Six months and counting. Yes indeed. The event is coming which I just realized I've unknowingly planned my whole life around. Hey, wisdom is good even when it comes late. For me, I'm just lucky when it comes at all.

And just what is this monumental event? No, it's not the millennium. For me, that takes a back seat. In the front seat is the fact that in the year 2000, I become a masters runner.

I know this birthday will not even allow me a discount pass at the movies so you may wonder what is the great significance. Especially when I haven't really staked my place in the Running Hall of Fame for the first 40 years of my life.

Well, after reading the latest article on peaking for a marathon and how that process involves tapering over a three week period, I concluded that I've been pretty much tapering since college. I'm now ready to peak.

I figure if I need a little less than a month to taper for a marathon, then the direct correlation would be a tapering of about eighteen years for my career as a masters runner. Three weeks of easy running to prime oneself to race 26 miles and eighteen years of inadequate effort to race as a masters division runner for forty more years. Sounds about right to me. Hey, I put in plenty of miles before age 22. I established a base from which to taper.

Now some may question how am I to achieve this wealth of success when my entire running career has been built on the consistency of some very marginal performances. My conclusion is quite simple. The multitude of individuals who have been beating me at races over the last twenty years are going to have burned out. Wasted. Trained too hard. Depleted. Tortoise and hare stuff here. Na, na, na, na, na, na!

They have not paced themselves as wisely as I have. Lactate threshold? I haven't even come close to finding mine. Tempo runs have been temporarily on hold for the last few decades. I'm ready to test my VO2 Max as I've had my V02 consistently at a minimum.

My lack of tough intervals over the years will enable me to dust off and bring forth that strong Dave Wottle-type kick at the end of the race. I have kept the delicate balance and have done just enough speed work to avoid complete atrophy of my ability to accelerate. I think.

I'm primed. My potential has been untapped. Jimmy Buffet sang Pirate at 40, I'm singing Peaking at 40.

Of course I recognize that the feeling of gazelle-like speed has been virtually non-existent in my limbs for quite some time. But I'm certain I can retrieve it. There have been those few and far between days among months of slow runs where I fortuitously experience rapid leg turnover. I can actually momentarily relive those youthful days of speed flowing through my legs as I glide along effortlessly and take advantage of the miraculous alignment of my biorthyms. I know it would take me 136 hours to recover from these infrequent encounters with speed, but sufficient training will reduce that number significantly. I hope.

I know it's going to take a lot of work and the concept of training as opposed to just running will have to creep back in to my vocabulary. But I'm ready. I've been saving myself through many years of inconsistent effort. They say that rest is important for masters runners and I've had more than my fair share of placidity for quite some time now. I'm well stocked with years of repose.

Now I do recognize that this theory would mean that perhaps the one who's actually done no physical activity over his lifetime would be in the best position to mount an assault on the masters records. I think it's more to the benefit of the one whose body has treaded that fine line between exertion and inactivity. Between disuse and utilization.

Don't try to dissuade me by telling me that strong sub-masters runners are continuing their dominance post forty. If that's the case I can wait them out. I can put off the more demanding training for a few more years. Just don't forget to tell me when they begin to slow down. I can do patient peaking.

They'll come back to me at some point. And hey, at least I may have something more to look forward to on my eightieth birthday. And maybe I don't have to begin those twice-a-day training runs just yet.