Training Update

It occurred to me this weekend that I present a rather biased picture of running on my blog. Most of my posts about training and racing are obnoxiously cheery, and any negativity is usually tongue-in-cheek. I had this epiphany about my one-sided presentation on Saturday, right around the same time I was forcing back tears in the middle of a truly brutal long run. It's time to set the record straight. Running is something that I love, and I wouldn't continue to do it if I didn't feel that, most of the time, it adds richness to my life. But there are times when I can understand why people hate this sport.

Saturday was one of those times. Some background: According to the training schedule I drew up, I was supposed to do long runs of 13, 15, and 18 miles over a three-week period. The 13 miler went down easily, but I had a terrible cold the week after and put in only 6 of the 15 before I had to turn back, feeling drained, heavy, and miserable. Skipping workouts is not great, but it happens. Skipping a long run, however, is something to be avoided at nearly all costs. I did a 10-mile run during the week to make up, in part, for the missed distance, but there really is no substitute for a long run.

Not me.

On Saturday, I was slated to run 18 miles, but the jump from 13 to 18 is a big one. I decided to shoot for 18 but expect to do no more than 17 at most and 16 at worst. I began later in the day than usual and felt off from the get-go. I can usually tell how my runs will go within the first mile, and I knew that this would not be a good one. I'm not sure why this happens. Some theories about this particular day include running an unfamiliar trail (I was in New Hampshire, and new terrain always feels harder), lack of sleep (Ed and I arrived at our hotel late the night before), a night on an uncomfortable mattress, dehydration from the flight, the humidity... Or some combination of these. Or none of these. Regardless of the reason, I felt that I was working for every step. I pressed on, seeking the numbing rhythm that usually carries me along on bad days. After my recent mid-week 10-mile run, a toenail on my left foot has decided not to hang around, and it twinged now and then to prevent me from forgetting the indignity it has suffered. I was developing blisters along the inside of my big toe. I was hot and sweaty. My sports bra was chafing my rib cage. My headphones wouldn't stay in place. My energy gels, usually easy to digest, kept rising up in the back of my throat, filling my mouth with a taste both sickly sweet and acidic. It was clear that I was not going to get to 18. And, eventually, clear that 17 was also not a possibility. In the end, I put in 15.39 miles, and went immediately back to the hotel to shower and fall into bed, hoping dimly as I drifted off that my legs and stomach would stop aching.

There comes a point in every halfway dedicated endurance athlete's training regimen when things fall into place. You set out for a long run only to find that, at the end, you feel like you could have kept going for another hour. You think something must have gone wrong with your watch because you finished your tempo run much faster than expected with the same perceived effort. My performance on Saturday indicates in no uncertain terms that I'm not there yet. Only two courses of action lie ahead, and one of them, opting out of the marathon, is clearly not a possibility. This leaves me with no choice but to stick to the ambitious training plan I set out for myself a few weeks ago with renewed resolve. I'm happy to report that my 5-miler last night, though rough at first, became quite pleasant as I warmed up, and that I'm feeling optimistic about tonight's tempo run rather than dreading it, as is my knee-jerk reaction to upcoming tempo runs. I'm scheduled to run 20 miles this weekend, and while that probably won't happen, I'm going hydrate thoroughly the day before, sleep well that night, eat a banana before I set out, and get a close to 20 as I can manage.

Without runners' lows, I suppose the runner's high would not feel as good.