Back in the Saddle

I’m back in the saddle again.

A short warm up run

To start the work week.

I huff and I plod along,

Enjoying the green buds and the birds’ chirp,

The start of spring.

I think about how I felt in NYC,

A lean, mean marathon machine.

That was a long time ago.

I may be out of shape, 

But my mind is stronger than my body.

Stronger than when I started this quest.

I’ve grown.

Training Miles are Not the Same as Race Miles, but so Important

A couple weeks ago, what I thought would be an easy Saturday long run was unexpectedly exhausting and slow.  Since Fat Tuesday was that week, we were doing a new route so we could visit a Polish deli and eat paczkis.  Given that the total mileage was lower than previous weeks, and the weather was unseasonably warm, I was excited to do the run. 

As always, the first few miles are the easiest, since everyone was running together and generally chatty.  We got to the first water stop, about 2.5 miles in, and I realized that I would be running the rest of the 13 by myself; most of the people at my pace were turning around, done for the day.

After taking some of our much appreciated club Gatorade, I pushed forward, surprised at the chill and wind in the air.  Even though the sun had come over the horizon, the wind kept blowing every bit of heat I could generate away.  I just plowed on, back to the water stop, where I discovered the deli was closed until 9 am.  No matter to me, because it was just about accruing mileage.  The paczkis were just a bonus.

I had a long time to think as I plodded along, and the one thing that kept going through my mind was that training miles are so much harder than race miles.  It’s not something that is talked about much, but a race is the culmination of the training.  Even in high school and college, where we raced every weekend, the goal was to peak at conference or Regionals or Sectionals or State or Nationals.  If you prepared all year, that last race was a breeze.  If not, it was the end of a difficult season.

All of my marathons have been challenging, despite being mostly prepared for all of them.  I can’t possibly imagine what it would be like to not be prepared for that effort.  Even so, I hear people talk in corrals about being less than prepared and read blogs about people who struggled to find the time to do that last long training run.  Why?  Because training for a race is nothing like that cute montage in the movies.  When you’re a 12 min marathoner, running a marathon is an all-day event, so doing those long training runs can be an all-day event.  It’s long and slow and boring and tiring, and in this “shiny object” sort of world, it’s so much easier to fill one’s time with fun instead of boring.  Perhaps, though, my marathon experiences make me appreciate all those training runs because I’m not needing a race to motivate me.

On today’s run, I was talking with a friend about training.  I have learned by watching successful figure skaters (even in the “recreational” adult ranks) that to get results, you truly have to treat training like a part time job.  Training has to be a priority in your schedule, as does recovery, and sessions need to be organized in a way to balance with the rest of life.  In addition, making sure to get enough sleep at night and to eat a healthy diet are key components as well.

Last night I was frustrated over having to do 14 miles because it was going to take all morning to complete.  It would be so nice to be faster, to not have to schedule all day for a long training run.  How quickly I have forgotten that “fast” and “slow” are relative terms, and that no matter what pace, a long training run can be difficult and boring.  (And often, a faster runner just adds miles to the run rather than make it shorter.)

Epilogue:  I spent the entire next week sick with a bug, so I’m guessing it was why the paczki run was so tough.  I’m falling a bit behind with mileage in February so hopefully the weather will warm up and I’ll be able to add some miles in soon!

In Memory of Lox

Last Wednesday’s fun run included laps around a local lake.  The streets didn’t have sidewalks, and the up and down of the hills reminded me of running around my hometown (when I actually did my off-season training).

The sun was slowly setting, and on the last lap, I saw a house where the husband was working out in the garage.  The house was clearly similar to ones I remembered seeing on family walks as a child—a greenhouse window in the kitchen, a garage filled with tools, a dark brown stained exterior, a wooded lawn—and then I flashed back to another memory from college.

After sophomore year, I decided to stay on campus over the summer, working at the admissions office, as did many of my friends who were in a fraternity.  The university rented out the fraternity houses to the summer student employees, so I rented a room in my friends’ fraternity house.  I had run on the cross country team my sophomore year, but academics—and a cranky knee—caused me to stop running and focus on my classwork. 

Shortly after we moved in, one of my teammates asked if anyone wanted to join him on an evening walk around the neighborhood.  Remembering my childhood walks, I jumped at the chance.  It was a chat about hopes and dreams and happy memories.

That summer—and that conversation—was probably the last time we spent significant time together.  He went off to graduate summa cum laude, finish med school, and become chief resident at a hospital, I barely graduated and got a job as a bench chemist, laid off, unemployed, eventually landing at a consulting firm doing quality and validation work. 

Had you told me back then, that it would be me, not him, to finish the Chicago marathon first, I wouldn’t have believed you.  While training for the 2003 Chicago Marathon, he was hit by a car and killed.  I ran the 2013 Chicago Marathon in his memory.  He would have easily qualified for the Boston Marathon, so if I qualify, it will be run in his memory as well.