Just One Marathon

Another Brick in the Wall

How do I get myself into these things? That’s what I started thinking part-way into my 32K training run this morning, and haven’t stopped thinking it since. It started out well, but at about 24K, I lost a lot of energy. I fuelled the remainder of the run with iPod tunes (thank you, Bruce Springsteen) and fear of humiliation.

By the time I finished (it took 3 hours and 30 minutes), I was wiped. And I haven’t recovered since, despite a nap, several dozen visits to the bathroom (damned energy gels), lots of sympathy from my family (who really deserve more from me on a Sunday afternoon), and a constant diet of foods that are probably not doing anything to aid my recovery, since they consist mostly of white flour and refined sugar.

Can I be honest? At this point – and I know it’ll change – I don’t know how I can possibly run an additional 10 kilometres in order to complete a marathon distance. I’m not even sure I want to. Is this what The Wall looks like? Because right now, I can’t see over it, under it, or around it. Simon Pegg is not standing on the other side beckoning to me.

I know I’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep and a day of rest. But I’m low-down right now. I’m not writing this to garner sympathy (although, if you’ve got any, bring it on!) but because my purpose in writing this blog is to chronicle all the highs and lows that an inexperienced, slow, barely-committed runner experiences in training the marathon. In fact, I think I’ll bookmark this entry for re-reading, in case I ever have delusions of running a second marathon.

Nightmare Scenario

Do all marathoners-to-be have pre-race nightmares? I had my first one this week, exactly two months before the Ottawa marathon.

As anxiety dreams go, it wasn’t very creative. I woke up late, frantically threw together all my running gear (I think I packed chocolate Easter eggs as my mid-run energy booster!), fought traffic all the way downtown and arrived to realize I had forgotten my race bib. I burst into tears … and then my alarm went off.

I told my husband about the dream the next day and he scoffed. “Do you think I would ever let you be late?” he asked. Unlikely. The Runner I Married is hard-wired for punctuality. So that’s one fear put to rest. Now I’ll just have to wait for the next nightmare to come along to pinpoint my other worries.

What about you? Ever have a scary pre-race (or pre-any special event) dream?

That Hurt

When I started training for a marathon, I didn’t think it would be much harder than running a half-marathon. After all, 21K is a long way to run and I did that with relative ease (at least that’s how I remember it now). So doubling that distance would be more challenging, sure, but basically the same thing, right?

Wrong!

On Sunday, I ran 26K – the first time I’ve run substantially longer the half distance. It was the toughest run I’ve ever done. At 20K, my brain just stopped talking to my body. I used my primary muscles, the back-up muscles and then just lurched through the last two or three kilometers, swinging my legs forward from the hip like Frankenstein.

What kept me moving? Ralph did. He’s one of my running buddies from the marathon clinic I’m attending. He ran with me for the entire distance, setting a pace that was, for me, challenging but not impossible. Once or twice, I encouraged him to go ahead if he wanted to run faster. That might have been nice. Then I could have just given up – laid down in a snow bank and waited for spring. But Ralph would not hear of it. He just led the way, occasionally slowing down while I caught up and sometimes increasing his speed a little to keep me from slowing to a pace somewhere between a hobble and a shuffle (not sure which is faster – I will have to check the Garmin).

In addition to thanking Ralph for his support, I should probably apologize for the laser beams of hate I occasionally directed at the back of his blue running jacket during the last 5K of our run. And also say how sorry I am for the evil thoughts I had about him when he told me that it was mostly downhill after 18K, when there were actually several more (albeit small) hills to come.

That wasn’t me thinking those thoughts, Ralph, that was my screaming muscles.

When we got to the end of the run, I realized that although I'd gone far, I’ll have to add another 20K in order to make a marathon distance – essentially, run another half marathon. I wanted to weep. But I’m feeling better now for a couple of reasons. First of all, my body bounced back remarkably quickly. Nothing was too sore. Secondly, I don’t have to log another really big distance for two more weeks. Next Sunday’s long run is 19K, followed by 29K (!) the following week. Right now, I’m not thinking that far ahead, just putting one foot in front of the other, the way I did last Sunday.

The Bend in the Road

Up until now, marathon training has been just like half-marathon training. It's cool because at parties, I can brag that I’m a marathoner-in-training without actually having logged any marathon-like distances – yet. But the free ride ends this week.

The marathon plan I am following calls for a steady increase in miles every Sunday. Last week, my running group ran 19K – not easy but something I’ve done a few times before. Next week, we move up to 23K and that’s when I’ll be heading into unknown territory.

Here is what the Sunday run schedule looks like for the next few weeks:

March 9 – 23K

March 16 – 26K

March 23 – 19K

March 30 – 29K

April 6 – 29K

April 13 – 32K (!)

April 20 – 23K

April 27 – 29K

May 4 – 32K (!!!)

Those 32K runs are our peak training distances – we never actually run the full marathon distance during training. If you’ve run a marathon before, this will not seem remarkable. However, if you’re a marathon virgin like me, the fact that the training schedule doesn’t actually include a 42.2K run is a bit surprising and unsettling. (But not unusual – many marathon training schedules work this way.)

So, this week is the beginning of the true marathon experience -- going further than I’ve ever gone before and not knowing if or how my body and mind will rise to the challenge.

I think I’m ready.

Uh Oh

I signed into my e-mail today and got this message:

“You have successfully registered for an event in the Ottawa Race Weekend being held May 24 and 25, 2008. Payment has been received for the Ottawa Race Weekend ING Ottawa Marathon.”

My thrifty and sensible husband signed up our entire family for their planned race weekend events to take advantage of the lower fees for early registration. (He and the boys plan to train for the 10K.)

Holy crap.

Pregnant Pause

I scared myself today. I was driving my son to a class downtown from our suburban home. Taking the long and scenic route, I did something those of us without a Garmin often do, which is to clock the running distance from my house.

It’s just under 21k from my house to the Byward Market. It struck me that when I finally run the marathon in May, I will have to run this distance and then turn around and run back again. And it’s not as though I’ll be stopping at one of the many pubs in the Market for a quick glass of something cold and fortifying. In fact, I’ll be running the whole thing as fast as I can. Am I freakin’ nuts?

Somehow this sense of panic took me back to the feeling I had during my first pregnancy, after the hospital showed us the horrible Birth Movie. If you’ve had a baby, you’ve seen this movie, or one just like it. It’s the one where they show the entire birth process from beginning to end, with close-ups. I can only surmise that it’s designed to scare the crap out of you so that you will do whatever the nurses and doctors tell you during labour.

Anyways, after the movie, I remember thinking, “Wow, I really have to do this.” I didn’t just know this in my head but also felt it in my body. Not the beautiful, soft-focus, heartwarming experience I’d been picturing in my mind accompanied by a soaring soundtrack. No, the hard effort, the likely pain, the potential hazards, and the fact that no one could do this for me.

That’s the kind of realization I had today about running a marathon. I’ve really have to do this. No one can do it for me. And it will be hard

Worth it, without a doubt. But hard.