A few years ago, in a Facebook group I belonged to, someone asked for recommendations on what to include in a kit for a 5K she was putting together for some community center. âA tech shirtâ, said someone. âA good bag that you can actually use after the raceâ, stated someone else. âA travel mug with the race logo,â chimed in a 3rd person. As asked, I added my 2 cents: âA pair of custom-made running shoes delivered to my door by Eliud Kipchoge himselfâ.
And I was not being facetious. I was expressing how much I would love for Eliud Kipchoge to personally hand-deliver a pair of custom-made running shoes as part of that 5K. The point was that you may include whatever you want in a race kit, it is just a matter of cost.
For those of us who have been competing for a few decades, races where you only got a bib and traffic control were commonplace. Races with medals, tech shirts, expos, and celebrity participation were the exception. Or they were the exclusive domain of races with a major sponsor, the New York City Marathon, or similar events.
In a recent Runnerâs World Newsletter, they stated that âveterans of the first running boom in the late 1970s and early 1980s love to recount the simplicity of that eraâs races. âSomeone would draw a line in the road, yell âGo!â, and then hand you a popsicle stick with your place as you finished. Entry fees were a dollar or two. The post-race party was a tailgate at someoneâs station wagon.â
Even the convenience of registering online adds to the price of a race (Photo Pexels)
Now we complain if the medal looks cheap, if hydration has no options, if there is no entertainment along the way, if all we get is a banana, if the race shirt design is not to our liking, if there are no finish line professional pictures, if the race kit has only a handful coupons, etc. All great optionsâbut they cost money, and you have to pay for them.
When you have water, Gatorade, or multiple flavors of gels every two miles, understand that it is part of the $80 for 10K or $150 for a half marathon you ponied up. When you go out of your way to thank all police officers for being there, donât forget you paid for their time. This is when you should be mad at a crappy medal, a cotton race shirt, not having a banana, or them cramming age groups every 10 years.
According to that same RW post, âa RunSignupâs 2023 report found that the average 5K cost $29.90. Half marathons in the $100 range are now typical. And in December, 1,000 runners will get boutique treatment (personal fluids, pacers, indoor warmup space, etc.) at The Marathon Project in exchange for a $500 entry fee. Even allowing for inflation and exaggeration, races cost relatively much more than in days of yore. What gives?â
There are always cheap race organizers. The ones who charge premium prices yet donât have crowd control and mix hundreds of runners with regular space users, such as a beach boardwalk. Sure, there are the ones that accommodate a half marathon within the confines of a public park, donât have police control in place, get you a cheap generic award, and have no qualms about overcharging you. You should not participate in those races.
Look. I am not saying âthe old times were betterâ. I am not here to advocate the return of the $15 Boston Marathon. The point here is to understand that you get what you pay for. When racing is labeled as a charity event it is because funds are being raised for a noble cause, not because sponsors want to subsidize your racing ego. So, there are two clear options:
A â Treat every local 5K as if it were a World Marathon Major celebration and demand what you pay for if you donât get it.
B â Accept a no-frills race at a no-frills price and then donât go complaining on Tik Tok about how crappy the medal was.
Do you think race fees are justified? Drop your thoughts in the comments below!
As 2024 approaches (or it is already here depending on when you are reading this post) and we look forward to a blank canvas to fill out with new goals, challenges, and adventures, we quickly turn our heads back to the year that was, to reminisce and reflect on our running year.
We saw marathon world records fall to the point where it seems feasible that 2024 will give us the first sub-2 marathon for men and first sub-2:10 for women. We are just 36 and 114 seconds away from such feats. We saw the 6-star finisher list growing to 8,143 and it is a matter of time before a 7th Major is included. Many of our friends set PRs in their marathons, shorter distances or just lost their 26.2 virginities. But, for many of us, 2023 was a challenging year. One that tested our core as runner beings. I was in that latter group.
Winning my Age Group at the Plantation F*ck Cancer 5K was one of the few highlight of my 2023 running season.
I completed the 1000-mile challenge with just three days to spare. And sure, it is a nice achievement, but it doesnât tell the whole story of my 2023. At least I did not get any injury and beyond the normal aches and pains, was able to run throughout the year with no interruption. That alone is a win. Still, it was far from what I expected it to be 12 months ago.
For some reason, it was very difficult to get into the running groove during the year. In my two half marathons early in the season, I was forced to walk after mile 10, finishing in unimpressive times that are embarrassing for me, when compared to what I have done in the recent past. I also had to withdraw from the Marine Corps Marathon because my body could not adjust to the heat and humidity of summer training in South Florida. It was impossible for me to complete more than 8 miles in one run, so I focused on 5 and 10K races until the end of the year. Those are not my favorite distances, as I prefer to go longer, but this was the adjustment that was required, and I am OK with it. I even won my age group in a local 5K, a rare occurrence.
For the first time in the last 15 years if felt little motivation to lace up and run. For the first time in recent memory, I dreaded waking up early on a weekend to go run long. Anxiety from my professional life, which was at an all-time high during the year, crept into my running life and affected me negatively. I gained weight, slowed down and lost the will to dig deep when a run got tough.
My lowest point was one day around September when for the first time ever, or at least that I can recall, I went out for a run and before the first minute was through, I decided I did not want to do this, so I stopped and drove home. Not before stopping at a gas station and stuffing up on cookies and chips. I still look back and canât believe this happened.
Yet, I kept running. After more than 40 years of being active, I know how you will feel after a good run. The support of my two running groups kept me accountable and sometimes I just forced myself to go out despite not feeling it.Â
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I completed a handful of races with not many results to brag about.
I have tried to pinpoint where the problem lies but I havenât been able to do so. Maybe it is because I am approaching 60. Maybe two and a half years after my open-heart surgery I must accept I wonât be able to run the same as before. Maybe the anxiety my work life has put me through for the last 18 months is taking a toll on me. Maybe my peak running years are behind me. Maybe it is a combination of everything.
But this difficult year has been an opportunity to analyze life from a different perspective and realize I am still very blessed. My running life is not my life, it is just part of it. My value as a husband, as a father, as a friend, as a son, as a coach or as a professional, is not tied to my marathon PR or my medal rack display at home. I still have a healthy marriage with a wife I adore, a healthy and successful son, both my parents are alive in their eighties and living independently, I have a thriving coaching business, I am part of a phenomenal running community with true friends, and I am injury free. At this stage in my life this is more valuable than running sub-2 in the half once again, or setting up another PR. I call this maturity.
This does not mean I have given up on improvement. I still want to go over 1000 miles in 2024. I still want to run at least 4 or 5 halves and be part of one marathon cycle. I want to get rid of the source of anxiety and lose the extra pounds I added in 2023. I thank God that He is providing me with 12 brand-new, crisp, months to achieve it all.
We all run for different reasons, including losing weight, improving our health, making new friends, or competition. I run for all these reasons. As a senior runner (68 years old), one of my motivators is a hope to delay the onset of dementia which is common in my fatherâs side of my family. I also enjoy the excitement and competition of races.
As we get older, we inevitably slow down. When I do training runs with my old high school buddies up north, we mostly jog. Theyâve had more health issues than I have, and although they are still mobile, they donât have much speed left. For most âserious runnersâ, getting faster means running and competing with faster people. One of the reasons I enjoy running with younger people when Iâm in Florida is that they motivate me to run faster.
John in one of his 27 podium finishes (Photo courtesy of John Mounteer)
Winter in South Florida is a runner paradise, especially compared to the cold, snow and ice in upstate NY where we live in the summers. The humidity is a factor to deal with, but it beats frostbite. The number of fall and winter races here, is extraordinary. Every weekend we have a choice of multiple races at all distances within an hourâs drive. We can choose from very competitive, fast, large races with thousands of participants and thousands of dollars in prize money for the top finishers, to a local Fun Run and Walk. There are benefits to both types of events.
Large competitive races have the benefit of letting you know how you measure up against other serious runners your age. This can have two effects: motivation to train harder or despair that youâll never get a spot on the podium. You may have to face the fact that you are a small fish in a big sea. I am a small fish. I was never fast. Even in my high school. cross country team, where the first 5 runners count, I was lucky to place 4th or 5th, way behind the fast guys. My âage percentageâ (my finish time compared to other runners of my age and sex) is around 60-66%. That means that at least a third of runners my age, are faster than me, and some are much faster.
In comparison, smaller races allow you to be a big fish in a small sea. Some small races still give medals in each five-year age group, although ten-year groups have become more common. The competition does thin out as you move up the age groups. Iâve run in races where almost everyone who showed up and ran was a winner! It feels good to get a place medal even knowing that youâre not the fastest runner in the area, but you were the fastest in that race that day.
You must do some searching to find the local, smaller races. Since we moved to Florida, Iâve run in dozens of small races, so Iâm a lot of email lists and get notices for many of them. So can you by searching your local listings online.
John and Coach Adolfo after the 2022 Tamarac Turkey Trot, in Tamarac, Florida
Iâve been running mostly 5k and some 10k races in Florida for about 10 years, and in that time, by cherry picking small races Iâve gotten 27 age group awards â ten 1st place, nine 2nd place, and eight 3rd places. And, in really small races I have a 2nd and a 3rd overall. Thatâs crazy fun!
Iâve had great luck by searching for a couple of key phrases, â1st Annualâ and âfun runâ. Another thing to consider is what other competitive races are occurring on the same weekend. Itâs likely that the fast runners will be there and wonât rain on your parade.
Some might think that âcherry pickingâ races is a form of cheating, and maybe it is, but winning medals helps motivate me to keep training. My method also works better in the younger and older age groups where there is less competition to begin with. I donât recommend that anyone does just easy races. I find that it still important to do the competitive races so that I donât become complacent, but the feeling of standing on the podium is addicting.
Final words: Pay attention to your body and donât overdo it while youâre young. Iâve had some injuries, but not as many or as bad as some of my contemporaries who ignored pain and did permanent damage. The secret to being competitive in older age group running is just to make it to next age group. Thanks to all my South Florida running family for keeping me going!
*John Mounteer is a runner who splits time between Upper State New York and Broward County, South Florida. While in Florida, he runs with Hollywood Run Club, Runnerâs Depot Run Club and No-Club Runners. He is also a good friend.
 In todayâs blogpost I am going to go personal, as something super cool just happened to me a couple of weeks ago. So cool, that I am still trying to figure out if it actually happened. Well, I wouldnât go that far, but amazing, nevertheless.
As many of my friends know, as well as readers who have taken the time to read My Running Story page in my website, I started running when I was very young. At 17 I ran my very first marathon. That race was an amazing experience that, almost four decades later, I still cherish and one of the coolest ones from my teenage years. There are not many high schoolers with a full marathon under their soles.
At 17, a senior in high school, and just a few yards away of finishing my very first full marathon
On January 22nd, 1983, my dad and I lined up at the foot of the old Orange Bowl Stadium for a 7AM start of the Orange Bowl Marathon. I remember a humid and rainy day in Miami and Bill Rodgers as the favorite to win. Our plan was to run the first 35K (about 22 miles) together and then every man was on his own. We cross paths with Rodgers twice during in-an-outs at Coral Way and Coconut Grove. Then, at mile 22 my dad left me in the dust and finished in 3:55. After walking a few painful and humbling miles, I triumphally crossed the finish line in 4:11:11. What a thrill to fall on my dadâs arms a few feet after and ask him: âWhen do we do this againâ. But I digress.
The point of this story is that back in 1983, getting a medal worth its place in an art gallery was not the norm. New York was famous for handing medals to every finisher. My dad had one from the previous year. The Orange Bowl offered medals to the first 500 or 1000 finishers, I donât recall precisely. What I do recall is that I did not get one. I have finished eight more marathons and despite some beautiful medals to represent my achievements, there was always a hole in my collection. A hole that may never be filled.
Until now.
On September 2, I was at my computer and for some reason the thought of the 1983 Orange Bowl Marathon and my lack of medal, crossed my mind. So I did a Google search and, to my most absolute astonishing surprise, there was one for sale in eBay for $15.99 plus $2 for shipping. I could not believe my eyes. The elusive medal was somewhere out there. I have never even seen one. But from my race shirt I recognized the logo and that was it. Just a few clicks away. Calling my name. Winking at me. I could not let the opportunity go. I purchased it right away.
The times I thought about the missing piece in my collection, I entertained finding a nice shell in the beach, hang it in a string, and call it my Orange Bowl 1983 memento. But it never went beyond a passing thought. The absence in the collection persisted.
On September 9, 2020, 37 years, 7 months, and 18 days after I crossed the line of my first marathon, the package arrived. I finally had the medal in my hands. A plain, cheap, worn out piece of metal. Maybe an inch and a half in diameter and not even attached to a string or lace. Not the prettiest puppy in the litter, but MY medal. The representation of MY achievement on that day, from when I was still a senior in high school.
This medal doesnât fill a hole in my soul, just a hole in my medal collection. With nine marathon finishes I have done better times, travel to other states and countries, ran in some of the biggest races in the world, and accumulated countless stories. How I got my medal 13,746 days later, has just been added to the memories.
