What the Long Run Giveth, the Long Run Taketh Away

Last Saturday presented my final long run before Chicago. I had a goal of between 22M and 24M, depending on how things were going (and whether drunken students messed with my hydration).

I awoke at 4:30am to begin my run at 6am, but was thwarted by my Garmin (pbtn), who had decided that a blank screen would be all I got regardless of the frequency or ferocity with which I pushed the on/off button. Fortunately for me, after consulting an awesome friend who had experienced a similar problem, I found my Garmin bible (read: owners manual) and was able to reset it and begin my run by 6:30am.

The weather was perfect and I proceeded to pound out some awesome miles. I felt so good in fact that I decided to rock the 23rd and 24th miles. I went home, ate a yogurt and then bought two McDonald’s sausage and egg muffins. Delicious. Healthy. Wonderful.

But, such good long runs are never for free, and I paid for it today on my 8 800s. For the official first day of fall I was greeted with 82 degree temps with some humidity to boot. *Thank Running Gods* They were a struggle, going 2:49, 2:49, 2:51, 2:53, 2:51, 2:56, 3:05, 2:59. Yep, I lost all hope and desire during that 7th repeat. Oh well, I responded pretty well on my last.

I am now in full taper mode. I only hope I can keep it together.

There Are Two Errors in the the Title of This Post*

Oh, I’m not just an attorney and a blogger, I’m also a poet and a philosopher. Running my speed workout yesterday I came upon one of the great philosophical questions all runners face: If you blackout while running repeats in the hot and angry sun, does it count against your rest interval?

And if I my wax philosophically (and I shall, it is my blog), having the FIRST speed workouts repeatedly humiliate me—week after week after week—I keep thinking about ‘why.’ Why does this hurt so much? Why do I keep doing this?

But the answer is simple. Because there is nothing better in the world. If it was just easy, if we didn’t find ourselves dripping in sweat, breathing hard, muscles aching, feeling used but strangely satisfied, we wouldn’t do it. And I was describing running sickos.

We all complain about the aches and pains, but we know this is the cost going in. And we all dream of PRs and Boston, but we know these things don’t come without effort and pain. Sometimes, after a particularly taxing workout the ‘Why’ seems like an albatross around our necks.

But after marking days off, tallying miles, and earning it; and as we prepare for the starting gun to fire, the ‘Why’ isn’t a question at all.

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* This is a reference to this awesome book; something I used when teaching undergrads philosophy while also making it fun.

The First Week of FIRST

Last week was my first week using the FIRST program, and my first run seemed simple enough; a 10-20 minute warm-up, three mile repeats with one minute rest intervals, and then a 10 minute cool-down. ONE MINUTE REST INTERVALS!!! I mean, why even rest? All one minute of rest does is remind you how tired you are and that the pain is only seconds away from starting all over again. stupid one minute rest…

Now, in the past two weeks I’ve only run once, an easy 8M with a friend. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was ‘unprepared’ physically, but to compare my ‘physical fitness’ with the Empire’s skeleton crew on Endor to guard the all important Imperial shield generator would be relatively accurate. Things started out so good and got ugly fast.

Goal pace for mile repeats, 6:30 to 6:40. First mile, 6:31. Nice. And then one minute is over and I drop out a 6:55. Ouch. By now, I’m just hoping the +90 heat index will kill me. I’m so exhausted I can’t even spit cleanly; I just end up hitting myself. Last mile, 6:48. That time is the most amazing of them all because in my head it felt like a 7:30.

I then somehow managed to eek out an 8:30 pace for the 10min cool-down before heading home to stretch and cry. Oh, but I didn’t cry. Not because I didn’t want to or my body didn’t try. I laid there in the fetal position twitching and heaving myself around. It was just that, I was so dehydrated, my body couldn’t produce tears.

Then I had a 2M “short” tempo run stuck between two sets of 2M at easy pace. I hit a 7:25 pace for my first two easy miles, and then tried to crank up to a 6:08 pace. Oh, and the temp was in the low 90s. My second day of training equals a second massive fail. My last two easy miles were at an 8:28 pace, both of them.

After posting two terrible fails, my only hope in salvaging my first week on FIRST rested on a 13M run at marathon pace plus 30 (7:30/M). Basically, my fourth run following three weeks (and third run in the last week) needed to be spectacular where every prior run had not. Yeah, I can do that.

And I did, hitting a 7:29 average. Sure, the early miles were a little faster while miles 10-12 a little slower. Amazing how one run can change everything.

Beat Down II, Race Report

or, how 77 degrees punched me in the face for almost 13.1 miles.

My Half was about an hour and a half away from Lansing, so I was up early to allow myself time to get there, pick up my packet, stretch and begin the race at 8:15. As I was driving to the race, I was watching with dread the temperature monitor in my car. Like a game of hot and cold, the closer I got to my race, the higher the temperature got. When I arrived, the temp was 70 degrees.

Now, I knew it was going to be warm, but this was higher than what they had predicted. I had tried everything I could to hydrate, but I knew I was in for a long race. I do not run well in warm temperatures. Oh, and the huge storms they were predicting, well not a cloud around to obscure the angry sun.

By mile three, I was tired and the temperature had hit 75 degrees. By mile five, I was praying for a car to swerve and hit me (an honorable DNF). I had assumed this course was flat because the webpage didn’t have an elevation map…I assumed correctly for the first seven miles. At mile 7, I found hills and I lost hope. By mile 10, I was cursing out loud at the hills because it detracted from my agony. Mile 12 was, simply put, the worst mile I have even run. Every step hurt, every thought screamed ‘give up,’ and the sun was delivering its devastating final blows. A kind guy, in his 70s, passed me during mile 12 and said “going great, keep it up!” In response to this act of kindness and encouragement, I wanted nothing more than to break his hip (I'm kidding, sorta). I uttered, “thanks, you too.” I have never been more envious in my life.

But, I never stopped running. I’ve run long enough to know that these types of runs are going to happen. It’s a part of the game we all know about but don’t like to discuss. When it happens, it is awful, deflating, and humbling. But it is only one day, one run, one race. Driving home I promised myself I would regroup and improve at Sunday’s 5K. Also, while driving home, it poured rain and the temperature dropped significantly.

On Sunday, as I was preparing to leave for the race, I seriously considered not racing. It seems Saturday’s beat down was still tugging at me—including very sore and spent legs. But, you get past an awful run by getting back out there and running again. There were over 7,000 participants and over 1,300 racers at the Race for the Cure, and some of Lansing’s finest runners were there.

The temp was in the mid sixties and a slight breeze kept things feeling somewhat cooler. Lining up with such a huge crowd is awesome, and I was excited but anxious about how I would respond. I ran a fast first mile at 5:49, but then the soreness and toll of the 13.1 the day before began to weigh heavy on me. Not to be defeated, I fought through, going 6:22 for mile 2 and then 6:21 for mile 3; and kicked hard the last tenth. Although they were pretty big drop-offs from the first mile, they were the best I could summon. I finished under 19:30, a pretty good response and AG award worthy.