The 10 Mile Run: Then and Now
Comparing my running 10 miles when I was 15 to running 10 miles now.
Every summer my high school cross country team in Ohio hosted a cross country camp. The week was for team bonding, fun times outside, and building up our mileage. Since that took place in an era before Strava and before I wore a GPS watch — they were not allowed per guidelines set by the state high school athletic association — I don’t have a recollection of exactly how much running I did during this week, but I know it was a lot.
We did a long run every morning, had time to relax and chill in the afternoon, and in the evening we played games: a lot of ultimate frisbee and some intense running-heavy versions of hide and seek. The week built up to the much-discussed 10-mile run. Each year, the runners who dared could complete the legendary 10-mile run, which included a much-despised entirely uphill half mile. It was very steep.
The coach reminded us that we didn’t have to run 10 miles. He wanted everyone to get in at least 6 or 7, but if you wanted to end there, that was fine. He circled the route in his car, picking up anyone who was ready to be done and handing out water.
When I started the run I didn’t plan to do the full ten miles. I had never run ten miles before, and wasn’t sure I’d be able to. In my mind, 10 was a huge jump from seven. I started the run with four of my teammates. At the mark for each mile, one of my teammates — Ashley — would check-in with everyone and make sure we were all okay. We’d all say yes, and keep running.
At the seven mile mark, I felt ready to quit, but Ashley convinced me to keep going. She told me how usually only three or four people did the ten mile run every year, and wouldn’t it be cool if almost everyone did? Also, she believed in me that I could keep going.
And we kept going.
The real test was the half-mile hill. Only those that ran the full ten miles had to tackle the hill. It was so steep that if you were in a car at the top of the hill and just let the car roll, you’d end up going 40 miles per hour.
That run was one of the toughest runs I ever did. I really don’t remember much about camp except for that run, eating Steak & Shake, and playing lots of Ultimate Frisbee. There were moments when I wanted to tap out and hop in the air conditioned car to go back to our cabins, but I didn’t. I stuck with it.
At the end of camp, if you ran the full ten miles, you got to be in the “Ten Mile Club” picture. Of the 23 people at camp, 19 finished the run.
Over ten years later, I ran ten miles
On Sunday, I joined the 10 mile club again — and extended my longest run ever by half a mile. I finished my 10.5 mile run in 2:50.
If you’re not in South Carolina, just know it was hot. I was so sweaty when I was running that I didn’t feel sweaty, and I didn’t know that was possible.
I also, unlike when I was a teenager, was carrying so much fuel and electrolytes on me. During the run I took three gels, two salt chews, drank 28 ounces of Tailwind, and at least another 60 ounces of water.
Kimberly and I talked about how, as teenagers, you were just let loose into the world. I didn’t even know what “fueling” meant when I ran cross country. I remember hearing someone at practice talking about runners eating Starburst during races to get some sugar. Gels? Never met her.
I think an important part of this reflection is acknowledging the vast difference in time it takes 15-year-old Sydney to run ten miles and 28-year-old Sydney to run ten miles. In high school, my 5k race pace was an 8:00 minute mile, so my long run pace (which was not calculated) was probably a 10-12 minute mile. Let’s split the difference and say I was running an 11 minute mile on my ten mile run. The run would have taken me 1:50, which is an hour faster than the run I did Sunday.
That’s a big difference. I’m not old, but I’m not as young as I once was either. I think about my high school self who was going, going, going all the time, and while I’m still a busy person, I’m exhausted thinking about my life then. Where did I get the energy?
10 is a milestone. I haven’t run that distance since I was 15 — and had I not had surgery in October, I probably would have had a couple of 10 mile runs before I ran my first half marathon. Now, though, I can look forward to every long run being my longest run ever. I’m excited to watch that number build as the weeks turn to months. Eventually the mileage on my watch will say 26.2 and I’ll be across the finish line.
The threads of the past
Every week when I sit down to write this, something from the past comes up whether it’s running related or not. Sometimes I feel that I spend too much time ruminating on the past, turning over events in my head trying to figure out how I got from there to here — and I do — but I also think there are threads tying moments together, like a grand circular narrative where everything that happens has a long history just waiting to tell its story.
Writing about myself and my life often does this. I’m greeted with the past and how to interpret it. I remember details and share them, or I look at pictures and memories pop up, like how one of my teammates would comb my hair for me because it's thick and when I would run and get sweaty it’d be all knotted together. I remember that I came home from camp and had mono, likely because we spent an entire week sharing water bottles. When I was sick, it was my cross country teammates who popped over to say hi. Ashley, who I mentioned above, brought me a stack of fifteen Jodi Picoult novels. In my waking hours, I read them all.
None of these things really has anything to do with running ten miles, but in the grand scheme of the story that is my life, they’re intrinsically connected to one another, linking my infinite selves together.
I wonder what connections I’ll make on the next long run.
❤️❤️ Go Sydney! You are my hero, running in Charleston, in this heat?! Let alone 10.5 miles!