Racing at sixty

I do not race against other sixty-year-olds. I race against the version of me that could not stand up. Every start line is a receipt. The body proved it could train; the race proves it can perform. Here is where I have been, where I am going, and what racing actually looks like on this side of sixty.

What’s on the calendar

My race year at 60 is built around two or three key trail events and a handful of smaller tune-ups. The goal is not to pile up entries; it is to pick races that demand something specific from me — elevation, distance, technical terrain — and then train honestly for what each one asks. I will keep this page current as events are confirmed. If you want to know where I will be and what I am aiming at, this is the place.

Where I’ve been

My first race back was a local 5K at fifty-eight, eighteen months after I could finally walk a mile without pain. I finished with a personal best and a competitive time. That was the whole objective. From there I continued putting in the work. Every run since has been another data point: the body can take this, and it wants more.

How I train

A build begins twelve to sixteen weeks out, and it rests on the same four pillars as the rest of my training — strength, PT, diet, supplements — but the running gets more specific. I add hill repeats to answer what the course will actually ask. I add a long run on terrain that mimics race day. I practice fueling in training so nothing is a surprise on the day. I do not add volume for the sake of volume; at this age, recovery is the limiting factor, not ambition. Two weeks out I taper honestly. The week of the race I sleep more and eat cleaner. I do not try to out-train my age. I try to show up healthy, prepared, and on the right side of the fitness-fatigue line. That is the whole game.

The goals behind the goals

Times and placings matter less than they used to. What I am chasing now is durability — the ability to be standing at a starting line ten years from now, twenty if the body allows. So every race is judged on two axes. First, did I run it well — did I execute the plan, pace it honestly, finish strong. Second, did I recover well — did my back hold, did my knees hold, can I train again next week. A race that scores well on both is a win, regardless of the clock. A race that blows me up for a month is a failure, no matter what the result says. At sixty, the prize is the next race, and the one after that.