The only thing keeping my going with this whole marathon training game right now is the spirit of others. In the last two weeks, my friend Matt completed the Leadville 100 miler, in the coldest, dankest conditions of its history (I will have to devote a blog post all its own to that epic experience of crewing for Matt), and my brother Danny finished the Green Lakes Endurance 100k near Syracuse New York, taking third place male overall – I have to throw the caveat “male” in there, since happily a female finished in the top three.
So my measly 50-something miles per week (per week!) don’t seem like they should be really that much of a stretch.
Last Saturday was a 2:40 run on the Appalachian trail in West Virginia, another reminder of the softness that comes with road training. On Sunday, I started out the run feeling glorious. The weather was beautiful and I was listening to my mp3 player for the first time in a long while. I headed out to the C&O Canal Trail, which is a flat dirt track that winds between the scummy canal on one side and the Shenandoah River on the other. I felt like I was booking it – I watched the Olympic marathon the night before, and in my mind I was Samuel Wanjiru-fast, pounding the ground and moving so fast it was maybe even hard to see me. At the second mile, I looked at my watch: 8 minutes, 50 seconds. (Wanjiru was running 4:50s.)
Um.
I am so fast in my brain. Perhaps my body will catch up eventually.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Baby Steps to Balance
Getting the balance right is an issue that keeps coming up a lot for me. In running, in life, in work. It’s an overused thing to say, I know - and perhaps I should keep my thoughts to a letter to the editor of Yoga magazine - but I can't help but recognize recently that this is a constant life-classroom challenge for me.
How do I best strike the right chord between thinking and doing, between being uber-engaged and healthily detached, between moving around and being still, between maintaining momentum and knowing when to wait?
In short, how do I fill my life with doing the things that make me happy and are, in some way, ultimately useful – to me or someone else?
The other night, while stretching my back and neck on the living room floor after coming in from a run, I came across some balance exercises. In typical fashion for me, I read them and thought dismissively, “How easy.” Also in subsequently typical fashion, I tried them and found out they weren’t. Standing with one foot directly behind the other is so easy, while doing it with your eyes shut is so hard!
This air-guitar saga (otherwise known as my slight neck injury, which is nearly healed) has taught me a lot – including how out of my league are people who deal with chronic pain and still manage to smile and relax into the world. It also suggested to me that perhaps I have been putting manic energy towards running to avoid some other gaps in my life. So I am planning to make some changes.
I am also more determined to find balance within my running itself. I have joined this running club, a group of finely tuned, Type-A Washington DC speedsters. The coach George preaches balance, but his runners seem to favor nonstop, grueling intensity – on the track, on tempo, etc. So it is up to me to actually follow my rules and find my own way.
Last night at the track workout, the coach divided us up into six groups for repeats – 1x1600, 2x1200, 2x800, 2x400. I usually hang desperately onto the back of Group 2, but last night, I decided to go with Group 3. For the first time, I felt like I was finally able to find a regular rhythm – I focused on trying to find a hard, relaxed pace during the first third, and then kicked it in when I could on the last 30%. I also quit early, since I wanted to be mindful of my back, calf, and the fact that too much speedwork does not a happy Wednesday make.
Here were the splits:
1600: 6:47
1200s: 5:03, 5:04
800: 3:14
Not the most blazing speed, but an effort I am quite proud of nonetheless. And a suggestion of balance – between intensity and rhythm, between too much and too little, and between competition with others and remaining true to myself.
Baby steps to get there.
How do I best strike the right chord between thinking and doing, between being uber-engaged and healthily detached, between moving around and being still, between maintaining momentum and knowing when to wait?
In short, how do I fill my life with doing the things that make me happy and are, in some way, ultimately useful – to me or someone else?
The other night, while stretching my back and neck on the living room floor after coming in from a run, I came across some balance exercises. In typical fashion for me, I read them and thought dismissively, “How easy.” Also in subsequently typical fashion, I tried them and found out they weren’t. Standing with one foot directly behind the other is so easy, while doing it with your eyes shut is so hard!
This air-guitar saga (otherwise known as my slight neck injury, which is nearly healed) has taught me a lot – including how out of my league are people who deal with chronic pain and still manage to smile and relax into the world. It also suggested to me that perhaps I have been putting manic energy towards running to avoid some other gaps in my life. So I am planning to make some changes.
I am also more determined to find balance within my running itself. I have joined this running club, a group of finely tuned, Type-A Washington DC speedsters. The coach George preaches balance, but his runners seem to favor nonstop, grueling intensity – on the track, on tempo, etc. So it is up to me to actually follow my rules and find my own way.
Last night at the track workout, the coach divided us up into six groups for repeats – 1x1600, 2x1200, 2x800, 2x400. I usually hang desperately onto the back of Group 2, but last night, I decided to go with Group 3. For the first time, I felt like I was finally able to find a regular rhythm – I focused on trying to find a hard, relaxed pace during the first third, and then kicked it in when I could on the last 30%. I also quit early, since I wanted to be mindful of my back, calf, and the fact that too much speedwork does not a happy Wednesday make.
Here were the splits:
1600: 6:47
1200s: 5:03, 5:04
800: 3:14
Not the most blazing speed, but an effort I am quite proud of nonetheless. And a suggestion of balance – between intensity and rhythm, between too much and too little, and between competition with others and remaining true to myself.
Baby steps to get there.
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