Ryan Hall may take two weeks off after a marathon, but when you're foolish/crazy/stupid enough to sign up for another race just six weeks after a marathon, you have to dig your heels in and get back to training relatively quickly.
Not only do I have another race on the horizon, but the upcoming race is another milestone in my running career. I have my first "ultra marathon" on May 28. An ultra marathon is any distance longer than a marathon, and they generally begin at 50kms and increase in distance from there. I have been wanting to enter the "ultra" world since last year, and when a friend recommended the Sulpher Springs Trail Run, I couldn't resist the temptation to make this my first ultra marathon.
Although I don't plan to run this 50km trail race with the same intensity as I run marathons, I want it to be a performance I can be proud of. So, I set out this weekend to get some trail experience under my belt, and to test my Vibram Five Fingers "Bikila" running shoes to see if I could wear them during the trail race.
Check out my videolog to see how it went.
Showing posts with label running. Show all posts
Showing posts with label running. Show all posts
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Life after the Boston Marathon: my running Nirvana
Accomplishment begets accomplishment
Every new running accomplishment has changed me in some way. My very first road race was a St. Patrick's day 5k. It was hard as hell to complete, but completing it opened a door to a new world for me. I couldn't imagine then how it would change my life. Nine years later, I'm a marathon runner, and my desire to see how else running will shape me continues to burn in my heart.
 |
| Running into the finish line at my first marathon. |
Then I ran the Boston Marathon...
Since Boston, I run with a new spring in my step. Every challenge I meet while running, be it a tough hill or my tired calves, I counter with reminding myself: "you conquered Boston"; and the challenge dissolves in a rush of pride and confidence. I'm not sure I can ever top this feeling, but I'm determined to try.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
The day after my Boston Mararthon "what goes up, must come down"
April 19: 7:00am. After a night of strange dreams and restless body, I'm awake an hour before the alarm. I went to bed thinking 7.5 hours of sleep would be enough to put my body right...but I guess it feels 6.5 will do. Go figure.
As I step out of the hotel bed that I've FINALLY gotten used to sleeping in, I stumble slightly as my feet try and balance my rigid body. My legs are stiff: my quads are sore and the upper part of my hamstrings (just below where they connect into my glutes) are destroyed. I struggle to keep my balance as I hobble towards the bathroom. If my legs could talk, they would be screaming at me in protest. Lowering myself onto the toilet was as painful as the entire last mile of the marathon. Damn this hurts! I turn my head to the left and find that the pain is not limited to my legs: the kink in my neck from yesterday morning persists. It's getting a little easier to look over my left shoulder, but sleep did not fix the problem.
Dear body: you're not the boss of me! As I crawl back into bed intent on catching a few more zzzzz's, my mind plays over the events of yesterday. It feels like it was all a dream - or at least it does from the neck up. Did I really run the Boston Marathon yesterday? Did I really survive the freezing cold wind in the Athlete's Village? Did I really run the most famous marathon route in the world? Did I really spend the last three kilometers averaging a sub-5:00 pace? My heart races as I recall the events of the day before.
What goes up...must come down.
I'm not sure if other runners experience this, but I sometimes experience an emotional crash after a big race. It's kinda like crashing off of a sugar high. So many people sent me warm messages telling me to enjoy my success, but I couldn't ignore a niggling worry that I felt in my heart after the initial thrill of the moment wore off.
I have yet to come to terms with the roll running plays in my life. It gives me confidence. It shapes my body. It sharpens my wit. It keeps me sane. But as an existential thinker I'm always looking at how things plug into the big picture. Yes, it keeps me confident, fit, sane and more; but these are all personal benefits. Does that make "runner Jessica" selfish? If I spend 15 hours/week training to be a better runner, is that 15 hours spent on a selfish pursuit? Could that time have been better spent helping others?
Maybe it's just that race day leaves a bit of an empty cavern in a runner's mind - a cavern that was, for the previous 12 - 16 weeks filled with thoughts about training, nutrition, strategy and sometimes worry. Then comes race day, and it all comes together - all of the thoughts about training, nutrition and strategy are extinguished in a puff of triumphant smoke as you barrel across the finish line - leaving space for other thoughts to rush in. In my case, it's questions that rush in...
April 19: 2:00pm. As I drive out of Boston, the negative thoughts begin to dissipate like rain clouds being burnt up by the radiantly warm sun. Heading West on the I-90, I pass the exits for the various towns that a Boston Marathon runner passes through on the way from Hopkinton to Boylston Street in Boston. Newton, Wellesley, Natick, Framingham. Each name brings me to the edge of happy tears as I recall my 42 km journey. I felt proud again.
Life is a complex marathon in itself, and we can look at the journey of running the way we look at the journey of life. Sometimes it can mean things to others, but sometimes you have to run it just for you.
It's a great feeling when you can strike a balance between the two. Although Boston was mostly a personal experience, I'm comforted with the idea that maybe my marathon journey was a positive experience for others. If one runner learned something from my mistakes during the course of my training...if one spectator felt special because I "low fived" their outstretched hand as I ran along the race route...if one person dares to dream of their own proverbial "Boston Marathon" while witnessing me live mine, then I'm a success. My biggest wish is that my Boston Marathon journey meant something to others.
Dear body: you're not the boss of me! As I crawl back into bed intent on catching a few more zzzzz's, my mind plays over the events of yesterday. It feels like it was all a dream - or at least it does from the neck up. Did I really run the Boston Marathon yesterday? Did I really survive the freezing cold wind in the Athlete's Village? Did I really run the most famous marathon route in the world? Did I really spend the last three kilometers averaging a sub-5:00 pace? My heart races as I recall the events of the day before.
What goes up...must come down.
I'm not sure if other runners experience this, but I sometimes experience an emotional crash after a big race. It's kinda like crashing off of a sugar high. So many people sent me warm messages telling me to enjoy my success, but I couldn't ignore a niggling worry that I felt in my heart after the initial thrill of the moment wore off.
I have yet to come to terms with the roll running plays in my life. It gives me confidence. It shapes my body. It sharpens my wit. It keeps me sane. But as an existential thinker I'm always looking at how things plug into the big picture. Yes, it keeps me confident, fit, sane and more; but these are all personal benefits. Does that make "runner Jessica" selfish? If I spend 15 hours/week training to be a better runner, is that 15 hours spent on a selfish pursuit? Could that time have been better spent helping others?
Maybe it's just that race day leaves a bit of an empty cavern in a runner's mind - a cavern that was, for the previous 12 - 16 weeks filled with thoughts about training, nutrition, strategy and sometimes worry. Then comes race day, and it all comes together - all of the thoughts about training, nutrition and strategy are extinguished in a puff of triumphant smoke as you barrel across the finish line - leaving space for other thoughts to rush in. In my case, it's questions that rush in...
April 19: 2:00pm. As I drive out of Boston, the negative thoughts begin to dissipate like rain clouds being burnt up by the radiantly warm sun. Heading West on the I-90, I pass the exits for the various towns that a Boston Marathon runner passes through on the way from Hopkinton to Boylston Street in Boston. Newton, Wellesley, Natick, Framingham. Each name brings me to the edge of happy tears as I recall my 42 km journey. I felt proud again.
Life is a complex marathon in itself, and we can look at the journey of running the way we look at the journey of life. Sometimes it can mean things to others, but sometimes you have to run it just for you.
It's a great feeling when you can strike a balance between the two. Although Boston was mostly a personal experience, I'm comforted with the idea that maybe my marathon journey was a positive experience for others. If one runner learned something from my mistakes during the course of my training...if one spectator felt special because I "low fived" their outstretched hand as I ran along the race route...if one person dares to dream of their own proverbial "Boston Marathon" while witnessing me live mine, then I'm a success. My biggest wish is that my Boston Marathon journey meant something to others.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Chasing the dream - 1 day till Boston - "Ready or not"
"Twas the night before Boston and all through the house..." 
...well, all through the hotel room; and yes, I'm stirring! I woke up this morning - the final morning before the big day - with only one thing remaining on the list of activities to complete before my dream becomes a reality: the official Boston Marathon pasta dinner. After a quick visit to the marathon expo to exchange a jacket I had bought on Saturday, I found myself with an entire afternoon to kill before the pasta dinner at 6:30. Ugh... All I could do was think about the marathon tomorrow, and I knew that if I thought long enough, then that "thinking" would turn into "worrying".
I consulted my Boston tourist map to see what I could do to distract myself for the afternoon. Not one to settle for small adventures, I decided to forgo the inner city sights for something a little further away....like Cape Cod. A big day on the horizon deserved a big distraction, and I knew the long drive was the perfect way to get my mind off of tomorrow while also (more importantly) keeping me off my feet. Cape Cod it was!
Cape Cod refers to a long stretch of land that jetties out into the sea from the coastal region just South of the Boston area. It's not a single town or beach - it's an entire area. Hmmmmmm... Not knowing where exactly tourists go in Cape Cod, I figured I'd go as far as I could, and I headed for Providence at the far end of the jetty of land.
The drive was longer than I anticipated. After an hour of driving I realized I was not going to make it all the way to Providence, and decided a change of plans would be necessary. I took another look at the map and made a guess at where I should get off the highway. With the exit for "Orleans" approaching, I decided that sounded "nautical" enough, and made my exit hoping I would find myself in quintessential Cape Cod.
Cape Cod reminded me a lot of Prince Edward Island - only a little more modern. The area was dotted with painted wood-sided homes and quaint "country kitchen" style. Then it hit me: I must have some fish and chips while in Cape Cod! I drove to downtown Orleans. It reminded me a lot of the lakeside "beach towns" in Ontario, with subtle differences. After driving up and down the main drag, I decided "Sir Crickets Fish & Chips" was my best option for an authentic Cape Cod food experience. Mmmmmm....good choice. I ordered the local Flounder and chips and tucked in. The Flounder was tender and the chips were crisp. I gobbled furiously and headed out for one final Cape Cod experience: a visit to the beach.
If you had placed me on that beach in Orleans and not told me where I was, I would have sworn I was in Summerside PEI. The short wooden boardwalk lead me over rustic dunes painted with patches of grass. The wind whipped furiously in from the sea bringing small barrel waves over the water as it blew. I was surprised at how many people were there on the chilly Sunday afternoon - there were about 25 cars in the parking lot. I inhaled and filled my lungs with moist sea air as I watched the waves crash and roll along the shore. It was perfect - a completely relaxing distraction from the excitement of the marathon events.
With a pasta dinner at 6:30, I couldn't linger long. I was soon back in my car and barreling back to Boston. Massachusetts drivers are speedy! I was happily cruising along with the fast moving traffic and back in Boston with time to spare. I got changed and made my way to the subway to join the thousands of runners for "the last supper". I exited the subway, headed towards the government buildings and joined the queue for dinner. It wasn't long before I was talking to another fellow runner. Arnold was there with his friend and granddaughter. A New York resident, Arnold has run the New York Marathon 31 times, and Boston six times. It's not often I meet other runners of African descent. There are about as many black marathon runners as there are black snowboarders, and we always notice each other at running events the same way we notice each other on the snowy ski slopes - with big smiles.
Arnold invited me to join his party for dinner and I heartily accepted. We got our food and made our way to find a table. The dinner was a busy place, so we joined a table where two other women were sitting. They were Texas residents and Boston Marathon alumni themselves. The dinner couldn't have worked out better for me as I listened to Arnold and the Texan women talk about the Boston experience. I learned about the challenges of the "Athlete's Village" and that I was facing a few hours of sitting in the cold before the marathon began. They told me about their strategies for dealing with these cold hours before the race, and I made plans to pack extra warm gear with me to survive the chilly outdoor wait before the marathon began at 10:20am.
With a belly full of pasta and a new strategy for surviving race day, I headed back to the hotel. Everything was falling into place. As I laid out my clothes for the morning, I thought about how very person I met was helping me navigate the Boston Marathon experience. Sometimes I'm amazed at how things unravel. I'm so grateful for the people who have come into my life, if only for a fleeting moment, to help me find my way. If you dare to dream and risk to adventure, life often clears a path for you in ways you never imagined.
...well, all through the hotel room; and yes, I'm stirring! I woke up this morning - the final morning before the big day - with only one thing remaining on the list of activities to complete before my dream becomes a reality: the official Boston Marathon pasta dinner. After a quick visit to the marathon expo to exchange a jacket I had bought on Saturday, I found myself with an entire afternoon to kill before the pasta dinner at 6:30. Ugh... All I could do was think about the marathon tomorrow, and I knew that if I thought long enough, then that "thinking" would turn into "worrying".
Cape Cod refers to a long stretch of land that jetties out into the sea from the coastal region just South of the Boston area. It's not a single town or beach - it's an entire area. Hmmmmmm... Not knowing where exactly tourists go in Cape Cod, I figured I'd go as far as I could, and I headed for Providence at the far end of the jetty of land.
The drive was longer than I anticipated. After an hour of driving I realized I was not going to make it all the way to Providence, and decided a change of plans would be necessary. I took another look at the map and made a guess at where I should get off the highway. With the exit for "Orleans" approaching, I decided that sounded "nautical" enough, and made my exit hoping I would find myself in quintessential Cape Cod.
If you had placed me on that beach in Orleans and not told me where I was, I would have sworn I was in Summerside PEI. The short wooden boardwalk lead me over rustic dunes painted with patches of grass. The wind whipped furiously in from the sea bringing small barrel waves over the water as it blew. I was surprised at how many people were there on the chilly Sunday afternoon - there were about 25 cars in the parking lot. I inhaled and filled my lungs with moist sea air as I watched the waves crash and roll along the shore. It was perfect - a completely relaxing distraction from the excitement of the marathon events. With a pasta dinner at 6:30, I couldn't linger long. I was soon back in my car and barreling back to Boston. Massachusetts drivers are speedy! I was happily cruising along with the fast moving traffic and back in Boston with time to spare. I got changed and made my way to the subway to join the thousands of runners for "the last supper". I exited the subway, headed towards the government buildings and joined the queue for dinner. It wasn't long before I was talking to another fellow runner. Arnold was there with his friend and granddaughter. A New York resident, Arnold has run the New York Marathon 31 times, and Boston six times. It's not often I meet other runners of African descent. There are about as many black marathon runners as there are black snowboarders, and we always notice each other at running events the same way we notice each other on the snowy ski slopes - with big smiles.
Arnold invited me to join his party for dinner and I heartily accepted. We got our food and made our way to find a table. The dinner was a busy place, so we joined a table where two other women were sitting. They were Texas residents and Boston Marathon alumni themselves. The dinner couldn't have worked out better for me as I listened to Arnold and the Texan women talk about the Boston experience. I learned about the challenges of the "Athlete's Village" and that I was facing a few hours of sitting in the cold before the marathon began. They told me about their strategies for dealing with these cold hours before the race, and I made plans to pack extra warm gear with me to survive the chilly outdoor wait before the marathon began at 10:20am.
With a belly full of pasta and a new strategy for surviving race day, I headed back to the hotel. Everything was falling into place. As I laid out my clothes for the morning, I thought about how very person I met was helping me navigate the Boston Marathon experience. Sometimes I'm amazed at how things unravel. I'm so grateful for the people who have come into my life, if only for a fleeting moment, to help me find my way. If you dare to dream and risk to adventure, life often clears a path for you in ways you never imagined.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Chasing the dream - 2 days till Boston - "the mother of all marathon expos"
Saturday in Boston was a big day with big plans. I had two very important steps on my marathon journey today:
1. go to runner's expo and pick up my bib
2. buy the official Boston Marathon jacket
I'm not sure what was the bigger incentive to get to the marathon expo early today: getting my bib or getting my official jacket. As winter slowly recedes in Toronto, I have seen more and more Boston Marathon alumni break out their official Boston Marathon jackets for chilly spring runs. The jacket is a coveted possession in the running world. Donning it assumes the wearer has gone through the rigour of training, qualifying and then ultimately running the Boston Marathon. Wearing it outside of the Boston Marathon is as good as wearing your bib and medal. It tells the world what kind of a runner you are: dedicated, passionate and most of all: fast.
I set out Saturday morning eager to get to the expo - it was the only thing that mattered that day. I decided I would take the subway down to Boylston Street. That would give me an opportunity to test the subway and see how easy/hard it would be to get downtown on marathon day. While on the subway, I met another fellow "marathon loner" - an older gentleman named Walt. A seasoned marathoner, he had run Boston a number of times. As we rode down to the expo, we talked about marathons we enjoyed, and the pros and cons of going to marathons alone. We soon found the expo and went our separate ways in search of our bibs.
The "number pick-up" area was grand. With 25,000 runners, Boston is the biggest race I've ever been to. Yes, New York and London are bigger, but I haven't stroked those ones off my "marathon to-do" list yet. The tables with the boxes of bibs stretched for about 150 meters, and each box was manned by super-friendly volunteers - all who seemed to know how important this step in the marathon journey is to the runners. Camera flashes filled the room as family and friends took photos of the runners getting the first
glimpse at their actual Boston Marathon bibs. Smiling faces could be seen in every direction you looked - mine was one of them.
As I picked up my own bib, a swelling wave of emotion took over me. I think I was smiling so wide that you could see my molars tucked back inside my mouth. Noticing that I was alone, one of the volunteers offered to take my picture of me with my bib. I was gushing with pride and holding back the tears.
But there was no time to sit and cry - my Boston Marathon jacket awaits! I went into the next hall and picked up my green race bag with my long sleeve technical t-shirt and hurried off to the expo to find my
jacket. The massive Adidas booth was immediately inside the front doors of the expo....and I could see that it was absolutely jammed with people before I even walked in. The only thing I could compare the Adidas booth to was the subway at rush hour. People moving and pushing in every direction - trying to find their beloved Boston Marathon memorabilia before their size was all gone. Yes, the stock was moving that quickly. It was only the Saturday and sizes were already disappearing. Feeling the urgency of the moment, I flagged an employee and asked him to direct me to the official jackets. He navigated through the sea of people at led me to the racks of jackets. I was really hoping they would be the official Boston Marathon colours (yellow and blue), but they were Boston's beloved green on a black and white jacket. OK...I'll take two.
With jackets, shorts, a tank top and some mugs in hand, I made my way to the checkout. After waiting in the longest line I have ever seen, I paid my money and escaped the madness of the Adidas booth. Phew! The rest of the expo was fairly standard - nothing runners haven't seen before...except for maybe Ryan Hall! Ryan Hall, the American men's marathon record holder, was there selling autographed copies of his book. I took my place in the queue and enjoyed a brief "hello" with one of the great runners of our generation. He's a soft spoken guy with a modesty that transcends words and the patience of
I spent several hours at the booth before making my exit with sore feet and what felt like a million bags in tow. I knew I needed to get off my feet, but not before passing by to take a peek at the infamous Boston Marathon finish line. I walked down Boylston Street taking in the ambiance. It was Mecca for runners - everywhere you looked you saw people carrying their green Boston Marathon bags with their bibs and gear inside. We were all drawn to the finish line like moths to the flame - craving a closer look at the finish line so many runners dream of crossing.
I've met a number of wonderful Bostonians during my stay here - one of which I met at the finish line. Arlenn is a former Montreal who has been living in Boston since the 80's. She saw me photographing myself and offered to help me capture the moment by taking my picture. We spent a little time talking about Canada/USA culture, life and other things. With an open heart, she gave me her phone numbers and offered to be available if I needed help while in the city. What a kind soul - I'll never forget the generosity of her actions and her spirit.
Exhausted from a full day in downtown Boston, I took the subway back home - green bag proudly slung over my shoulder indicating that I soon would join the collective of runners who have had the opportunity to run the Boston Marathon. I felt like a star.
1. go to runner's expo and pick up my bib
2. buy the official Boston Marathon jacket
I'm not sure what was the bigger incentive to get to the marathon expo early today: getting my bib or getting my official jacket. As winter slowly recedes in Toronto, I have seen more and more Boston Marathon alumni break out their official Boston Marathon jackets for chilly spring runs. The jacket is a coveted possession in the running world. Donning it assumes the wearer has gone through the rigour of training, qualifying and then ultimately running the Boston Marathon. Wearing it outside of the Boston Marathon is as good as wearing your bib and medal. It tells the world what kind of a runner you are: dedicated, passionate and most of all: fast.
I set out Saturday morning eager to get to the expo - it was the only thing that mattered that day. I decided I would take the subway down to Boylston Street. That would give me an opportunity to test the subway and see how easy/hard it would be to get downtown on marathon day. While on the subway, I met another fellow "marathon loner" - an older gentleman named Walt. A seasoned marathoner, he had run Boston a number of times. As we rode down to the expo, we talked about marathons we enjoyed, and the pros and cons of going to marathons alone. We soon found the expo and went our separate ways in search of our bibs.
The "number pick-up" area was grand. With 25,000 runners, Boston is the biggest race I've ever been to. Yes, New York and London are bigger, but I haven't stroked those ones off my "marathon to-do" list yet. The tables with the boxes of bibs stretched for about 150 meters, and each box was manned by super-friendly volunteers - all who seemed to know how important this step in the marathon journey is to the runners. Camera flashes filled the room as family and friends took photos of the runners getting the first
As I picked up my own bib, a swelling wave of emotion took over me. I think I was smiling so wide that you could see my molars tucked back inside my mouth. Noticing that I was alone, one of the volunteers offered to take my picture of me with my bib. I was gushing with pride and holding back the tears.
But there was no time to sit and cry - my Boston Marathon jacket awaits! I went into the next hall and picked up my green race bag with my long sleeve technical t-shirt and hurried off to the expo to find my
jacket. The massive Adidas booth was immediately inside the front doors of the expo....and I could see that it was absolutely jammed with people before I even walked in. The only thing I could compare the Adidas booth to was the subway at rush hour. People moving and pushing in every direction - trying to find their beloved Boston Marathon memorabilia before their size was all gone. Yes, the stock was moving that quickly. It was only the Saturday and sizes were already disappearing. Feeling the urgency of the moment, I flagged an employee and asked him to direct me to the official jackets. He navigated through the sea of people at led me to the racks of jackets. I was really hoping they would be the official Boston Marathon colours (yellow and blue), but they were Boston's beloved green on a black and white jacket. OK...I'll take two.
With jackets, shorts, a tank top and some mugs in hand, I made my way to the checkout. After waiting in the longest line I have ever seen, I paid my money and escaped the madness of the Adidas booth. Phew! The rest of the expo was fairly standard - nothing runners haven't seen before...except for maybe Ryan Hall! Ryan Hall, the American men's marathon record holder, was there selling autographed copies of his book. I took my place in the queue and enjoyed a brief "hello" with one of the great runners of our generation. He's a soft spoken guy with a modesty that transcends words and the patience of angels. He gave me a smile, shook my hand and wished me luck before posing for a photo.
I've met a number of wonderful Bostonians during my stay here - one of which I met at the finish line. Arlenn is a former Montreal who has been living in Boston since the 80's. She saw me photographing myself and offered to help me capture the moment by taking my picture. We spent a little time talking about Canada/USA culture, life and other things. With an open heart, she gave me her phone numbers and offered to be available if I needed help while in the city. What a kind soul - I'll never forget the generosity of her actions and her spirit. Exhausted from a full day in downtown Boston, I took the subway back home - green bag proudly slung over my shoulder indicating that I soon would join the collective of runners who have had the opportunity to run the Boston Marathon. I felt like a star.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Chasing the dream - 5 weeks till Boston
When I opened my blog today to see that my last Boston Marathon post was three weeks ago, my first reaction was, "did I lose a post somewhere in cyberspace?". Then I yawned....and that explained what happened to my last post: it got sucked into the same vortex that the rest of my life gets sucked into when I'm clocking big miles.
Dealing with training related fatigue
Wow, I can't believe it's now five weeks until the Boston Marathon. The only thing that makes it completely believable is the feeling that seems to hang over my head almost every day - like a dark cloud with a really bright silver lining. The side effect of a 6-day per week training schedule is fatigue, and the side effects of fatigue are anxiety and doubt. If I hadn't been through the entire marathon training cycle before, then I would likely be wanting off the marathon train right about now.
If you are currently (or planning to) train for a marathon, don't be surprised if anxiety and doubt creep up on your shortly after fatigue settles in. This is where a sense of discipline trumps one's love for running as the foundation of marathon success. Two of my five runs last week were only completed (and started) because I talked myself out of the desire to chill in my PJ's instead of lacing up my running shoes.
As I mentioned before: if I wasn't familiar with this process, I might be feeling hopeless right now; but I know that the fatigue is normal - not only because the same thing happened to me last year when I was running high mileage, but also because I've heard and read similar stories from other distance runners. As I slogged through the 30 km hilly distance on Sunday, I searched my mind and soul for anything that could inspire me to keep going in spite of the deep spiritual and emotional fatigue I was feeling. Fending off negative thoughts is an important key to finishing and *enjoying* long runs. If you can master your mind, you can master distances that you never believed you were capable of.
As I sifted through the usual motivational thoughts, I finally stumbled upon the one thought that has resurrected me from more than one tough spot over the last year. The magic motivator was not to think about a sports hero or a reward that I would enjoy when I finally got through the challenging moment. It was faith. You don't have to be religious to benefit from the feeling of faith - I certainly am not. The faith that fueled me was a faith in the plan - faith that if I stuck to my training and put in the work, then my dedication and faith would be rewarded with a great marathon day.
Have faith in your plan
Training my first marathon taught me more about running than the previous three years of training for shorter distances all put together. Shorter distances were not "scary" enough to frighten me into a solid training regime. Most of the time I simply ran according to how I felt. If I felt like running a long distance, then I did. If I felt like running fast, then I did. I wasn't running poorly, but then I wasn't excelling either.
When I trained for my first marathon, I followed a very strategic plan. I learned words like "tempo", "fartlek" and "LSD" (long slow distance). I learned about "negative splits" and that going slow was as important as going fast. I pushed hard - so hard that on the day of my final long run before beginning my taper, I succumbed to the fatigue and welled up in tears part way through the rainy 33km distance. The combination of fatigue and worry over the marathon just two short weeks away resulted in a mid-run breakdown.
I managed to stop crying long enough to get myself home, but the waterworks resumed shortly after I walked through my door. I felt so burnt out, and I couldn't figure out how I was going to run a marathon feeling the way I did. The next two weeks were tough - but for different reasons. I worried about tapering. I worried about losing the strength and speed I had worked so hard to develop during the months prior to the taper. I fought the desire to keep running long distances and focused on resting my body - hoping that the marathon success formula would work for me.
When marathon day came around, I made it to the start line with nothing but my four months of training under my belt, and the faith that it was all going to come together in a successful race. And come together it did. As the miles and minutes passed, I was surprised at how strong I felt. When I crossed the half marathon mark, I felt fantastic. Then I crossed the 30 km mark - still feeling fantastic. I decided to throw caution to the wind and I ran faster than I had planned. Mile after mile, I amazed myself, and I crossed the finish line feeling tired but not broken. My first marathon was everything I dreamed it would be.
Strategy for success
Spring is here, and many runners are preparing for the plethora of races that fill the fair weather months. If you're working towards a distance you've never run before - perhaps your pursuing your first marathon - my message to you is: make a plan and have faith in it. Do your research on tried and tested training plans and follow them knowing that you will get OUT of running exactly what you put IN to running. Do the work, respect your taper, and believe that sticking to your plan through all of the highs and lows, will pay off in a great race.
Dealing with training related fatigueWow, I can't believe it's now five weeks until the Boston Marathon. The only thing that makes it completely believable is the feeling that seems to hang over my head almost every day - like a dark cloud with a really bright silver lining. The side effect of a 6-day per week training schedule is fatigue, and the side effects of fatigue are anxiety and doubt. If I hadn't been through the entire marathon training cycle before, then I would likely be wanting off the marathon train right about now.
If you are currently (or planning to) train for a marathon, don't be surprised if anxiety and doubt creep up on your shortly after fatigue settles in. This is where a sense of discipline trumps one's love for running as the foundation of marathon success. Two of my five runs last week were only completed (and started) because I talked myself out of the desire to chill in my PJ's instead of lacing up my running shoes.
As I mentioned before: if I wasn't familiar with this process, I might be feeling hopeless right now; but I know that the fatigue is normal - not only because the same thing happened to me last year when I was running high mileage, but also because I've heard and read similar stories from other distance runners. As I slogged through the 30 km hilly distance on Sunday, I searched my mind and soul for anything that could inspire me to keep going in spite of the deep spiritual and emotional fatigue I was feeling. Fending off negative thoughts is an important key to finishing and *enjoying* long runs. If you can master your mind, you can master distances that you never believed you were capable of.
As I sifted through the usual motivational thoughts, I finally stumbled upon the one thought that has resurrected me from more than one tough spot over the last year. The magic motivator was not to think about a sports hero or a reward that I would enjoy when I finally got through the challenging moment. It was faith. You don't have to be religious to benefit from the feeling of faith - I certainly am not. The faith that fueled me was a faith in the plan - faith that if I stuck to my training and put in the work, then my dedication and faith would be rewarded with a great marathon day.
Have faith in your planTraining my first marathon taught me more about running than the previous three years of training for shorter distances all put together. Shorter distances were not "scary" enough to frighten me into a solid training regime. Most of the time I simply ran according to how I felt. If I felt like running a long distance, then I did. If I felt like running fast, then I did. I wasn't running poorly, but then I wasn't excelling either.
When I trained for my first marathon, I followed a very strategic plan. I learned words like "tempo", "fartlek" and "LSD" (long slow distance). I learned about "negative splits" and that going slow was as important as going fast. I pushed hard - so hard that on the day of my final long run before beginning my taper, I succumbed to the fatigue and welled up in tears part way through the rainy 33km distance. The combination of fatigue and worry over the marathon just two short weeks away resulted in a mid-run breakdown.
I managed to stop crying long enough to get myself home, but the waterworks resumed shortly after I walked through my door. I felt so burnt out, and I couldn't figure out how I was going to run a marathon feeling the way I did. The next two weeks were tough - but for different reasons. I worried about tapering. I worried about losing the strength and speed I had worked so hard to develop during the months prior to the taper. I fought the desire to keep running long distances and focused on resting my body - hoping that the marathon success formula would work for me.
When marathon day came around, I made it to the start line with nothing but my four months of training under my belt, and the faith that it was all going to come together in a successful race. And come together it did. As the miles and minutes passed, I was surprised at how strong I felt. When I crossed the half marathon mark, I felt fantastic. Then I crossed the 30 km mark - still feeling fantastic. I decided to throw caution to the wind and I ran faster than I had planned. Mile after mile, I amazed myself, and I crossed the finish line feeling tired but not broken. My first marathon was everything I dreamed it would be.
Strategy for success
Spring is here, and many runners are preparing for the plethora of races that fill the fair weather months. If you're working towards a distance you've never run before - perhaps your pursuing your first marathon - my message to you is: make a plan and have faith in it. Do your research on tried and tested training plans and follow them knowing that you will get OUT of running exactly what you put IN to running. Do the work, respect your taper, and believe that sticking to your plan through all of the highs and lows, will pay off in a great race.
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