After four years coaching middle school track and growing the team from 70 to 220 kids, I stepped away last spring. The kids were awesome, and we finished top three at city championships every year. We hosted visits from pro athletes from Adidas, Brooks, and Oiselle. With help from my assistant coaches, we built something I’m genuinely proud of. It was a difficult decision, but the administrative environment at the school district wasn’t healthy. I needed to walk away before it soured what I was giving the kids.
This year, I’m coaching someone else: myself.
For the past two years, I’ve struggled to figure out what my big running goal should be. Should I attempt my first 100-miler? Focus on speed? Try to qualify for a special ultra? The indecision itself became a problem.
Two years ago, I thought maybe the 100-miler. Then I tore my hamstring during training. You can see the photo here, it was a high-grade tear that left a bruise running from the back of my knee to my glute. That ruined the entire summer. And this photo was taken a month after the tear, it had healed some by then. Any worse, and the doctor said I would’ve needed surgery.
Last year, I thought I’d be smart about it. Train for a 100-miler but throw in speedwork in case I didn’t get into the race I wanted and then run something shorter like a marathon. That was a mistake. My body wasn’t ready for that that kind of training and I tore my right calf twice during speed sessions. Another summer, gone. So much for being smart.
This year, I realized I needed to commit to one goal.
I’ve decided that I’m training for the mile. I want to see how fast this old body can run 1,609 meters.
I’m not ignoring the fact that I got hurt doing speedwork the last two years. And I know I’ve lost a ton of leg speed by training for ultra-marathons for the past five-plus years. Ultra training is slow, grinding, high-volume work. The mile is more explosive, technical, and requires a completely different approach to training and racing.
But I’ve been telling kids for four years to “always be curious about what you’re capable of.” Time to live it.
My mile PR came when I was 16 years old, running 4:36 on a hand-timed cinder track in Montana. When I was 37, I ran a 4:39 road mile. That day in 2005, I realized I’d wasted my peak years not pushing myself. I promised I’d never do that again. This year, I’m putting my effort where my mouth has been.
I’ll be 58 when I race the mile this summer. I have more than six months to prepare my body for the demands of it. I don’t really know how fast I can go. My ultra training has been so slow that even running a 6-minute mile last week during an easy 7-miler required real effort. But if I can drop a 6:00 mile on no training, what can I do in six months?
I want to know. I need to know.
So this summer, I’m jumping into the Club Northwest All Comers meets in Shoreline, a weekly evening track series open to anyone. I’ll line up for the mile and see what happens. I bet I’m the oldest runner there by orders of decades. No matter.
And I’m going to write about it here.
This is what pro athletes do: they bet on themselves. They commit to a goal, train specifically for it, and show up on race day to give it their best.
I’m doing the same thing. Just slower, older, and with way more uncertainty.
But here’s why this matters for Warm Current:
Challenge: I’m attempting something hard with no guarantee of success. At 57, after years of slow training and recent injuries, I don’t know if my body can handle what I’m asking of it.
Care: I’m learning from past mistakes. Six months of gradually adapting. Listening to my body.
Commit: I’m making a decision and following through, even though it’s scary and I might fail publicly.
Connect: I’m sharing this journey openly. I’ll be racing with strangers much younger than me at those All Comers meets. But it’s part of the broader running community. And I’ll document the process here.
After four years of coaching kids to be curious about their capabilities, to show up for their teammates, to push through difficulty, it’s time to practice what I’ve been preaching.
I don’t know how this ends. Maybe I run faster than I think I can. Maybe I get injured again. Maybe I discover that 57-year-old legs simply can’t generate the power needed for a fast mile anymore.
But I’m going to find out.
I’ll be documenting this journey – the training sessions, the setbacks, the small victories, how the four pillars show up in the daily work of preparing for one fast mile.
Because that’s what this newsletter is: real work, real uncertainty, real commitment.
Let’s see what happens.
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