6 and 1/2 days on Earth

I used to live on Earth 6 and a half days of the week. The remaining half day was spent absorbed in the fuzzy haze that was race day. With a stare that could pierce a brick wall, I was transported to that floating otherworldly reality where burning competitiveness pumped through my veins. I could give off the impression that I was there talking with you, but you were really getting autopilot responses while I envisioned the crowd-muffling sensation of going race mode. I wasn't always this way.  One time I almost napped through the start of a high school track race. I wasn't serious yet, I knew the joy of running, but had not the need for speed ingrained into my bones, my very being.When I was younger my pre-race routine was somewhat less finicky; I avoided eating Cheese Nips, the one food I threw up during a race, which falls somewhat short of the transcendental trance I was apt to be found in on any given Saturday morning during college.

Some days now I'll daydream about racing during a training run. To the point that I'll catch myself making faces despite the fact that I'm doing 8 minute miles. I have to snap myself out of it so that I don't a) run into the front of the treadmill or b) get lost. Both of which have happened more than I like to admit. 

Now the cloud came not from a sense of nervousness or fear. Races were not life or death, make or break. But, like getting into a good book, I loved the feeling of being completely absorbed. The other 6.5 days of the week my brain is like an overexcited puppy with ADD stuck on a runaway freight train. Here, on race day, I knew exactly what I wanted, what I needed to do, and how I wanted to feel. The simplicity and clarity of it all is therapeutic. A chance for me to release all of the pent up fears, dreams, and frustrations in a channeled display of insanity. For in the end it came down to one thing, putting your everything on the line.  There aren't too many things that can make you, in the moment, know unequivocally that there is only one thing you want. The line. 

"The gun goes off and everything changes...the world changes...and nothing else really matters"

Captured in my natural habitat
(photo: M.Gouzie)

This post was inspired by my second time reading the book "Pain" by Dan Middleman. A good read if you're on the lookout for running novels.

~Robyn "race cadet" Runner

Marathon Motivation

Recently one of my students, a star basketball player, asked me how I stay motivated to run day in and day out. For her, like for so many team sport athletes, the constant games, Win-Loss columns, and stats help them keep track of their progress. If they lose one game, they rebound quickly and move on to the next a few days later. So when my student found out that I'm spending almost half a year training for one race, and I have one shot to get it right (whatever "it" is), she was really puzzled.

I told her about how I set goals for myself and because I have specific goals I can know tell if I'm improving or not. Running often becomes objective; you hit a certain split or you don't, you come in first or you don't. And so even though it will still be months before I race my first marathon, knowing that I have committed to running a BQ means that I need to push myself every day to work for this. If I miss qualifying, I can't whine my way to an entry to Boston for the following year, or use my charming personality or make excuses. The numbers are the numbers. It's kind of scary, and it's extremely motivating.

I told my student about how much money I've invested into this race. Registering for a marathon isn't cheap. I could stop there, but I also have a coach whom I pay monthly. She provides me with training plans and motivation and it's undoubtedly worth every penny. There are, of course, the running shoes every handful of months to keep my legs fresh, and running clothes to keep my warm/dry/cool/fly. After spending so much time at the gym and on the treadmill (hello 13 mile tempo run), I splurged and bought some bluetooth headphones. What started as one race fee has turned into a big investment, and it will be worth it if I can run my best race come May.

And of course I told her about how I love to run. Some days clearly more than other days but I genuinely love to run and that's how I choose to spend my time. If I were passionate about basketball instead, I'd be in the gym every day practicing my shot like she does. Instead, I'm out slogging miles or hitting splits.

All of this talk of motivation made me pause and reflect upon my 2 months of marathon training so far. It's been going really well and I haven't missed a single workout. I don't hate the treadmill and I feel fit and pretty fast. The future is bright. This is great!

...And then this week I totally botched a workout. Like, really badly. Mad at myself for not managing my time better and with really heavy legs, I quit a workout that I love halfway through. I started crying on the treadmill next to some man calmly walking and reading the WSJ and definitely within earshot of a colleague whom I respect and admire (and who I think is pretty cute). I was embarrassed to have to tell my coach that I couldn't finish and really started to doubt myself. I was mentally and physically exhausted. The next day wasn't much better; I had to stop a mile and a half (a mile and a half!!!!) into a mere 3 mile run to stretch out my calves. If I couldn't run 3 miles, how was I supposed to train for, let alone race, a whole marathon? I resigned myself to a week's worth of training of junk miles and dreaded my long run later in the week.

I went to bed and the next day, I tried to just run. I bundled up because I couldn't bear the treadmill once again, and forgot about the tempo I was supposed to run. I chose a route that I love, and just went. A mile in and I didn't feel so bad after all. A few miles in and I threw in some tempo miles after all. I got back to campus in the dark (with my reflector vest, don't worry) (but yeah, time management, huh?) and I felt a million times better. I did actually like running, and I could actually train for a marathon. 7 miles with up-tempo miles wasn't even that hard. I can do this.

A long picture from a long run

So after this volatile training week, I got my motivation back. Just in time, too. Yesterday I ran 14.5 miles--my longest run ever! It certainly took a while and my legs were aching at the end but with my best friend and training partner by my side, a couple of GUs, and some beautiful scenery, I pulled it off and I want more. I'm still daunted for my upcoming and increasingly long long runs, for the inevitable pain (and chafing), but I'm also still motivated to run.