12 weeks before Thanksgiving.

It’s a five-day-a-week plan, and looks like this:

• Thursday, Sept. 3 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Saturday, Sept. 5 — 4 miles/40-45 minutes

• Sunday, Sept. 6 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Tuesday, Sept. 8 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Wednesday, Sept. 9 — 4 miles/40-45 minutes

Or, run a half by the end of the year

For those of us who can’t devote five days a week to training, I’ve put together a 16-week plan, which ends on December 23:

• Thursday, Sept. 3 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Saturday, Sept. 5 — 4 miles/40-45 minutes

• Sunday, Sept. 6 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Tuesday, Sept. 8 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Wednesday, Sept. 9 — off

For the full training plan, become a subscriber

For the next couple of weeks, I’ll include each week’s training miles in our weekly Wednesday newsletter. After that, they’ll be for paying subscribers only. If you’d like to continue with us beyond that, I hope you’ll sign up.

You’ll get a special Sunday issue with amazing races you’ll love running, plus lots more interaction with our amazing community that’s spread all around the U.S. and the world.

All you need to do is click/tap this button to join us!

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Morning, friends! ☀️ You’ll notice a few changes to the Sunday newsletter today, as I’ve begun playing around with the format. A lot will be familiar, some things will be new; as always, feel free to share any feedback with me. I’m all ears! — Terrell

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I’ve sent out weekly training plans — for different schedules/dates, from a 12-week to an 18-week training plan — and we’ve run them together each week.

My question is, are you up for that again? I’d love to get your input, as making it a group endeavor makes it a lot of fun — but we don’t have to. I just thought I’d throw that out there in case you’d like to.

Let me know your thoughts! — Terrell

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I’m really excited to share today’s interview with you, as we hear from someone who’s close to my own age, and whose sense of what’s possible inspired me with every word he shared.

Today you meet , an architect-designer-contractor who has traveled the world with his wife and children, running really every distance you can imagine — from 10Ks to 50Ks to marathons to ultras.

His enthusiasm for running — and for staying in shape in general — came in very early middle age, when a doctor put him on Lipitor at age 36. Determined to get off the medication, which his doctor had said was highly unlikely, he started taking his health seriously in a way he never had before.

The rest, as they say, is history — and so I won’t babble on any longer. I hope you have as much fun reading Charles’s story as I did, and as always, I’d love to hear yours too! — Terrell

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So, let’s hear a little bit about you! Who are you, your age (if you’d like to share), where you’re from, what you do, etc.

My name is Charles Zuckerman and I am 58 years old. I come from the Boston suburb of Brookline but have lived in Niger, Germany, Romania, Wisconsin and Texas. For the last 28 years I have called San Francisco home.

I have been married for 32 years. I met [my wife] Mihaela back-packing through Romania and she is the reason I stayed there for a year. We have two wonderful daughters.

I am a licensed architect in the state of California and have worked as a designer, general contractor and owners’ representative. I retired in 2021 but recently came out of retirement to help two friends with an architectural software start-up.

But while that is what I did, that is not really who I am. What I am is someone who likes to explore the world in which I find myself and look into all the interesting and fascinating corners which abound inside and out.

Al Arnold, the first runner to make the intrepid trip from Badwater Basin in Death Valley to the summit of Mount Whitney, and thus inspired the annual Badwater ultramarathon, used to walk for hours in his back yard.

A neighborhood kid asked, “how big is your back yard?” His answer: “how big is your mind?” I think I tended to that point of view since I was young but I have strived for it ever since I read it.

What does your running routine look like? How many times a week, and how far do you run?

My running routine has varied significantly in the many years I have been running. I discovered ultra running around 2006 and prepped for my first 100-miler in 2008. I was up to 100 miles a week then.

In those years, I joined a gym where I worked and would run there 10 to 15 miles a day with a knapsack between 3:30 and 5:30 in the morning, stretch, do weights when the gym opened, and then shower and go to work.

After I changed jobs, I would do short morning runs and leave work early on Friday for the trails in the Headlands of Marin. There I would run from 4 in the afternoon until 2 in the morning, reserving Saturday and Sunday for my kids.

But now I have dialed it back to four days a week between 6 and 10 miles. Most often, my wife and I will head down to Crystal Springs reservoir and hike six miles to the far end. I then run back to the car. While waiting for her to hike back, do some stretching and strength work.

Were you an athletic kid growing up? What are your early memories of what fitness and health were about?

God, no! In fact, one of my earliest memories was the old presidential physical fitness tests. I couldn’t do a pull-up.

I remember fourth grade, trying to run the 660-yard test and being unable to finish. I was quite pudgy at the time (I would have said fat but I think that overstates it, looking at photos). But I always walked a lot.

After my freshman year of high school year, my parents signed me up for a four-week summer youth bike ride in Nova Scotia. One weekend, I convinced two friends to bike from Boston to Fall River to see the Battle Ship Massachusetts, a ride of 70 miles or so.

Boy was my dad surprised — [he was] outwardly angry, but I could tell there was some pride too — when we called collect to be picked up. It was then that I realized that endurance was a part of overall fitness and a place that I excelled.

How did you first get into running? Was there something that inspired you — like a performance at the Olympics, for example, or a runner you discovered by watching them on social media or TV? Or was there someone in your own life who inspired you to think, ‘maybe I can do this?’

Two separate times, two separate events.

When I was studying architecture at the University of Texas, my entire studio used to spend hours sitting at our desks drafting and eating crap. We were all young enough to maintain residual fitness but we all new it wasn’t healthy.

There was a woman in our studio who had run a marathon in undergraduate school and suggested that we all train together for the 1998 Austin Marathon. Many of us signed up and began training.

One by one people fell off, but three of us made it through finals before Christmas break on the plan. I was shocked when I returned for spring semester and found out I was the only one who stuck with it through the holidays. I was the only one who made it to the starting line. Four hours and six minutes later, I was a marathon runner.

I continued to run for the remainder of my graduate student life (including another Austin Marathon), but fell off the bus when I started working in San Francisco. Just like in school, I sat at a desk eating greasy fast food and working long hours. My wife and I had our two daughters and time was scarce.

The I went for a routine check-up. I was 36 years old, 238 pounds. My cholesterol was bad, my blood pressure borderline.

But the worst was my triglycerides. Healthy is sub 150. Mine were 706! My doctor put me on Lipitor. When I asked if I could correct it with diet and exercise, she informed me no, maybe lifestyle can move it 25 percent — but mine was hereditary.

My pencil-thin mother had just had a heart attack and one of my cousins numbers were worse than mine, so it made sense. But I refused to take no for an answer. I started to jog again and limited my calories to 1,500 per day with only 10 percent from fats.

I also joined the gym I mentioned, downstairs from my work. They assigned a coach for five free sessions to see if they could hook me — it worked.

Brian was an ultra-runner training for the Western States Endurance Run. I decided, if it was all downhill after age 40, I wanted to be at the top of a big f*cking hill and set running 100 miles as a goal.

Brian was instrumental in getting me there but on the way, I rediscovered how good I am at endurance efforts and how much I love running in the woods. I ran the Headlands Hundred in 2008 and haven’t looked back.

How has your interest in running evolved since then? Do you run farther, or faster now?

I neither run farther nor faster now. I recorded my fastest times fairly early on during my second incarnation as a runner. My fastest marathon, 50K, 50-miler, 100K and 100-miler were all between the ages of 39 and 41.

For a long time, I actually thought I might get a sub-3-hour marathon (3:10 was my best but I was still pulling off 3:30s into my fifties). But I think those days are behind me.

Instead of pushing speed, I decided to push activity and distance barriers, completing the California Death Ride in 2013, the Sonoma Ironman in 2018 and the Badwater 135 in 2023. My efforts evolved into fitness goals with some peak event every five years. In the fall of 2024, I had my left hip replaced but I am back up to comfortably doing 50Ks and am now trying to figure out what to do in 2028 to celebrate turning sixty.

What do you balance your running with? Do you have a family to take care of? Kids, parents or other relatives or loved ones? If so, how do you balance all of it and still make time to run/care for yourself?

This balance is often the trickiest part. For the vast majority of time I have been running and biking, I have always worked it into a part of my commute. In general, I would run or bike to work early in the morning so my evenings were free.

My long runs have traditionally been Friday nights or very early Saturday to free up the weekends as family/recovery time. My children are also athletic and growing up they often had swim meets around the Bay Area.

On those days, I would bike to their meets. For the furthest ones (like Salinas, which is a ride of about 110 miles), I would leave the house at 2 or 3 in the morning to get there by 11.

Sometimes work would take me to Sacramento for afternoon meetings. In those cases, I would take the first BART train to the end of the line and bike to the meetings. And when I worked at the San Francisco International airport, it was a nice 10-mile run to the office.

One important job factor for me is always to have access to a shower. Once, when planning out the job site trailer for a major project in Mountain View, my boss added a shower to the temporary work facility plans after he saw me arrive after biking in the morning.

By combining my commutes with my exercise goals, I managed to always keep my evenings and most weekends free for the fam.

Is there anything you’re especially proud of that you can point to your running and say, ‘this helped me achieve ______’?

Six months after starting the crazy diet and exercise routine I mentioned, I got off Lipitor. All my health markers have been in the good to excellent range ever since. I am not too concerned with lifespan, but I want a great health span.

I also have found that I do my best thinking when I am out running. Just recently I came up with an idea to use my new company’s platform with another start-up in the AI space to extend the lifecycle of our initial product while simultaneously extending the other company’s market footprint. Running outside the box frees my thinking to be outside the box.

What have you learned about yourself from your running journey? Is there anything that’s changed about you since you started?

It is a little bit of a chicken-and-egg question. I have developed incredible mental stamina. My ability to focus for long periods of time on one thing often even surprises me.

That said, I was always getting lost in thought as a kid, drawing and looking up to discover several hours had gone by. Was I drawn to running because of my propensity to be single-minded or did I strengthen that muscle by running stupid long distances? Not sure which came first!

Where would you like to go with your running? Is there anything special you’d like to achieve — like, say, running all six World Marathon Majors, or running an ultra?

At 58, I am under no illusion that I am on the long slow decline. I am not sure getting faster or longer are really in the cards at this point.

But keeping goals is still really incredibly important to me. As I mentioned, having five-year goals has always been a priority and I am now in the throes of figuring out my 60th year challenge.

Originally I thought a double Badwater would be the ticket but I am starting to tac to something else: the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim. I have done South Rim to River to Rim.

I was driving a U-haul across country and decided to stop in Flagstaff for an extra night to do it on the spur of the moment but needed to buy micro-spikes (Early March - Ice). The store on the Rim didn’t open until 8:00 a.m., so I got started too late to do the whole thing.

There are also several races scattered around the world that I would love to do as part of vacationing with my wife. Ever since 2009, I have wanted to do the Sunrise to Sunset Marathon in Mongolia (100K, the Grand Raid in Reunion, the Marathon Des Sables in Morocco, the Canal Races in England — just to name a few.

What keeps you going? Especially if you’ve been running for a while — do you ever get bored with it? How do you find new things to motivate you, to keep you going?

I don’t really get bored, but sometimes if I take too long a break, I am sluggish starting up again. Residual fitness just doesn’t last like it used to.

But in a strange way, that is what keeps me going. I love to travel. I love adventure. In the last 15 months, I have had the joy of visiting Greece, China and Albania. Even if not going for a run, fitness is a key part for squeezing every moment of adventure out of every opportunity.

Two years ago, my wife and I were at a destination wedding for a nephew outside Mexico City at New Year’s. Three nights in a row, we were out dancing until the place shut down.

When it ended we flew to Chetumal and rented a car to drive to the Mayan ruins at Calakmul four hours into the jungles of central Yucatan. We spent two days climbing pyramids and exploring places most people never get to.

These adventures are only possible by staying fit and able. I watch the world get smaller as people get older. I never want my world to stop expanding.

Look back at yourself when you were a kid, maybe say 10 years old. Remember how you felt, what you thought, especially what you thought you were capable of back then. If you could talk to that kid now, what would you say?

I was not a happy kid — particularly between the ages of about 10 and 17. I saw every glass as half empty. I felt like I didn’t fit in. I was bad at sports and not athletic. Although plenty capable, I hated school and my grades reflected that.

I guess I would say to my former self, just stay curious, stay inquisitive. Remember, we live in three planes: the past, the present and the future. Relish the story telling that depends on your greatest memories.

Plan for the future, give yourself the means and tools to get to where you want to go. But live in the moment. Enjoy the wind blowing an insect across your path. Find one thing every day as you fall asleep that brought you a moment of joy that day.

Be present in what you are doing as you do it. Doing so will turn the goodness of tomorrow into a self fulfilling prophesy and the story-telling tomorrow of what you did yesterday into a great day with your friends.

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“Maybe ye don’t know it, Mr. Herriot, but this is the best time of your life.”

“Do you think so?”

“Aye, there’s no doubt about it. When your children are young and growin’ up around ye — that’s when it’s best. It’s the same for everybody, only a lot o’ folk don’t know it and a lot find out when it’s too late. It doesn’t last long, you know.”

— James Herriot, The Lord God Made Them All

It’s a cliché, of course, but it’s true: you always look at your children the way they were when they were little — like the photo above, in which my now almost-13-year-old son was still just five, and I took him fishing at a pond near our house.

That’s why it wasn’t all that surprising when he asked me earlier this week, “Dad, is it hard for you seeing me as grown up now?”

(Of course, he’s not grown up all the way yet, but in his mind he might as well be.)

“Yeah, it is,” I replied. “But I’m starting to make my peace with it.” Because at a certain point, your only real choice is to accept it, you know?

Then he said something I didn’t expect: “Well, I hope you haven’t made too much peace with it.”

What I think he meant was, while he’s ready for the power-ups that come with growing up — and a phone is right at the top of that list, which I’ll get to in just a sec — he still likes being a kid, he’s not ready for all that comes with being a teenager just yet.

He’s seen quite a few episodes of Seinfeld with me. But this summer, we also went to see — his choice — the new live-action Moana, The Mandalorian and Grogu, and Toy Story 5, among others.

(We also saw and really liked Spider Man: Brand New Day, though I could’ve done with a little less swearing; but hey, that’s just me.)

So, he still has one foot in kid-dom, even though every day he gets closer to becoming an adolescent. It happens little by little; you notice a different tone in their voice, a little more assertiveness in their step.

You ask yourself, “what was that I heard?” (Though you know exactly what it was, because it’s the same way you acted when you were that age.)

A friend of mine once likened raising kids to someone giving you a glass of sweet tea. It’s perfect, and for the longest time, you can’t imagine it being different. Over time, though, you start to notice hints of something else; did someone pour unsweet tea in here by mistake?

Year by year, there’s a little more in there, then a little more. And then one day, the sweetness is all gone. This is okay, my friend told me; it’s just a phase, and it’s one you’ll learn to roll with — and, fingers crossed, will open the door to a new kind of relationship.

It doesn’t mean, though, that you won’t feel nostalgia for the old one. And the old one has been pretty great this past year, as little T and I have spent much of it outside in our backyard: playing football, basketball and now baseball/Wiffle ball as each season has changed.

We’ve played almost daily, and there haven’t been any alerts pinging and buzzing a device in his pocket all that time, because there hasn’t been a device there to buzz.

In the not too distant future, though — very likely this fall — there will be. With him, we’re fast approaching the age when basically every kid has a phone; most of his friends have one now, and the few that don’t will very soon.

As you might imagine, I’m torn. There’s a part of me that would like to throw my own phone in the ocean, as I know I’ve struggled with using it too much at times. (Maybe a little more than “at times” if I’m being honest.)

But I’m also persuaded by the argument that we need to prepare kids for how to interact with the digital world, not pretend it doesn’t exist. So, we take all the advice we’ve heard and seen, and we try to figure out a path that’s best for us.

And meanwhile, we try to hold on to the “sweet tea” days as much as we can. It’s hard not because I think my son is, on the day we get him a phone, suddenly become a different person. Not at all.

Rather, it’s because I know he’ll be taking his first big step into the whole teenager thing. It’ll unfold slowly, I know, but maybe neither one of us is quite ready for all the changes that will surely come.

But come they will, right? If you have any advice for this phase — or really anything! — I’d love to hear it. As always, keep in touch and let me know how your running/life is going.

Your friend,

— Terrell

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A few months ago, I wrote to you about the joy and beauty of simply being, about how much I enjoy “doing nothing and resting afterwards,” as someone I know once described it to me.

There’s a passage in the essay that particularly called to me, by the philosopher Bertrand Russell, which I’ll recap in full for you now:

Like most of my generation, I was brought up on the saying “Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do.” Being a highly virtuous child, I believed all that I was told and acquired a conscience which has kept me working hard down to the present moment. But although my conscience has controlled my actions, my opinions have undergone a revolution. I think that there is far too much work done in the world, that immense harm is caused by the belief that work is virtuous, and that what needs to be preached in modern industrial countries is quite different from what always has been preached.

To be clear, I still very much agree with this — in spirit.

However, the reality of my life (and, I’d imagine, yours too) is that I still need to work. I need to bring home a salary and provide for my family, as I have kids in college and still in grade school. The people who collect the bills we pay… well, they aren’t going to be interested in my thoughts on Bertrand Russell for very long, you know?

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When I first started writing here on Substack eight years ago, there weren’t that many of us. A few people writing about tech and business and politics, but that was mainly it. So, one of the really cool things to see is how much it has grown since then, bringing in people of all walks of life and all areas of interest.

Especially fun has been the growth of running-focused newsletters here, everyone from to to to — all of whom I’ve gotten to know and chat with, and consider friends today.

That’s why I’m really excited to introduce you to , a running coach and (very!) accomplished runner whose work and writing I’ve gotten to know and love over this summer, and who has been an inspiration to me as I get my running back in gear.

She writes a newsletter worth checking out, in which she shares what motivates her as well as her story of how she got here. I know you’ll love it too! — Terrell

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So, let’s hear a little bit about you! Who are you, your age (if you’d like to share), where you’re from, what you do, etc.

I’m Abby Heffern. I’m 31 years old and I’ve lived in South Florida for the past eleven years, but I’m originally from New Jersey. At the end of this year, I’m planning to move to Central Florida to be closer to better trails and a larger trail running community!

I’m a trail runner, 14-time ultramarathoner, and online running and strength coach through my own coaching business, Wild Dog Athletics.

Before taking my coaching fully online, I ran Wild Dog Athletics as a brick-and-mortar personal training gym for almost five years, where I worked with runners in person on both their running and strength training.

What does your running routine look like? How many times a week, and how far do you run?

I run five days a week, and how far I run depends on what race I have coming up! With my next race being a 50K in November, I’m at about 40 to 45 miles per week right now, with a three-hour long run on the weekends. I also strength train three days a week.

But my running routine hasn’t always looked that way! I’ve been ultrarunning for seven years, and when I first started, I was only running two to three days a week.

As I’ve gotten stronger and fitter — and fallen more and more in love with running — I’ve slowly increased how often I run, how long my long runs are, and my weekly mileage.

I mean, think about it: it took me seven years to go from running 2 to 3 days a week to five! Training in a way that’s sustainable and allows me to stay healthy and excited has always been my number one priority.

Were you an athletic kid growing up? What are your early memories of what fitness and health were about?

I was an athletic kid! I’ve always loved sports. I ran track and cross country, but mostly just for fun on the side of my main sport, which was equestrian/show jumping.

I was a competitive equestrian for almost 20 years and worked professionally managing barns and riding horses for other people through college. It was my life, my calling, and my biggest passion until I graduated from college and started to feel disillusioned by the politics of the sport and the financial demands of pursuing it professionally.

I decided to walk away, which is when I started leaning more into running as an outlet for my competitive drive.

I credit my time with horses for so much of what I now bring to trail and ultrarunning: my work ethic, resiliency, competitiveness, love for monotony and grunt work, for the outdoors, and for moving freely and wildly over the earth.

How did you first get into running? Was there something that inspired you — like a performance at the Olympics, for example, or a runner you discovered by watching them on social media or TV? Or was there someone in your own life who inspired you to think, ‘maybe I can do this?’

While I’ve been running since I started track and cross country in middle school, I didn’t really get into it until I graduated from college and was looking for something to fill the void left by quitting competitive show jumping.

Even when I wasn’t racing and was still mostly focused on horses, I would run after long, exhausting days at the barn. It was how I decompressed, managed stress, re-grounded myself, and got some time alone with my thoughts to work through things.

So naturally, when I found myself in an identity crisis after walking away from a passion I’d had for 20 years, running was the first thing I leaned on. It didn’t just give me an outlet for my competitive drive — it also helped me cope with the disappointment and frustration of my riding career not turning out the way I’d dreamed.

I started with a few 5Ks here and there. Then it was 10Ks, half marathons, and eventually marathons. While I was training for marathons, I stumbled across a seven-mile trail race online and thought it looked like a fun way to switch up all the road running.

I expected it to be a one-time thing. Instead, I fell in love with the trail and got completely hooked on trail running.

At that race, I also met runners doing the 50- and 100-mile distances, which was my first introduction to ultrarunning. Seeing how strong, positive, and determined those runners were made me want to be that way too.

I’d say the runners I met at that first seven-mile trail race were some of my biggest inspirations early on. So much so that I came back the very next year and ran the 50-mile distance — my first ultra.

That was seven years ago, and I’ve been running ultras ever since.

How has your interest in running evolved since then? Do you run farther, or faster now?

I’ve always felt drawn to running farther. Ever since I ran my first 50-miler, my goal was to eventually run 100 miles, which I finally did this past January. So while that’s always been the goal and the direction I’ve been headed, I’d say my “why” has evolved.

When I first started ultrarunning, I was pretty driven by my ego. I loved running, but I also really liked being able to call myself an ultrarunner and having progress to “show,” whether that meant running faster or running farther.

I think that’s just part of being in your early twenties, too. It’s easy to get caught up in how you’re being perceived by other people and there’s this feeling that everyone’s in a race to be as successful as possible, as quickly as possible.

And while I’m still very competitive and have specific goals to keep running farther and faster, that’s not why I run every day anymore.

I run because I genuinely love to run. It feels like what I’m supposed to be doing. Like I’m fulfilling something deep within myself. It connects me to who I am in a really powerful way.

It’s also how I feel connected to the outdoors. Growing up spending all day at the barn and around horses, I don’t miss the equestrian sport itself, but I do miss being at the barn and around animals all day. There was something so simple about that way of life.

When I run, I get to reconnect with that simplicity. Moving my body over the earth, being in the quiet, and just being present and free.

What do you balance your running with? Do you have a family to take care of? Kids, parents or other relatives or loved ones? If so, how do you balance all of it and still make time to run/care for yourself?

I mainly balance running with work, which has gotten a lot easier now that I coach online.

When I had my gym, it was a much harder balance to strike. Two years in, I had built a full book of clients and was coaching in person, on my feet, for 10 hours a day. On top of that, I was managing all of the backend work when I wasn’t coaching because I had no staff, it was just me.

At the time, I only had time to run 3 to 4 days a week max, with two of those runs happening at 5AM during the week, and the other 1 or 2 runs happening on the weekend.

But beyond the hours, I’d say the hardest part was the energy drain and mental load that came with owning a gym. My landlord would surprise me with a $1,000 invoice. My AC would break. I felt like I was constantly putting out fires while still showing up positive, energetic, and happy for my clients all week long, never letting anyone see the stress and labor happening behind the scenes.

That left very little energy for running — or for much of a personal life.

It was incredibly hard to fit running in during those years, but I also knew how important it was that I did. Running was the one thing that was truly mine. It was the time when I wasn’t answering client texts, picking up my landlord’s calls, or checking my email to see what urgent problem was waiting for me next.

It wasn’t easy to run at 5:00 a.m. twice a week or get a long run in on the weekend when all I wanted to do was sleep in. But I made it work because running was also what kept me grounded, sane, and connected to the fact that I was a human outside of my career.

The key during that time was being brutally honest about what I could handle. I had goals of running 100 miles, and I wanted so badly to be running more than 3 to 4 days a week. But if I had tried to force myself to run 5 to 6 days, I would have been setting myself up for failure.

Being realistic about what I could do — and then being really consistent with that — worked so much better than trying to do more than I could handle, falling off, getting discouraged, and feeling like I had to start over every week.

That’s how I stayed consistent, kept running, and continued training for big races through some of the busiest years of my career.

In the age of AI, when runners can create training plans with a few keystrokes, how are you approaching/changing the way you coach and train the runners you work with?

AI hasn’t changed how I coach, because I’ve always focused on a deeply personal, 1-to-1 style of coaching that goes beyond writing a training plan.

That started when I owned my gym and worked face-to-face with people all day, and it’s something I’ve intentionally brought into coaching online. I text with my clients weekly and sometimes daily, get on calls with them every month, and help them not only adjust and execute their training, but navigate the doubt, frustration, and emotions that come with chasing a big goal.

I’m actually really proud to be doing that in the age of AI, when so much of life is losing its humanness. I want to keep the experience of running fully human.

I coach beginner half marathon, marathon, ultra, and trail runners who also have really busy lives. They’re working 50-hour weeks, sitting in back-to-back meetings until 8 p.m., or traveling every other week. Some have tried AI-generated plans and found they didn’t work because a plan can’t always account for what happens when life gets exceptionally chaotic or sh*t hits the fan.

And while adjusting plans daily when unexpected things come up is part of what I do and how I help my runners stay on track, sometimes what a runner needs isn’t just an adjustment to their plan. They need someone who knows what they’ve been through, understands how hard they’re trying, and can remind them when they’re doubting themselves: “You’re doing enough. You can do this. I believe in you.”

I don’t just coach the plan. I coach the runner — the person. I’m passionate about running as a vehicle for growing as a person, building character, and becoming stronger and more resilient than you realized you could be.

I coach because I’m passionate about running, but I’m even more passionate about serving people, pouring into people, and loving people.

I’d love to see AI try to do that the way only a human being can.

Is there anything you’re especially proud of that you can point to your running and say, ‘this helped me achieve ______’?

I’m really proud that, no matter what I was going through — the busy years at the gym, races that didn’t go my way, the normal self-doubt and questioning, and wondering why I was trying so hard when it maybe would have been “easier” to stop chasing big goals — I never gave up.

For seven years, I’ve run consistently. What that looked like changed depending on the season of life I was in. There were years when I ran 2 to 3 days a week and barely did long runs, and there are years like now when I’m running five days a week and doing a long run every weekend. But I’ve never stopped. Running has always stayed part of my week and part of my life.

And that, more than anything, is how I’ve gone from running my first 5K to finishing ultras from 50K to 100 miles. Not because my mileage has always been impressive, or because I do crazy workouts, or because I’m exceptionally fast or talented. I’ve just kept showing up — and I’ve learned to love running more and more along the way.

I recently heard someone on a podcast call himself a “perennial bloomer,” and I haven’t stopped thinking about it.

I’m a perennial bloomer.

I may not be the most impressive runner with the most impressive results, but I keep coming back year after year. And because I keep coming back, I keep growing. I keep getting better. I keep finding out what else I’m capable of.

I think that’s what I’m most proud of.

What have you learned about yourself from your running journey? Is there anything that’s changed about you since you started?

I’ve changed completely since I started. When I ran my first 50-miler seven years ago, I had no idea what I was in for or how hard it was going to be. I’d never run more than a marathon and figured if I could run 26.2 miles, I could run 50, right?

I finished, but I cried and complained through most of the second half. I had no concept yet of what it meant to work on mental strength and toughness.

It was one of those finishes where everyone was telling me how proud I should be, but I didn’t feel as happy as I thought I would. I was disappointed in how I’d handled myself when things got hard.

I had gotten into ultrarunning because I was inspired by the 50- and 100-mile runners I met at my first trail race. They were positive, strong, and determined. At my first ultra, I hadn’t been any of those things. That race held up a mirror to who I was when things got tough, and I wasn’t happy with what I saw.

I remember promising myself I never wanted to act like that at a race again. No matter how future races went, I wanted to be able to stay strong, positive, and determined when things got hard.

Over the 13 ultras that followed, I treated every difficult moment as an opportunity to keep that promise. I learned that I couldn’t always control how my race was going, but I could control who I chose to be while it was happening.

That became more important to me than any finish time or place on the leaderboard. I wanted to cross every finish line knowing that, regardless of the result, I was proud of how I handled myself that day.

People remark on my mental strength at ultras now, and I think it’s important to share that I wasn’t always this way. I became this way by putting myself in hard situations over and over again and choosing, little by little, to respond differently.

Where would you like to go with your running? Is there anything special you’d like to achieve — like, say, running all six World Marathon Majors, or running an ultra?

I want to go so many places with my running! I’d love to keep getting faster at the 100-mile distance, and I definitely want to run a 200-miler one day.

I’d also love to section-run the entire Florida Trail, a 1,500-mile National Scenic Trail that passes through some of the most stunning and diverse landscapes in Florida. And once I’ve experienced the whole thing in sections, maybe I’ll try to run it continuously!

What keeps you going? Especially if you’ve been running for a while — do you ever get bored with it? How do you find new things to motivate you, to keep you going?

Because running has become part of how I live a full life and express myself, I really don’t get bored with it. I feel incredibly lucky to run five days a week, especially because I used to not have time to run that much.

Now that I coach online, I can also spend so much more time on trails. When I owned my gym, I did a lot of my running on the treadmill or roads because they were more efficient and accessible. Now I get to build my life around trail running and being outside, and I’m genuinely grateful for that.

That doesn’t mean I leap out of bed stoked every morning when my alarm goes off at 6:00 a.m. I’ve just learned not to let temporary feelings dictate what I do.

I might wake up tired and grumpy, but I know those feelings will pass. So I get up anyway and do the thing I’ve done for years, knowing I’ll probably experience another 50 thoughts, feelings, and emotions before my morning run is even over. That’s just part of being human and none of it has to mean anything unless I give it meaning.

Look back at yourself when you were a kid, maybe say 10 years old. Remember how you felt, what you thought, especially what you thought you were capable of back then. If you could talk to that kid now, what would you say?

I talk to that kid every week, if not every day! Because that kid was a dreamer. She was bold and courageous and looked at life like there were no limits and anything was possible. She assumed she was capable of anything she put her mind to and never even considered that she couldn’t have everything she wanted.

I ask that kid to help me live that way now as an adult. Because it’s so easy to let life slowly dim your dreams, your drive, and your sense of wonder and possibility.

I have to believe there was a reason that kid was so confident and so sure of herself at such a young age. So I let her make the decisions and drive the ship — not the 31-year-old version of me who sometimes tries to convince me to “be more realistic.”

The older I get, the more intentionally I return to my younger self.

So I guess I would say, “Thank you. You inspire me.”

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“A newsletter has to have a theme and it has to evolve… One thing I've learned is never to limit your scope of interest. If you’re obsessed with something off your beat don’t be afraid to cover that too, whether it’s spy novels, sad sports teams or the Westminster dog show.”

Okay, that’s probably a little further afield from where we generally travel here, but it got me thinking: how have you changed/evolved as an athlete since you started your running journey?

What new goals have you reached for, especially if they’re things you didn’t think were possible for you previously? What’s changed about you? — Terrell

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I’ve mentioned this before, I know, but one of my all-time favorite movies is 1984’s The Natural, which stars Robert Redford as an aging Roy Hobbs, a one-time pitching phenom whose path to the major leagues was derailed by a tragic accident.

The film’s present day begins nearly twenty years later, when a fortysomething Hobbs has decided to take one last shot at baseball, long past the age by which most players have retired.

I’ve loved the movie ever since the first time I saw it, back when I was in the seventh grade — the age little T is now, by the way. But it inspires me even more today, now that I’m much closer to Hobbs’ age than I was the first time I saw it. (In fact, I’m a decade older!)

A couple of weeks ago, I watched it for the first time in a long time. Some movies I once loved haven’t aged so well, but this one has — the peaceful, rustic farmhouse Hobbs grows up in, the glamour of New York once he finally makes it onto the Knights, the excitement of playing in Chicago’s Wrigley Field, it all still feels fresh.

Most of all, the climactic scene — in which Hobbs hits the highest, longest home run you’ve ever seen, sending the ball soaring into the grandstand lights, which explode in a shower of sparks down onto the field — still gives me chills.

Just before that happens, though, there’s a scene I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since my re-watch: when Hobbs, still at the plate, hits a high fly ball he thinks is a home run, but actually turns foul.

Walking back to home plate, he sees his beloved “Wonderboy”-inscribed bat, shattered in two on the ground. He’d made the bat himself as a kid, hewing it from the trunk of a tree felled by lightning. The bat had been a trusted friend, the one thing that connected him to his childhood, that never failed him. And now it lay in pieces, ruined.

Hobbs stands and stares at the broken bat, at a loss for what to do. We see the Knights’ batboy, Bobby Savoy, come running out of the dugout to pick up the pieces; he looks back at Hobbs, who has only one thing to say: “go pick me out a winner, Bobby.”

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• Have a question? Or a thought to share?

• Something cool/funny/sad/exciting/etc. that happened this week?

• Any accomplishments or goals you reached, running-related or not?

(This may be a huge mistake… 🤣 we’ll see!) — Terrell

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I can’t tell you how happy and excited I am to share this story with you today. In fact, I had the feeling Carlos might be someone I’d want to feature here from the moment he became a paid subscriber to THM just a few weeks ago.

From the start, he was excited to share his experiences and thoughts, and I saw from each post the passion he had for running — a sport, by the way, he didn’t take up until well into middle age, when he was 50 years old.

I love that because today, especially, it’s so easy to think of running as largely a young person’s activity — on social media, on the covers of magazines, and elsewhere, that’s who we tend to see. But Carlos shows that age isn’t a barrier at all, as he’s still running strong now at age 67.

His story is so much fun to read, I won’t dilly-dally anymore other than to say, I think you’ll find his relationship with his grandchildren as endearing as I did, and stay tuned because an interview with his granddaughter Mia, who’s every bit as accomplished and enthusiastic a runner as he is, will follow soon. Enjoy. — Terrell

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So, let’s hear a little bit about you! Who are you, your age (if you’d like to share), where you’re from, what you do, etc.

I’m Carlos Sanchez, age 67, and I live in Round Rock, Texas. I’ve been retired for a year now, trading my keyboard and slacks for shorts and the marathon running circuit.

My tech career began in 1980 as a computer programmer on big IBM computers, long before PCs were a household staple. The computing landscape has completely changed since then, but I adapted as programming languages changed.

In the latter half of my career, I transitioned into systems administration. Back then, my job was keeping the computers running — now, I focus on keeping myself running.

What does your running routine look like? How many times a week, and how far do you run?

I run six days a week, averaging 40 to 50 miles. Twice a week, I meet my teammates for speed work and quality miles, wrapping up the weekend with a 15-to-20-mile long run.

At age 67 in 2025, I ran a total of 1,808 miles, three marathons, and two half marathons — earning two new PRs and qualifying for Boston twice.

My first marathon time at age 50 in Chicago 2008 was 3:59:48 and my latest marathon in Boston 2026 was 3:54:53, another BQ for Boston 2027. My fastest marathon of 3:50:19 was in July 2025 in the Juneau Marathon. At the other end, my slowest marathon time was 4:42:31 during the 2015 South Padre Island Marathon.

My running routine has looked a little different these past few weeks. I am currently working through my very first running-related injury. An abdominal muscle pain surfaced in February, I ignored it through June; there was absolutely no way I was going to let anything disrupt my plans to share the Boston Marathon starting line with my granddaughter.

Now that the issue is nearly resolved, I am eager to get back to my normal routine and begin training for the 2026 Chicago Marathon. Through the 17 years I’ve been running, I have been very fortunate to not have any running-related injuries until now.

There was, however, a cycling injury in 2023 that kept me from running for about 18 months. I am not a cyclist at all, but did participate in the annual MS150 charity bike ride eight times. This is a 150-mile bicycle ride to raise funds to help folks living with multiple sclerosis.

With 15 miles to go, I was going 18 miles-per-hour on the bicycle and crashed into a pedestrian. Not knowing what happened, I woke up in the ambulance arguing with the medics that I needed to go finish the ride. They said, “No.”

My wife has imposed a life-time ban on cycling for me. As soon as I healed up, I resumed running.

Were you an athletic kid growing up? What are your early memories of what fitness and health were about?

When I was 14, watching Mark Spitz dominate the 1972 Olympics convinced me I could swim. My theory collapsed the moment I jumped into the deep end of a pool and immediately sank. A friend had to dive in, pull me out, and spend the rest of the day teaching me the basics of swimming.

For most of my life, sports were just casual outdoor fun. My running routine was limited to showing up for the Austin’s annual Capitol 10K with zero training or chasing around the cross country race course to see my children run.

To me, a marathon seemed humanly impossible. That changed at age 50 when I finally took up running seriously. Now, 17 years and 38 marathons later, I am proof that anyone can redefine what is possible.

How did you first get into running? Was there something that inspired you — like a performance at the Olympics, for example, or a runner you discovered by watching them on social media or TV? Or was there someone in your own life who inspired you to think, ‘maybe I can do this?’

Watching my son and daughter compete in high school track and cross country, I always deeply admired their talent and dedication. My daughter, Alexis, continued running in college, often mentioning her dream of running a marathon after graduation.

The idea felt completely wild to me, something only superhumans do, but I thought it sounded like an incredible challenge we could try. In early 2008, once her college days wrapped up, I threw out an unexpected offer: if she wanted to run a marathon, I would join her.

We started training and lined up for the 2008 Chicago Marathon. At our pasta dinner the night before the race, I casually mentioned that I’d probably lose time stopping to retie my shoes, which constantly came undone during training.

Right there at the table, she taught me the proper runner’s knot. We finished the race, and in all the miles I’ve run since, my laces have never come undone again. Alexis and I have run three marathons together.

Seventeen years later, in February 2025, I was preparing for the April Mountains 2 Beach Marathon in California. I texted my granddaughter, Mia, asking if she wanted to run her first marathon and possibly qualify for Boston. She had about ten weeks to prepare while attending school at Harvard in Boston.

Running there in the winter is a little tough, but she put in the necessary miles and was ready to run her first marathon. She was a decorated high school and collegiate runner, so she knew how to prepare even in harsh conditions.

Lining up with her at the start line of her first marathon was such a beautiful, proud moment that is seared in my mind. It reminded me clearly of that morning in Chicago when I ran my first marathon with my daughter.

I had a few tears of joy in 2008 and now again in 2025 standing at the start line with Mia. We both finished with Boston qualifying (BQ) times in California. We then went on to make Boston Marathon history and crossed the finish line on Boylston Street in April 2026.

My children and grandchildren inspire me to run. To paraphrase Sir Isaac Newton: if I have gone further, it is by running on the shoulders of these giants.

How has your interest in running evolved since then? Do you run farther, or faster now?

From 2008 through the start of COVID in 2020, my training was unstructured, consisting of roughly 15 to 25 miles over three days a week with friends. Despite the lack of a formal plan, I completed approximately 30 marathons, generally finishing around the four-hour mark. I didn’t really know how to run.

My running underwent a major transformation in 2022 when my marathon times dropped to Boston Marathon qualifying levels. The change happened after I started training with a running coach who transformed my approach to training.

My routine shifted to a 40-to-50-mile week over six days, including weekly speed sessions with long runs that included speed work. Surprisingly, at age 67, I am faster now than when I began my running career 17 years ago.

Running remains a great adventure. Whether it is waking up at 4:44 a.m. for an early morning long run with friends or stepping up to the starting line of a marathon, I still find joy in every single mile.

What do you balance your running with? Do you have a family to take care of? Kids, parents or other relatives or loved ones? If so, how do you balance all of it and still make time to run/care for yourself?

With my children now grown and raising families of their own, staying closely connected with my kids, grandkids, family, and lifelong friends is my highest priority.

I am incredibly fortunate to have a wife who is very supportive of my running goals. To ensure my training never interferes with family time or normal life, I set my alarm to 4:44 a.m. and get most of my workouts done first thing in the morning.

Is there anything you’re especially proud of that you can point to your running and say, ‘this helped me achieve ______’?

I feel immense pride — and even a bit responsible — that my six grandchildren love running and excel at it. We all talk about running often and their achievements. While the two youngest are still small, they already show an eager interest in the sport.

My oldest granddaughter, Mia, ran competitively for four years in college, qualified for the Boston Marathon on her very first try, and completed it with me in 2026 to make Boston history. Her three siblings are already setting school records of their own and want to run a marathon with me once they finish college.

Knowing I have a few years before they graduate, I have to stay in shape and be ready for when they finish school and we can find a marathon and get to the start line together.

What have you learned about yourself from your running journey? Is there anything that’s changed about you since you started?

I run year-round, even through the tough Texas summers when morning lows can hover at around 82 degrees. Whether I am putting in miles with friends or going out for a solo run, I find equal joy in the movement.

Over the past 17 years, I’ve discovered that the running community is incredibly welcoming. In fact, I met one of my closest friends when I first started, and we still log miles together today — a friendship that never would have existed without this sport.

Running has a unique way of breaking down barriers, making it easy to meet people and learn about their lives. It has taught me to be a better listener and to appreciate the beauty of shared silence. After all, when you’re running hard, breathing takes priority over talking. Quiet is okay, quiet is peace.

There are amazing people all around us, and a shared passion like running gives us the perfect opportunity to pause, share our stories, and truly connect.

Where would you like to go with your running? Is there anything special you’d like to achieve — like, say, running all six World Marathon Majors, or running an ultra?

With 38 marathons completed — including three majors, a Boston qualification, and a wild stretch where I inadvertently ran four marathons in 100 days — my running days are far from finished.

Racing through Chicago, New York, Boston, Wisconsin, South Padre Island, Austin, Greece, Cuba, and many other cities has been an incredible adventure, but my biggest wish is simply to keep moving forward alongside my friends and grandchildren.

I love catching glimpses of them out on the trails, working hard with their high school cross country and track teams. Eventually, I plan to share a full 26.2-mile starting line with each of them.

More than anything, I want my miles to serve as proof for them that with the right mindset and dedication, even the hardest things in life can become second nature.

What keeps you going? Especially if you’ve been running for a while — do you ever get bored with it? How do you find new things to motivate you, to keep you going?

For me, every run is an adventure, whether I am exploring a new route or winding through a path I’ve traveled hundreds of times. There is something fascinating about marveling at a beautiful, dark morning sky or watching the trails slowly come to life with other people.

I always make it a point to greet the people I pass by. I never wear headphones; I find tuning into the sounds of nature and my own body far more rewarding than any music or podcast.

Of course, my solo runs look very different from my group runs. When I’m out with friends, our miles are filled with endless laughter, lighthearted teasing, updates about our families, and conversations about whatever is happening in our lives. There is truly never a dull moment as I run.

Look back at yourself when you were a kid, maybe say 10 years old. Remember how you felt, what you thought, especially what you thought you were capable of back then. If you could talk to that kid now, what would you say?

If I could speak to my younger self, I’d tell him this:

Right now, as you climb trees or sit at home in the southernmost tip of Texas, watching Mark Spitz make swimming look effortless during the 1968 Olympics, keep dreaming big.

You too will do incredible things in your life and career. Sure, you are about to run wild and barefoot to the local pool — dodging thorns along the way only to sink the moment you hit the deep end — but don’t worry. You will be pulled out by loving friends and family. Remember that moment, and always give back just as they did.

You might not notice opportunities when they first arrive, but every event is shaping an incredible future for you. Never look back wanting to change your past — alter one detail, and you change the destination.

Brace yourself, because you will witness staggering, unimaginable shifts. Computers in every home, the internet, a global pandemic, self-driving cars... the future is wild.

You’ll see TLAs (Three-Letter Acronyms) for everything, Disco will eventually die out, luckily rock and roll will rock on, the Beatles will split up, and country and western will morph into just country. Through it all, live big and enjoy every single moment.

The best part is you’ll have a fantastic family too. A loving wife, two beautiful children, and six amazing grandchildren.

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