Running

So both of my treadmills are down – again. I’m just getting over a thigh injury, and I’m already starting up an old foot injury. If both I and my equipment could stay healthy for three months in a row, who knows what I could do?

I’m trying to use this setback to as much advantage as I can. I don’t usually run outside if I have a treadmill option. But the marathon is, of course, a road race. There are hills, there is wind, the road doesn’t move underneath you. So road training is much better for race prep. On the down side, I don’t run very hard when it’s dark and I’m tired. On the treadmill, I sometimes think “I should be running faster than this.” And I punch it up a few tenths.

I have trouble sprinting outside. I’m a little bit vain and I don’t like anyone seeing me resting in between sets. I did it one morning at 5am. Sure enough, every time I stopped, someone came along walking their dog or just out for an early morning stroll asking me if I was ok.

Only 2 weeks until the big event. I’m not doing too badly. If you start with enough time and you put in your miles, there’s a high degree of success. But as you approach the race, there’s a greater need for precision. So, anything that happens now makes a greater impact on the overall result. If I eat too much or over-train in February, it hardly matters. If I do that the night before the race, it will mess up my time noticeably.

“Success” is what you say that it is. Before training, you say “I’ll do what I did last year and I will get about the same time.” You start to make some gains, and it becomes “I’ll beat last year by a few minutes.” You have one great run and “I’ll shatter my personal record!” Then you get tired, injured or lazy. “I’ll just beat last year by a minute.” On race day you’re down to “Just let me finish.” Halfway through “If I walk from here, my time will be…” And then the desperate stretch after all hope is gone “I can probably crawl… Just let this misery end!”