It took Kathy Martin 11:16.6 to set a W60 world indoor record in the 3000 this season. It took her 10 years to get the attention she deserves in The New York Times. Sunday’s edition carried a revealing profile by Pulitzer Prize winner Barry Bearak. Along with a must-see video, the 3,000-word piece, which quotes moi, talks about her recent knee injury — which led her to scratch at Bloomington. But this anecdote tells you all you need to know about Kathy and her frame of mind: It was not until she was in her late 40s that someone persuaded her to enter a track meet. She competed as a master in events like the mile and the 3,000 meters. She recalled: “I did a few events, and they said, ‘You know, you’re just a few seconds from the world record.’ “I said: ‘Really? There are records?’ ” Classic unassuming Kathy.

NYT perfectly depicts Kathy's joy in running with kidlets (and beating them).

Here’s the newsy part of the profile, which includes mention of other stars:

In Bloomington, at the national indoor championships, 15 world records fell during the three-day meet, even with Martin sitting out. The oldest athlete to set a record was the rail-thin 92-year-old Ralph Maxwell, a retired North Dakota judge who bettered his own standard in the pentathlon. He said he came to track and field at 74, “reacting with shame and disgust at the flabby, flaccid body” he saw in the mirror.

In 2010, Maxwell was named the Master Male Athlete of the Year by USA Track and Field, the sport’s national governing body. There are not many competitors in their 80s and 90s, and each time Maxwell tried a new event, more success accrued. “I’d never hurdled until I was 88, and the first time I did it, I set a world record,” he said.

Men more commonly have a long history in sport. Bill Collins, 61, set a world mark of 7.58 seconds in the 60 meters in Bloomington. The record was especially noteworthy because he was staging a comeback after a nerve disorder rendered his legs temporarily useless last year. But Collins was a champion sprinter since high school and has been a top runner ever since.

The stories of many of the older women are much like Kathy Martin’s, their athletic ability coming as a revelation when they were in their 30s, 40s or 50s. Among the eye-popping performances in Bloomington was the 200 meters run by Kathy Bergen, 72, whose time, 31.86, eclipsed her own world record.

Bergen did not begin competing until she was 54. Her husband had decided to enter a masters meet, and she wondered if there was something she could try. She recalled, “I asked him what I could do, and he said running; everyone can run.”

This was an intriguing notion. She had memories of being fast as a girl. But she grew up in Brooklyn long before Title IX opened playing fields and gyms to women. The speed in her legs went untested and ignored.

“I would so love to know what I could have done as a kid,” she said after setting her record. “But back then, there weren’t any women doing the men’s stuff.”

Pain Management

Back in New York, the members of Team Martin anxiously flexed and poked and squeezed their star’s troublesome left leg. The world masters championships begin Tuesday. Would Martin heal in time?

The Running Realtor feared she had a torn meniscus, a rip in the cartilage that provides structure to the knee. But the consensus was that Martin was simply out of alignment. That 50-kilometer race March 4 probably was too much of a strain. Trained hands now needed to soothe her muscles and manipulate everything back into its proper place.

Within the next two weeks, Martin experimented with some slow running: first two miles, then five. She did quarter-mile intervals. She tried different shoes. She altered her stride. She ran with the family dog. Each day, the leg seemed to feel better. Eventually, she was pain free, and yet the knee still felt slightly unstable.

“I’m optimistic,” she said before boarding a plane for Finland. “If it turns out I can’t run, it’ll be disappointing, but I have to keep it in perspective. It’s not a heart attack. It’s not a diagnosis of anything terminal.”

She has years of running ahead of her and new age brackets to conquer. Older may necessarily mean slower, but it did not mean sluggish. That evening jog 30 years ago with her husband had changed her life, and now the vitality of running was an essential part of it.

“I hope I do this until the day I die,” she said. “I want to be all used up, just a wisp of dust left.”