Just One Marathon

In My Head, I Am Blogging

… and also running.

In real life, I haven’t written a post since recounting my tale of woe from the Wineglass Marathon in October. Since then, I’ve stopped sighing. Mostly. Unfortunately, I’ve also stopped running for the last three weeks.

I was feeling quite guilty about it, but then I gave this latest bout of laziness a name: a hiatus. That makes it sound well planned and strategic. And the guilt? Gone. I’m not slacking. I’m on a running hiatus. See how good that sounds?

Of course, there’s no hiatus from the real world. Houses must be clean, laundry folded, Christmas gifts purchased, meals prepared, university papers written and all the other demands of daily life attended to. Also, at work, they frown on the spontaneous hiatus. So one must also go into the office. Still, not running frees up a lot of time. In my case, it frees up at least 4 hours and 17 minutes over the course of 42 kilometres. Sigh.

Anyways, I can feel the pressure to run building. Any day now, I will sign up for a race (I’ve got lots of ideas). Then, I will start worrying about how on earth I’m going to complete the race. Then I will run. It’s that simple.

But for now: hiatus. I love that word.

Yay, me

I haven’t skipped a run since I started training for the Wineglass marathon. That’s quite an accomplishment for someone who skipped close to a third of her scheduled runs leading up her last half-marathon just seven weeks ago.

 

Why? Well, the fact that I’ve got a new, inspiring goal is probably part of it. Having an awesome coach certainly helps, too.

 

But the bottom line is this: the marathon distance terrifies me. I have only run 42.2 kilometres once in my life, and I’ve run more than 30K maybe a handful more times. If I start missing training runs through the week, I worry that my long Sunday runs will become little more than an endless forced march through the land of muscle pain and gastro-intestinal discomfort. That’s not fun. And running should – at least intermittently – be fun.

Regarding Speed Bumps (the good kind)

Do you get the bump? You know, that little burst of energy that seems to kick in after running about 5K? I love the bump. Some runs, I live for the bump. Some runs, it’s the only good thing about the whole run, except for the part where you get to stop. The stopping part is also good.

 

The thing is, on a good day, I don’t just get a bump at 5K. When all is going well, there are all kinds of little milestones that give me a small adrenaline kick.

 

Things that Give Me “The Bump” on a Run:

- Other runners, especially when they smile, wave, nod or offer high fives.

- Cute, friendly dogs on leash, carrying big sticks in their mouths like treasures.

- Dads out with their babies and toddlers on Sunday morning, letting their wives sleep in.

- Old couples out for a walk, holding hands.

- Deer standing in a field, cautiously observing me from a distance.

- Turning the corner and feeling the wind at my back.

- Having a great new song with uncannily appropriate lyrics pop up on my iPod at just the right moment, a gift from the Pod Gods.

- A long, slow, gentle downward slope at the end of a run.

- Turning the corner onto my street and meeting a neighbour, providing the perfect excuse to en the run early.

 

That’s when things are going well. On a bad day, it’s just one long, bump-less slog, similar to crawling across a desert towards an imaginary water hole. 

 

How about you? What gives you the bump (running or otherwise)?

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.

Motivation By The Drop

Over at The Runner’s Lounge, they’re asking bloggers to post on what keeps them motivated, especially during those long, dark, difficult runs. The aim is to share our collective wisdom with new runners. I wish I had some to share.

Most days, I reach my hand into the same sack of motivators that other runners do and pull something out. I might be motivated by a goal race. Or beckoned out the door by great weather. Sometimes friendly competition with another runner will get me going.

But from time to time, I reach in the motivation sack and come up empty-handed. So the big question on those days is: “What now?” How do you get motivated when there’s seemingly no motivation to be had?

On those days, I often feel like I’m taking in motivation by the teaspoonful (hold onto your hat, we’re switching metaphors!). I might decide to spend 20 minutes running, instead of none at all. Or run at a very easy pace. Or start out and see how far I get. That little teaspoon doesn’t always pack a lot of fuel for my run, but I swallow it down and let it take me as far as I can go. Because that’s what I’ve got on that day. And a little effort is better than none at all.

Why Running is Like a Box of Chocolates

I wonder if every runner vacillates between two extreme feelings about running. I know I do. Last Sunday I ran 17K and hated every minute of it. Seriously. In fact, that was my mantra for the entire 90-minutes: “I hate running. I hate running. I hate running.”

This Sunday, I ran 14K and felt fantastic. Never mind that I cut my toe and bled through my slush-drenched shoes. The weather was mild, the roads were bare, the route was beautiful and my new hat held my ear-bud in place so that it never popped out once. It was a transcendent experience (not the bloody toes, but the run itself).

Okay, I know what you’re expecting me to say – that my attitude made the difference. Nahhh. It’s just that this morning, everything went great, while last week, everything went to hell. I guess that’s one reason I don’t quit running – because ya never know what you’re gonna get.

Life's Been Good To Me So Far

Do you play little mental games with yourself while you are running, just to pass the time? I do. For instance, I was having trouble with the right ear bud on my MP3 player during a recent run. It kept popping out of my ear and bouncing around off my face, while I tried to trap it and put it back in again. It was damned annoying.

So I got to thinking, how would I handle this if I was a rock star? It’s a no-brainer: rip the iPod off my body and crush it under my feet. Call my limo driver to pick me up and take me home where I’d work out in my well-appointed private gym, enjoying music on my state-of-the-art sound system.

The ear bud was still bouncing around but all of a sudden I was picturing my life as a rock star with a running habit. That was fun and distracting and on a long, cold run, those are two good things. So, throughout the rest of my run, I fantasized about the rock-star response to every little hassle.

Top of my water-bottle frozen due to sub-zero weather? Have above-mentioned limousine driver drive slightly ahead of me with perfectly-chilled water, Gatorade, or other important nourishment.

Cars driving too closely as I run along the side of the road? Smash their rear windshields with my electric guitar while swearing loudly for the paparazzi. (Don’t rock stars go everywhere with their guitars strapped across their back?)

Motivation flagging? Arrange for crowds of gorgeous and adoring groupies to cheer from the sidelines. (I hear what you’re thinking: “But Reluctant Runner, female rock stars don’t have groupies!” Hey, we’re in an alternate universe where a 44-year-old mom of two with no musical talent is a rock star. Work with me here, people.)

Sore muscles after the run? Personal masseur, of course. We rock stars keep them on staff.

BTW, if you are a down-to-earth, responsible rock star, with not a diva-like bone in your body, I apologize for the sweeping generalizations. It’s cruel how you are the subject of such harmful stereotypes. To atone, I will spend my next long run humming “We Are The World” under my breath.

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.

Borrowed Inspiration

The big running funk continues. Head cold. Work stress. Over-programmed children. Pick an excuse – I got ‘em all. So, in true Reluctant Runner fashion, I’m giving up. Taking the week off. Instead, I’ll read about other runners.

Fortunately, two of my favorite running bloggers just finished big events and posted very inspiring reports. I feel about race reports the way I used to feel about watching the TV show “Birth Stories”. It’s like experiencing the whole glorious event minus the pain. See for yourself:

§         Vanilla is, to my mind, the funniest running blogger out there. Here’s how he describes his state of mind at the halfway point of the Denver Half-Marathon: “By mile 7, I wasn’t paying attention to my MP3 player, I wasn’t thinking about how cold or tired I was. I was simply weighing the pros and cons of peeing my pants.” Want to know what he decided? Check out the race report at his blog, Half-Fast.

§         How can you not love a blogger who feels almost as passionate about dirty martinis as running? P.O.M. (stands for “Pieces of Me”), is the Bridget Jones of running bloggers (if Bridget was from California and, y’know, a real person): funny, honest and human. Last Sunday, she ran her first marathon and posted her uplifting report.

Scheduled end to my running holiday: Sunday. I’ll report back then, bright-eyed, full of renewed enthusiasm, etc., etc.

Chronicle of a Run Foretold

How much negative energy can one runner pack into the planning and execution of one long run? In the case of this reluctant runner, plenty. To illustrate, here’s how I got from point A to B this past weekend.

Saturday, 7 a.m: Twenty-four hours until my long run. Although I plan on sleeping in, I wake up with too much on my mind, too many stupid “to do” lists to mentally prepare. Among the mostly-pointless thoughts racing around my head is the panicky realization that I will not be able to sleep in tomorrow so I’d better damned well get back to sleep immediately or this golden opportunity will be lost, lost forever. But that is not a good train of thought for sending myself back off into slumber. I get up and start my day.

Saturday, 8 p.m.: Off to Ottawa’s Scotiabank Place to watch my beloved Ottawa Senators beat the Montreal Canadiens in a pre-season hockey game. I forgo any alcohol because I already have a headache and don’t want to run 14k with a hangover. So I drink a giant, caffeinated diet coke instead. Always thinking, I am.

Sunday, 1 a.m.: Note to self: more booze, less caffeine.

Sunday, 5:45 a.m.: My son has a 7 a.m. hockey practice and my really, really, really nice husband has offered to get up and take him. So I lie in bed and listen to them both get ready and go. Then I can’t get back to sleep. The headache has returned and my lower back has joined the party. I should get up right now, go to the bathroom, take some painkillers and stretch; then maybe I can catch another hour or so of sleep and still get a nice early start on my run. Instead, I toss and turn for 90 minutes before I get up and take care of things. Then I go back to bed and try to get back to sleep.

Sunday, 7:15 a.m.: Okay, I’m really wide awake now. At this point, a smart person would have gotten up and gotten the run over with. Heck, last week I was that smart person. This week, apparently, I’m not. I lie around for another 40 minutes before self-disgust propels me out of bed.

Sunday, 8 a.m.: Will this be one of those mornings where I jump right into my running gear and go, or will it be one of those mornings where I have breakfast, read the paper, and generally procrastinate until the last minute?

Sunday, 9:30 a.m.: Turns out, it was the second kind of morning. However, I’ve eaten, dressed, clipped on my iPod and I am starting my run. Already, I feel like I have already completed the hardest part – getting out the door.

Sunday, 11 a.m.: That wasn’t so bad! I feel energized and virtuous bouncing back into the house, comparing notes with my husband on his run, grossing out the kids with the salty grit that the sweat has left on my temples, enjoying a hot shower.

Sunday, 8 p.m.: Oh God, I really should get a short run in tomorrow. It’s going to be a busy week and I won’t have many opportunities. And it’s only seven days until my next long run.