18 weeks until the Boston Marathon. My training starts today! Well, kind of anyway. Day 1 of my 18 week training program starts with a Rest/Cross-training Day. So, technically training starts today, but my first run isn’t until tomorrow. I am excited to start. The 5 weeks since New York have consisted of free form training, and to a degree I’ve been feeling a bit at sea. It will be nice to be able to look at the schedule and know what to expect for the coming week.
I will be following the Pfitz 18/55 program (for 18 weeks/maxing out at 55 miles per week) from his book, Advanced Marathoning. I used his 12/55 program in my BQ at Smuttynose, and I think that the 18 week program can advance my marathoning even further. I highly recommend his book. You don’t need to be an advanced marathoner to use it. I used it to great success and by no means am I an advanced marathoner. It is chock full of useful advice and has programs ranging for those willing to run a max of 55 mile/week (starts with 33 miles/week) to those crazy enough to run over 105 miles/week. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around that one. 105 Frakking Miles? Along with advice on marathon training, Pfitz also outlines some core exercises, strength training and a good stretching regimen. I plan on using them all as I train for my assault on the Newton Hills (my downfall last year).
Anyway, so here I am – the first day of my Boston Marathon training and I don’t get to run. I guess it’s a perfect time to start the core and strength training, right?
For those of you running Boston this year, when do you start your training? Have you already started? What program are you going with? And for those running other Spring marathons, what programs do you use? Or are you like my hero, the British Bulldog, Steve Spiers (he recently defended his Cayman Islands Marathon Title…Rock Star!), who just kind of makes it up as he goes?
So it’s finally sinking in. I did it. Almost 2 years ago I started running. Shortly thereafter I had the audacity to think I could qualify for Boston. A little under a year ago, my first shot ended in a Frankenstein’s Monster walk (3:54). Next came the surprise of Boston 2010 as an invitational runner ending in heartbreak on Heartbreak Hill (3:32). That was followed 2 weeks later with the oppressive heat and humidity of Providence (3:30). Although I finished each of those marathons, they all ended in a failed attempt to qualify. I was inching closer, but a BQ still seemed like an impossibly difficult dream.
But two and a half weeks ago, I did it. 3:19:19. I qualified for Boston with a little room to spare. It has finally sunk in (I was one of the lucky one who signed up Monday morning at 9AM when registration opened). With New York less than 3 weeks away I have been wondering, “what now?” Whether I decide to gun for 3:15 in New York or not, the truth is, for the last 16 months I have been focusing on one thing – a BQ. As amazing as the feeling of finally accomplishing that goal was, the joy was in the journey. My three failed attempts fueled a fire and made the story that much more meaningful to me.
That journey is done, and despite my growing excitement for the New York Marathon and my anticipation of running Boston in both 2011 and 2012 (hopefully), I am now left with a feeling that something is missing. In my world of running, I have done it! I have achieved my goal. It is time for a new journey. So what’s next? What’s the next goal? I’m still not sure, but here are two things that I am considering.
First, the probably impossible dream of a sub-3:00 marathon. Despite taking nearly 35 minutes off of my marathon time in just over 11 months, the idea of taking off another 20 minutes sounds downright insane. Plus, at my age, I’ll be lucky if I don’t start slowing down significantly very soon. Still, it’s alluring. Much like being able to say I BQ’d, how cool would it be to be able to say I had a sub-3:00 marathon under my belt?
The other possibility that I am seriously thinking about (and yes, Doug, I do remember that I did promise I would do it if I qualified for Boston at Smuttynose) is running the Vermont 50 this coming September. I have never run an ultra, and 50 miles is about as far as I ever want to go. I am definitely intrigued by the idea. But this isn’t just 50 flat miles. No, this is 50 miles through the Vermont terrain. The elevation profile frightens me. Because Smuttynose was run late in the year, I actually not only qualified for Boston 2011, but also Boston 2012 as well, so there won’t be the urgency of running another marathon in the fall – that is if the BAA doesn’t change the requirements for qualifying in light of this years rapid close. If they do, that may be the tipping point for me.
So, what do you think? Do I go back to Hampton next October and shoot for a sub-3:00 marathon or do I head to the mountains of Vermont and run a 50 mile race?
Fortunately, I don’t have to decide just yet, so I’m going to concentrate on New York. 3:15 anyone?
Last night…no, check that, yesterday afternoon registration for the 115th Boston Marathon closed – 8 hours after it had opened. This was, by far, faster than last year’s record of several weeks, which had in turn shattered the previous record set the year before of a couple of months. Yup, if you had managed to BQ in the last 12 month months, but didn’t have phone or internet access yesterday, you are out of luck. True, you can run for a charity or get lucky like I did last year by having an Invitational Entry handed to you, but if you simply wanted to register, and you went to do it after work yesterday, it’s “Sorry Charlie.”
I was lucky. I got through on the computer at around lunch time. Next year, who knows if that will be early enough.
8 hours.
8 FRAKKING HOURS!!!
As excited as I am, I am now a little nervous. Another Twitter friend (@edschober) had the wisdom to point out, “[I] Bet the qualifying times for 2012 #bostonmarathon will be adjusted down…or they’ll triple the entry fee.” My sudden fear now is that after BQ’ing for 2011 and 2012, I may get UBQ’s (UnBostonQualified) for 2012. I understand the reasoning. Although Boston isn’t the sole reason people run marathons in the Fall, there is a large contingent of runners who work all Summer to run a marathon in the Fall with the hopes of qualifying for Boston in the Spring. Boston closing in 8 hours eliminated many of the Fall marathons, including the biggest one, New York City, from that equation.
If the BAA (Boston Athletic Association) doesn’t lower the times, you can bet that early fall marathons like Bay State and Smuttynose will continue to grow in popularity, possibly driving up prices across the board. I don’t know what the answer is. It probably makes more sense for the BAA to lower the time rather than raise the fees (though who knows, maybe they’ll do both).
One final thought – let’s stop bashing the charity runners for this. They only make up 5% of the field AND they do a lot of good. Quite honestly, Boston would have closed yesterday regardless of whether there were charity slots or not.
Bottom line is that in all likelihood, I am going to have to get faster…or older faster, and I think I’m okay with that…I just hope that if the BAA lowers the times, they keep it within striking distance.
UPDATED: One last “last thought” – if runners are going to get angry at other runners for Boston filling up so quickly, they should be looking at runners like me. Last year I was lucky enough to land an Invitational Entry and this year I was fortunate to qualify by a mere 1:40. Please leave the charity runners out of it.
All week I had been uncharacteristically unnervous. It may have been the fact that this was going to be my 4th marathon in less than 12 months or maybe it was the focused training schedule I had been following. Either way, all week I had walked around with a sense of calm. That is, until I put the car in reverse to pull out of the garage and head up to Hampton Beach early Sunday morning. As soon as the car began to move, my stomach started to do back flips. I cranked up the music, but the whole way up, the butterflies in my stomach continued to get bigger and bigger. As I listened to Stevie Wonder, Survivor, Queen, AC/DC among others, I started to visualize the race. I tried to see myself crossing the finish line. Earlier in the week, Brendan, my dailymile brother, had predicted a 3:19:22 finish for me. The more I thought about it, the more overwhelmed I became.
Upon finally arriving in Hampton, I promptly made my way to the check-in tent. A large group of dailymilers had agreed to meet at 7:30 to hang out, warm up and meet. As I made my way to the tent I heard someone say, “there’s a dailymile shirt”. I turned to find a group of people, among them was Doug, from Lex’s Run, my buddy Pete, who had been the first cyber-runner to ever reach out to me, and Brendan, my brother who I was going to run this marathon with. I had met Pete before and had run several races with Doug, but this was the first time I was meeting Brendan. The funny part is that we knew each other. Through dailymile and Twitter we have become good friends. There was no awkward moment, it was just two friends getting together.
Pete, Brendan and me
Most of the dailymile/Twitter Smuttynose party - pre-race
After a bit of chatting it was time to head to the start.
Before heading to the corral, we had to get a picture of Team Kinvara:
Team Saucony Kinvara - Brendan, Pete and Me
Yes, I know, those aren’t Vibrams. They aren’t my funny toe shoes. Yes I do still run in them (my Vibrams), but no, I didn’t run in them for this race. It’s probably the topic of another post, but suffice it to say that it was a game time decision that I went with the Kinvaras, and I don’t regret it one bit. They are an amazing shoe! If you aren’t ready for Vibrams, but you want a natural shoe that is unbelievably light and performs incredibly, go out and get a pair.
Now back to your regularly scheduled blog post.
In the swirl of the crowd, we had lost Pete. It was probably for the best. Although we had talked about running together, as we got into the last week, Pete’s confidence had grown and he had decided that he was going to go for 3:15 (the required time to BQ* for a young kid like him). Brendan and I made our way to the starting area. Doug, who was running the half, found us and said, “you’ve put in all the work. You’ve already done it. Now it’s time to take your victory lap. Go get it.” Inspiring words.
Brendan and I shook hands, gave each other a hug and waited for the starting gun. Suddenly the crowd started moving. We hadn’t heard the gun, but no matter. It took us nearly a minute to get to the actual starting line and when we crossed it, you could hear our watches beep in unison.
:38 / 1:16 / 1:54 / 2:32 / 3:10 – these numbers, like the numbers from LOST, were swirling around my head all week leading up to the race. They were the 5 mile splits I knew I needed to maintain a relatively steady pace throughout. I knew that if I hit mile 25 with a 3:10, I would be close, with a little room to spare. It meant that I would be able to run 9:09 minutes per mile for the last 1.2 and still cross the finish line with a 3:20:59. I didn’t want it to be that close though. I knew I had to have at least a couple of minutes in the bank. I remembered the difficulty of finishing the last 3 miles at both Boston and Providence. No, I didn’t want it to be that close. Still, I knew that if I could maintain 38 minute per 5 mile splits, I would in all likelihood be okay.
The first mile involved Brendan and I weaving our way in and out of the crowd. It was a little frustrating, but there was no sense in trying to sprint through.
Brendan (#2334) and I working our way through the crowd at the start - I know, heel striking that early is NOT a good sign - photo courtest of JiminMaine
We didn’t hit the first mile marker until nearly 8:00, way too slow for our goal. Fortunately, by the time we hit the second mile marker the crowds had thinned a bit and we were able to get on pace. Mile 2 arrived in 7:36. As we made the first big turn into the town of Hampton I was unable to resist the urge to get away from the crowds behind us. Without really thinking about it, I picked up the pace. We hit mile 3 in a too quick 7:21. Now some of you non-runners may be asking yourself, what the heck’s the difference between a 7:40 mile and a 7:20 mile? Does it really make a difference? Well, it’s not necessarily what it does to you right then, but more how it affects you 10 – 15 miles down the line. Anyway, despite initially being worried about it, I realized that we were back on pace for my 5 mile splits of 38 minutes. The next two miles were fairly uneventful and we hit the 5 mile marker in 37:54. Right on target. The first 5 miles went by almost too easily.
3 miles later we made our way to the coast. The wind was still relatively calm. In the distance I was surprised to see someone strip off his camelback hydration system and throw it into the grass. I yelled, “Nice toss!” and he waved an arm. A few minutes later Brendan and I caught up to him. A bit of chit-chat and we discovered that Ralph was making an attempt at a BQ of 3:20 as well. This was Ralph’s first timed marathon. He had run the distance once during his training. We invited him to run along with us, which he was more than happy to do. After a relatively slow mile 6 and 7 (7:46 and 7:43 respectively) we had picked up the next 2 miles at sub-7:30 pace. As we passed through small pockets of spectators, I reached out to high-fived the kids. I was yapping away, talking about my first marathon experience and the awful pace-setter I followed in that race. Before we knew it, we passed mile marker 10 – 1:15:49. Again, right on target.
For some reason, I felt like I needed to take on the role of cheerleader for our little pod, so I just kept talking…and talking…and talking (in retrospect, it explains why I had a sore throat for the next few days).
The Smuttynose Marathon is a double-loop. Starting at about mile 3, you get to see the mile markers for the second half of the marathon, so as you’re passing the mile markers for 8, 9 and 10, you are also passing the ones for 21, 22, and 23. Psychologically it was a little tough to realize that we were going to have to do this all over again. In the meantime, I realized that Brendan had been falling back a bit – not too far, maybe only a few seconds per mile, but it was enough to make me a little nervous. I would occasionally turn around to check on him and make sure he was still with me. Every time, he would nod in the affirmative, and I would turn back around. We had made an agreement earlier in the week that if someone faltered, the other was NOT to risk his own race for the sake of the other, however, I also didn’t want to lose my partner in crime.
At the 11.5 mile mark, those that were running the half-marathon peeled off. As was the case when I ran Manchester almost a year ago, it was a discouraging moment. I had been running for quite some time with this loose pod of people and suddenly we went from a crowd to a string. I tried convincing a few of the runners that were a mile and a half from their finish to come join us. A young lady looked at me, smiled and said, “been there, done that.” I was tempted to say something back to her, but I bit my tongue. As we peeled away, directed by a volunteer to go in a different direction, I pointed at the finish and said, “but the finish line is over there!” He laughed but told me I had to go the other way anyway.
Mile 12 arrived at a 6:08 pace. Yeah, no, really. That’s what my watch said. Everybody around me looked at their watches confused. Obviously there had been an error in placement. When mile 13 arrived 7:40 later, I realized that somewhere later down the line, we were going to have to make up a minute and a half.
Just after 12 I saw the leader coming the other way. He was all alone. I couldn’t help but admire his being able to run at that pace all alone. I glanced back at Brendan. He was still on my tail. He nodded, so I kept the pace. Ralph had fallen off (I would late find out he ran a 3:35). At about the halfway point however, Brendan began to fade just a little more. Truth is, it was probably more my picking up the pace a little and Brendan holding steady. I noticed that my splits were closer to 7:30 than 7:40. I kept looking back, but the gap was growing.
I hit mile 15 at 1:52:22. 2 minutes in the bank, I thought, but then I realized that at some point the “make up” for the short mile 12 had to becoming. Still, an extra minute and a half put me at about 1:53:52. Definitely on target.
At Mile 16, we rejoined the part of the course we had already run. I looked over my shoulder looking for Brendan. He was now maybe 30 yards back. I decided I had to press on. I ran the next five miles (miles 16 – 21) 11 seconds faster than I had run them (miles 3 – 8 ) earlier. When I hit mile 20 at 2:30:09 (2:31:39 with the adjustment), I knew I had a shot. As my friend Rick Reilly has said to me on several occasions, it was all coming down to the final 10K. The marathon, he would tell me, is actually 2 different races: it’s the first 20 miles and the last 10K. The final 10K had been what killed me in Manchester, had knocked me down at Boston, and had taken the fight out of me at Providence.
When I hit mile 20, I began to do a lot of arithmetic in head.
6.2 miles, just under 50 minutes to go, 6 times 8 is 48, 8 times 60 is 480, 48 plus 48 is 96, 96 is 1:36, 48 plus 1:36 is 49:36, which puts me at 3:21:05 – Shit! Start over – if I run a 7:50 for the next 6.2 miles…
When I hit mile 21 in 7:32, I re-calibrated everything again. I was doing okay. But I still knew the adjustment for mile 12 was coming, and at mile 22 it came. There had been a small part of me that had hoped and prayed that by some miraculous twist in space-time that we had all, in fact, run 6 minute miles at mile 12, but as my watch passed 8:00, then 8:30, I realized the time to pay the debt had come. I kept looking for the mile marker. – tick tick tick – 8:40, 8:45, 8:50. I finally saw the mile marker and passed it at 9:07. My watch now read 2:46:49 and I had 4.2 miles to go.
I again began to do the math in my head.
4.2 miles, 34 minutes 10 seconds left before the cut off. 8 minute miles means 2 minutes and 10 seconds to run 0.2 miles, if I multiply 2 minutes 10 seconds by 5 I got 10 minutes 50 seconds, what? That can’t be right, oh, wait a minute, it is, 96 seconds is less than 130 seconds!!!
If I could just maintain 8 minute miles I was going to be okay. Buoyed by this thought, I ran mile 23 in 7:31. I looked over my shoulder for Brendan, but I had now lost sight of him.
Now I just needed to fight off the last 5K. Mile 24 came and went in 7:41. Part of me dared to think that I had this in the bag. I was cruising. I had this.
Or so I thought.
24.5 arrived with my legs turning to jello. One moment I’m running steady, the next my legs are wobbling underneath me. I remember literally saying to myself, “uh-oh!” Fortunately I had 24.5 miles of momentum behind me, but I found myself slowing. I looked at my watch. 3:06:00. I had four minutes to get to mile 25. 14:59 to get to the finish, 1.7 miles away.
On any given day, if I need to, I know I can run 1.7 miles in less than 10 minutes. No problem. I might be in a lot of pain at the end of those 10 minutes, but I know I can do it. At that moment, looking at 1.7 miles felt like I was looking at another 5. My legs wobbled again.
For a split second I thought, “I’m not gonna make it. This is where I am going to hit the wall. This is where my assault on a BQ ends.”
Then I heard my friend Sheila. Now mind you, I have never met Sheila, nor have I ever heard her voice. I know her through this blog, the wife’s blog and through Twitter. I imagine her voice to be strong and authoritative, but nurturing. An iron voice wrapped in a velvet scarf. But I heard her shouting at me:
“Run like your hair is on fire. Run Luau, RUN!”
I put my hand on my heart where I was wearing an Autism Speaks pin. Strength flowed from my burning hair down to my legs. “This is nothing compared to what my little Brooke goes through” I thought, “this pain is temporary”. I was running through molasses, but I was running. I ran by the 25 mile marker – 3:09:50.
OK! 11:09 to cover 1.2 miles. The molasses was getting thicker. The wind had picked up AND there were people just milling about along the course. I weaved around a few groups of walkers. A runner in blue was 70 or so yards ahead of me. I focused on him, mentally trying to reel him in. Slowly he got bigger and bigger. I was reeling him in, but I could feel myself fading.
“HAIR ON FIRE!!!” Sheila yelled.
At this point I was running on fumes. I didn’t think there was anything left in the tank nor did I think I had any gears left.
Mile 26. 3:17:47.
That last mile had taken nearly 8 minutes. Frak! No, no, no, no, no!!! I was slowing down!
It was do or die time. I yelled out loud at the top of my lungs, “Come ON!!! Run! Dammit!!! RUN!!!”
I think I scared a few of the walkers on the course, but it worked. I found and hit that last gear. My speed started to pick up. 45 seconds later I passed the 13 mile mark for the half marathoners. 0.1 to go. The guy in blue was firmly in my sites. I put it into overdrive, lengthened my stride and went into full sprint mode.
Someone yelled at the guy in blue, “he’s coming! he’s gonna catch you!!!”
Too late, buddy! I flew past him.
I heard my buddy Adam, who had paced a friend through the half, yelling, “Luau! Luau! Luau!” I pumped my fist!
I looked up and saw the clock, it read 3:20:something. I knew I had it. I KNEW I HAD IT!!!
Official Time - 3:19:19 - photo courtesy of Doug (@reallynotarunnr)
The euphoria of qualifying for Boston was (IS!) unbelievable. I didn’t know if this day was ever coming. Friends have told me that they knew, but the truth is, you never know what the next day is going to bring. I could wake up tomorrow and be unable to run for whatever reason, but now…now, I can call myself a Boston Qualifier.
After shooting through the finish, I found my buddy Pete. He told me that he too had qualified for Boston, running a 3:15:24. We hugged in celebration knowing that we would be able to toe the line together in Hopkinton this coming April. Our attention quickly turned back to the finish line. 3 of us had started that day in pursuit of a BQ, and Brendan was still out there. Although the clock had clicked over to 3:21, we knew that because Brendan and I had started as far back in the crowd as we had, he still had some wiggle room. Unfortunately, Brendan ended up missing a BQ by 32 seconds. The fact that he had PR’d by 5 minutes did not alleviate the frustration and disappointment.
After some pizza and ice cream, part of the Smuttynose dailymile/Twitter crew convened in the beer tent.
Mmmm, beer... - photo courtesy of Adamm9
Pete (from Runblogger.com) and I celebrate our BQ's.
After one or two, we went out to cheer our friends Alett and Sandra in. We walk a few hundred feet down from the finish line with the intent of running Alett in. As she approached, we tried to break into a jog. It wasn’t happening. Alett flew right by us. We had left it all out there on the course. With Alett and Sandra’s arrival it was back to the beer tent for one more.
The Smuttynose dailymile/Twitter crew, post-race
Finally it was time to go. I told Pete I would see him in Boston. As I walked back to my car with Doug and Brendan, I tried to come up with something encouraging. Brendan has been a huge inspiration, not just to me, but to countless others on dailymile. His BQ is coming, I am sure of it.
I am sure that I will run this race again someday. It is sure to become a popular race for those trying to achieve their own BQ. The nice thing is that with this race not only do I qualify for 2011, but I also qualify for 2012 as well. I know where I’ll be in April. For next fall there’s talk about trying out the Vermont 50. We’ll see if there’s still interest next Spring.
In the meantime, I can now turn my eyes toward New York. Having qualified for Boston, I can now approach New York as a celebration, as a fun run. I intend to find as many friends in the crowd as I can and take pictures with each and every one of them. So if you are going to be in New York for the marathon, let me know where you’ll be – I’ll come find you!
You can find Doug, his wife Lex and Lex’s Run —>HERE<—
and finally, you can follow Brendan’s inspiring training on dailymile —>HERE<— (honestly though, I wish he wrote a blog!)
*BQ stands for Boston Qualifier – a dream for many runners. In order run the Boston Marathon, a person is required (unless running for a charity or having the luck I had last year of stumbling across an invitational application) to run a previous marathon within a certain amount of time. For me, that time is 3:20:59. For my buddy Pete, that time is 3:15:59.
***
I need YOUR contributions to a project that I’m working on. Interested?
All you need to do is send me a paragraph or two telling me why you run and/ or why you think others should run. E-mail it to me at “runluaurun at gmail dot com” (written out so the bots don’t start sending me spam).
If you can, please include a picture of your favorite running shoes and tell me what kind of shoes they are. Also, please let me know how you would like to be referenced (real name, nickname, pseudonym, etc) just in case this project actually ever sees the light of day.
The more responses I get, the sooner I can put it all together, so please don’t be shy about forwarding this to your running friends and spreading the word.
I can’t specifically say. To be discovered? To be handed fame and fortune? To win the lottery? I have been waiting. As a youngster, I always felt I was destined for something big, but I never did anything about it. In 1992 I said to some friends I wanted to go to New York, become a soap opera regular and become a star. My friends were all for it. I did eventually go to New York, but not until 1996, and only for a job as a paralegal at a midtown law firm. I did finally make it on to a soap opera, but only as an extra and only because a dear friend of my sister-in-law happened to be the head writer and was kind enough to get me on (Thank you Lil’ Jess and Tom!).
Yup, that's me in the background...
Still, I waited. Waited for greatness, for fame, for fortune.
***
It’s not coming, is it? There is no Justin Bieber fairytale waiting for me, is there? (part of that may be because I don’t sing…details.) Random House is not going to stumble upon my blog and decide they MUST have a book written by Luau. Foxnews is not going to decide that they MUST talk to me about the minimalist movement and make me a media darling. Oprah is not about to come calling, asking me to talk about how we can get America healthy again…is she?
No.
The lottery, both figuratively and literally, is not about to call out my numbers. My blog may be just under a year old, but at nearly 41, I’m no longer that fresh face with potential.
And yet I have waited.
***
For the last 11+ weeks I have been following a training program aimed at helping me run a 3:20 or better at the Smuttynose Marathon on October 3rd. I have not followed the program to a tee, but I have worked very hard and made re-adjustments along the way to keep me on track, both in mileage and types of workouts. Injuries and travel have required me to make some changes, but my numbers are lining up correctly and I am feeling very confident. If I don’t manage to qualify for Boston, it’s going to be very, very close.
If I do run a 3:20 or better I will have to face an ugly, brutal truth: – to achie—
-<<record stratch>> – Wait…what? Luau, um, did you just said that if you ACHIEVE your goal, you’re going to have to face an ugly truth?
Yup. That’s what I said. The ugly truth is this: to achieve your goals, most of us must work for it. If I run a BQ (Boston Qualifier), it will have been achieved through sweat and pain, hard work and determination and even a little bit of blood. There has been no “waiting” this time around for a BQ.
As much as I like to pull the “back when I was your age” card on my children and younger friends, the truth is, my generation really was the beginning of the immediate gratification/MTV society (I can’t say generation anymore because we have had children that also carry this need for immediate gratification…Video on Demand? DVR’s? 24 Hour News?).
My father didn’t raise me this way, but somewhere along the way, I lost the thread. I left the path and I got lost. Things came too easily too early for me and I got comfortable. Well, these 11 weeks have brought me a new perspective. Barring a twisted ankle on the course, I will run close to, if not achieve a BQ. Regardless, I know I will run a personal best (Providence is my current PR at 3:30:11), and it will all be because of hard work. I feel like I’ve cut away the fat, more mentally than physically. I am ready.
So Random House, Foxnews and Oprah, watch out. After I hit this BQ, I’m coming.
I really do enjoy running outside. But I have a problem when I do.
I am, without question, a part of the MTV generation 1.0. I was part of that first wave of young kids gawking at the TV when the Buggles popped onto our screens and Martha Quinn & company began providing us with a 24 hour feed of music videos. I am firmly a part of the immediate gratification generation.
As a result, I lack patience.
There have been countless runs where I have said aloud that I was going for a long, SLOOOOOW run only to end up running a tempo run or faster. I’ll start slow, with every intention of keeping a relaxed pace, but all too often, I end up speeding up less than halfway through. At first it’s unintentional, but then I see the split on my stopwatch and it’s all downhill from there. I refuse to slow down.
I’m starting to think that the injuries that I sustained in April and September were direct results of being impatient.
Early on, a friend of mine pointed me to a couple of training sites that help you figure out what pace you should be training at based on past race performances. Before my personal triumph at the Chilly Half back in November, I had not run a race that extrapolated out to a 3:20 marathon or better (a BQ for someone my age). The best result I had put me at about a 3:32 marathon (the Chilly put me at 3:17). I didn’t want to hear that. The various sites would tell me that I had to run my long runs at a certain pace. They also said in bright, flashing, red letters that I needed to train at the level I was, and NOT at the level I wanted to be. I didn’t want to hear that either. I plugged in what the long run pace should be for a 3:15 marathon. I wanted room to spare. The resulting number still seemed slow to me. I could run 15 miles at a much faster pace (or at least, that’s what I told myself). I ignored the numbers. I would go out for long runs of 12 – 16 miles and run at close to marathon pace.
Inevitably, I got hurt.
I had to stop running for nearly 4 weeks (which quite honestly was probably not long enough). When I returned to running, I still didn’t heed the numbers and went out at paces that were where I wanted to be, not where I was. The result was a crash and burn at the Manchester Marathon. I held up great for 16 miles, hit a wall and then froze up at 20. I play back that marathon in my head from time to time. The first mile was a killer (the 3:30 pacer decided to go out at a 6:30/mile clip), and I probably didn’t hydrate properly, but the more I think about it, the more I believe that my training philosophy was all wrong. I was training where I wanted to be, NOT where I was.
That’s impatience. That’s the Veruca Salt training method.
So this year, starting today (an arbitrary day resolution), I resolve to be more patient with my runs. Run at the pace my racing legs say is where I’m supposed to be. I now have enough races under my belt that I should be able to comfortably rely on what the numbers say.
If I do it right, run patiently, I have no doubt that I have a qualifier in me for October. I’m still going to run Hyannis (I think), but it’s going to be for fun. At least, that’s what I’m going to tell myself.
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