Three times during my training I have failed to run the full distance I had planned to run. I learned an important lesson from each of these “failures” and each has made me a better, more confident runner.
19 July 08. Goal: 8 miles. Actual: 5.5 miles. This run taught me a few things, not the least of which is that Google maps needs to update it’s satellite photo of Randall’s Island! After getting a late start, I ran over the bridge, and quickly discovered that the landscape was very different than I expected. A lot of construction on the island had changed a lot. I ran around as much as I could and on the way back up the steep ramp I died. My mouth was dry and I just couldn’t keep it up. So I learned:
- Having a plan and knowing where I am going is critical if my mind is going to win the war with my body. When I begin a run my body has agreed to the planned run and route. If for any reason the original terms of the contract are altered during the run (late start, route change, etc.), my body immediately considers that a breach of contract, and begins negotiating.
- Drink water—start drinking way before the morning of your run. Start hydrating the whole day prior. The water needs to be in your muscles during the run, not somewhere en route.
17 August 08: Goal: 14 miles. Actual: 11.5 miles. I had been on vacation in Colorado, so it had been a week since my last run. However, that last run had been my longest ever (12 miles) and was in Boulder, CO (over a mile above sea level). I planned to run two 2-mile loops then two 5-mile loops. I had to stop half-way through the last 5-mile loop. I was exhausted and parched. So I learned:
- Stay confident, but don’t get cocky. Despite the great high-altitude run the prior week, the fact was I hadn’t run in a week!
- Loops = bad. Psychologically bad for three reasons. 1) I was too close to home too many times, too tempting. 2) No sense of getting anywhere, just running to run as opposed to getting somewhere. 3) It just gets boring.
- For runs over 10 miles, I need to be able to hydrate during the run.
6 September 08: Goal: 20 miles. Actual: 19.5 miles. Because of constraints on my planning time I had to end my long run not at my house but with a final 1/2 mile loop in the park. In addition to the psychological no-go, I was also parched when I got there. So I learned.
- Finish long runs at a finish line, not a loop right next to your house, dummy!
- Though I had hydrated well before and during the run, I didn’t have access to a sports drink to replenish lost electrolytes. For runs over 17 miles I must be hydrating with water and sports drinks during the run.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Just Do It
I love detail-oriented people…I’m just not one of them. I’ve been reminded of this recently in my training for the Chicago Marathon.
I really dove in to the preparation with both feet. I got a hold of a few training plans online and fashioned a plan that would go well with my busy schedule. I found a website where I could plan my routes on a google map and I planned 1, 2, 3, and 5 mile routes nearby that I could combine as necessary for different mileage. I bought an armband holder for my iPod shuffle so I could listen to tunes as I ran. I talked to the runners I know about what to expect; I asked for their advice. And despite all this work, I discovered that there is one thing I couldn’t get around; one thing that I absolutely had to do.
Run.
It was during one of my early runs that it hit me. “This sucks,” my body told me as I trudged out the last few miles home. “I don’t like it.” Though I still have my hard miles and even hard runs, I have learned to enjoy the training quite a bit. The visceral sense of accomplishment when I finish a 2-3 hour run is amazingly real. But its the tough miles that make the satisfaction so sweet.
And in those moments when my body is pleading with me to stop, my big-picture brain doesn’t help. Telling my aching body that I only have eight or nine miles to go just doesn’t cut it. In those moments all I can do is find that part of my brain that likes the details and lives in the present. In other words, I have to concentrate on running. Left. Right Left. Right. Keep moving forward. It will get better, not by stopping, but by running through it.
Life is like that sometimes. Sure, sometimes you’ve got to call it, and it’s the wise thing to quit. But most of the time, the way out of pain is through it, to keep moving forward. Pain isn’t a bad thing, it’s just a thing, part of life, a blessing of being alive.
I really dove in to the preparation with both feet. I got a hold of a few training plans online and fashioned a plan that would go well with my busy schedule. I found a website where I could plan my routes on a google map and I planned 1, 2, 3, and 5 mile routes nearby that I could combine as necessary for different mileage. I bought an armband holder for my iPod shuffle so I could listen to tunes as I ran. I talked to the runners I know about what to expect; I asked for their advice. And despite all this work, I discovered that there is one thing I couldn’t get around; one thing that I absolutely had to do.
Run.
It was during one of my early runs that it hit me. “This sucks,” my body told me as I trudged out the last few miles home. “I don’t like it.” Though I still have my hard miles and even hard runs, I have learned to enjoy the training quite a bit. The visceral sense of accomplishment when I finish a 2-3 hour run is amazingly real. But its the tough miles that make the satisfaction so sweet.
And in those moments when my body is pleading with me to stop, my big-picture brain doesn’t help. Telling my aching body that I only have eight or nine miles to go just doesn’t cut it. In those moments all I can do is find that part of my brain that likes the details and lives in the present. In other words, I have to concentrate on running. Left. Right Left. Right. Keep moving forward. It will get better, not by stopping, but by running through it.
Life is like that sometimes. Sure, sometimes you’ve got to call it, and it’s the wise thing to quit. But most of the time, the way out of pain is through it, to keep moving forward. Pain isn’t a bad thing, it’s just a thing, part of life, a blessing of being alive.
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