Running Through the Seasons
By: Amanda Loudin
Last December, as I crossed the finish line of an annual holiday five-miler, I glanced at the clock. My time was slower than 2024, and that time had likewise been slower than 2023. And when I went home and did the math, my overall pace for that five-miler was a full 30 seconds per mile slower than my old marathon PR pace.
All those downward-sloping numbers could have added up to one sad runner, and I’m not going to lie—my ego does take a bruising when I frame current me against former me. But then I shift my perspective and remind myself that I’m in a different season of running, both by choice and by radical acceptance of my age. Then I’m once again at peace.
I came to running as something of a requisite; I wanted to try triathlon. I loved cycling and swimming, but running, not so much. As I began to train more seriously, however, of the three sports, running began to rise to the top. I was getting faster, started enjoying the track workouts, and looked forward to my weekend long runs. When I signed up for an Ironman, I decided running a marathon about a year prior was a wise move.
On marathon race day, I was nervous and respectful of the distance, running a negative split and qualifying for Boston out of the gate. I still look back on that race as one of my all-time best experiences. It’s also the moment when I fell in love with the sport. That was the spring of my running career.
My Summer Season
A couple of kids later, running was not only my favorite sport but also the most convenient.
I hired a coach and started chasing half-marathon and marathon PRs. I loved following a schedule and worked hard to fit in all the workouts. I found an incredible group of women to train with, and we met regularly to do the work, shoulder to shoulder. The hard efforts and camaraderie paid off, and I began a series of years where I continually knocked down my times. It was hard, yet fun, and I never wanted the ride to end.
If my transition from triathlon to running was my spring, that period of PR chasing was my summer.
Autumn
I entered fall in my late 40s, recognizing that after all those years and miles, I wasn’t hitting personal bests anymore. I struggled here and sought out solutions to keep the good times rolling.
I trained even harder, dialed in my nutrition during and after runs, and picked my race days like a scientist, looking for the best odds of good weather to help me eke out a minute or two.
That approach, as you may imagine, led to some injuries and downtime. As any runner knows, we’re not at our best when we can’t do what we love. I began a dedicated strength-training program under the watchful eye of a PT coach, and much to my surprise, I liked those sessions more than expected.
I got stronger, staved off injury for the most part, and began shifting my thinking around my running. I began to appreciate every mile, started letting go of the weekly speed sessions, and lowered my weekly mileage, replacing some of it with time under a barbell.
The Peace of Winter
I’ve now reached the winter season of running. It’s joyful and lovely and surprisingly peaceful.
Today I have settled into a four-day-a-week running routine. I keep a longish run in there, usually around 10 to 12 miles, and once a week I throw in some strides or pick-ups near the end. I’m still running alongside those same friends, and we have all begun to accept our Running 2.0 selves. Gone are the days we grind it out on the track, or the hill repeats, the tempo or the race pace sessions.
Our twice-weekly group runs pass by two lakes, where we get to watch the calendar turn, season by season. We’ve shifted our conversations from parenting little kids with little problems to big kids with big problems. We’ve supported each other through loss—jobs, marriages, parents, friends—and we all see life through a softer lens today.
I apply that softer lens to my running, too. I no longer judge a day on the trails or the roads by the numbers on my watch. I enjoy the sunshine on my face, the sounds of singing birds, and the sights of leaves coming and going on the trees. An hour spent at daybreak, running alongside your best friends, is about as good as life gets.
There’s so much peace and beauty in running, no matter what the season. I’ve enjoyed every stage and step along the way, but if I had to vote, I’d say these later, slower, quieter days are the best yet.
