In every marathon training cycle, I reach a point when I question whether I can really pull it off. Usually I hit that wall when fatigue, the weather or a series of unfortunate events conspire to keep me from a scheduled long run.
This happened a couple weeks ago. My mileage already left a bit to be desired, I felt like crap, and I was actually emailing a friend of the friend of the folks organizing the marathon to see if I could, tail between legs, downgrade my registration to the half marathon.
Fortunately, my friend would have none of it, first dismissing my request with a terse "BAH," then telling me to "suck it up" and, finally, critically, offering to do a 30K with me this weekend. She's training for an Ironman in mid-November, so it's not entirely a selfless endeavor on her part, but it was the helping hand I needed to get my training back on track.
No runner training for any race, whether it's a marathon or a 5K, makes it through training without a hiccup. The mind can trick the body into doing stupid things or, in my case, not doing smart things. That's why it pays to have friends, family or colleagues, in real life or online, who are willing to listen and offer words of encouragement, plus the occasional kick in the pants. You may run by yourself, but you're never alone, and you should never forget that.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Friday, August 24, 2012
Not yet feeling the need for speed
Speed workouts and I are not on friendly terms. I view them much as I view hanging out with an annoying colleague after work hours -- it's a necessity that can pay dividends despite the frustration.
For me, tempo workouts are a bit more bearable. I lucked out last weekend when I ran the Tavern to Tavern 5K, which in addition to being a good tempo distance happened to be a point-to-point race, so I was all too happy to jog back down Mass. Ave. to get to my car. Most of the time, though, my decade-old wristwatch and I head out onto the road and I do my best to hit my mile pace target. (I'm not on friendly terms with my phone's GPS [in]capabilities at the moment, either, or else I'd have less to complain about.)
Track workouts, on the other hand, are right out. I haven't stepped on a track since high school. Frankly, I'd like to keep it that way. I have bad outdoor track memories, the least of which was my inability to score a single varsity point in four years. (I managed to get a few points in indoor track, largely because I was one of but a handful of people willing to endure the 23-and-a-half lap two-mile in the godforsaken Lowell High gym.)
As an alternative, I stick to fartlek workouts. In their simplest form, these consist of a one- to two-mile warmup, a set of sprints with a slow jog in between, and a one- to two-mile cool down. The total distance will depend on how many sprints you plan to do and how much rest time you give yourself in between sprints.
The key is to not rest too much. You should feel increasingly drained as each sprint begins. The whole point of the workout, after all, is to prepare your legs for the point in a race when, in a short race, you need to kick it into a higher gear even though you're tired, or, in a longer race, you need to maintain your pace even though you'd much rather pass out on the side of the road.
At the same time, don't kill yourself. You can walk for a few seconds after you finish a sprint, but, if you need to walk for much longer, dial it back. Don't run until you puke, either, as that may mean adding one additional fartlek to your workout to escape the wrath of an irate neighbor.
Ultimately, speed workouts are a necessary evil, but tailoring them to your needs and strengths will make them work.
For me, tempo workouts are a bit more bearable. I lucked out last weekend when I ran the Tavern to Tavern 5K, which in addition to being a good tempo distance happened to be a point-to-point race, so I was all too happy to jog back down Mass. Ave. to get to my car. Most of the time, though, my decade-old wristwatch and I head out onto the road and I do my best to hit my mile pace target. (I'm not on friendly terms with my phone's GPS [in]capabilities at the moment, either, or else I'd have less to complain about.)
Track workouts, on the other hand, are right out. I haven't stepped on a track since high school. Frankly, I'd like to keep it that way. I have bad outdoor track memories, the least of which was my inability to score a single varsity point in four years. (I managed to get a few points in indoor track, largely because I was one of but a handful of people willing to endure the 23-and-a-half lap two-mile in the godforsaken Lowell High gym.)
As an alternative, I stick to fartlek workouts. In their simplest form, these consist of a one- to two-mile warmup, a set of sprints with a slow jog in between, and a one- to two-mile cool down. The total distance will depend on how many sprints you plan to do and how much rest time you give yourself in between sprints.
The key is to not rest too much. You should feel increasingly drained as each sprint begins. The whole point of the workout, after all, is to prepare your legs for the point in a race when, in a short race, you need to kick it into a higher gear even though you're tired, or, in a longer race, you need to maintain your pace even though you'd much rather pass out on the side of the road.
At the same time, don't kill yourself. You can walk for a few seconds after you finish a sprint, but, if you need to walk for much longer, dial it back. Don't run until you puke, either, as that may mean adding one additional fartlek to your workout to escape the wrath of an irate neighbor.
Ultimately, speed workouts are a necessary evil, but tailoring them to your needs and strengths will make them work.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
The night time is the right time
Every few months, one running publication or another conducts a poll asking runners when they like to hit the pavement. The majority prefer running in the morning, usually before work or the kid's day at school.
I, on the other hand, would rather run at night. I need a shower, breakfast and coffee to wake up, and all but the latter (and only in small quantities) don't really make sense before a workout. I finally decided last week, once and for all, that I'm not going to bother trying to psych myself up at night for a run the next morning, since it won't happen. (I can get up early for work, but, well, I'm getting paid.)
Running at night means doing a few things differently. For starters, you're not running on an empty stomach; watch what you eat for lunch, making sure it's not too spicy, heavy or fatty (lest you fall asleep at your desk). You also need to hydrate throughout the day, especially if it's still going to be hot and humid when you hit the road.
You should invest in some safety gear, too. I have a reflective vest, which admittedly makes me look like the construction worker from the Village People, and a head lamp. Neither are terribly expensive (and if you get the head lamp from a hardware store instead of a running store, it's a lot cheaper). Though I don't have any, the little blinking lights that smart bicyclists have are a good idea if you're in an area with few streetlights or terrible drivers. If you don't have any, wear a white shirt, run against traffic and stay on the sidewalk.
Finally, don't run too late. Your body needs a couple hours to recover after any workout. If nothing else, you need a little bit of time to eat, rehydrate and stretch before you go to bed.
There's nothing wrong with running at night when the majority of runners, not to mention the most devout, are out at the crack of dawn. Just make sure you don't put yourself in harm's way, intentionally or otherwise.
I, on the other hand, would rather run at night. I need a shower, breakfast and coffee to wake up, and all but the latter (and only in small quantities) don't really make sense before a workout. I finally decided last week, once and for all, that I'm not going to bother trying to psych myself up at night for a run the next morning, since it won't happen. (I can get up early for work, but, well, I'm getting paid.)
Running at night means doing a few things differently. For starters, you're not running on an empty stomach; watch what you eat for lunch, making sure it's not too spicy, heavy or fatty (lest you fall asleep at your desk). You also need to hydrate throughout the day, especially if it's still going to be hot and humid when you hit the road.
You should invest in some safety gear, too. I have a reflective vest, which admittedly makes me look like the construction worker from the Village People, and a head lamp. Neither are terribly expensive (and if you get the head lamp from a hardware store instead of a running store, it's a lot cheaper). Though I don't have any, the little blinking lights that smart bicyclists have are a good idea if you're in an area with few streetlights or terrible drivers. If you don't have any, wear a white shirt, run against traffic and stay on the sidewalk.
Finally, don't run too late. Your body needs a couple hours to recover after any workout. If nothing else, you need a little bit of time to eat, rehydrate and stretch before you go to bed.
There's nothing wrong with running at night when the majority of runners, not to mention the most devout, are out at the crack of dawn. Just make sure you don't put yourself in harm's way, intentionally or otherwise.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Dialing it back
During the June heat wave, I complained about running when it's hot out. During the summer, I sweat just by sitting on the couch (as I am right now), so physical activity makes me miserable.
Of course, other people enjoy the heat and relish the opportunity to run in the sun. Now, I'm not going to discourage anyone from going for a run, but, as TheBoringRunner put it on Twitter a couple days ago, "There is a fine line between being awesome/bad ass and just plain stupid. The dude running in 110 degree heat at lunch is treading that line."
It's not going to get that hot in the Boston area this summer, but it's still worth taking a few precautions. (These come from personal experience as well as articles I've read one time or another in Runner's World or Active.com.)
Drink up. Have some water before you leave. It's a fine line between getting hydrated and having to pee, and everyone's different, so I can't recommend a set amount to drink. Drink during your run. If you don't want to wear one of those fuel belts, you can always crush a plastic water bottle so it's easier to carry.
Avoid the sun. Go out early or late. If it's a short run, and you don't detest the treadmill, you can hit the gym if you only have time in the middle of the day.
Dial it back. Don't kill yourself. The warmer and more humid it gets, the sooner you start to sweat, dehydrate and, let's face it, feel like crap. Slow down, especially if you didn't heed the previous point and went running when the sun's at its highest.
Fuel up when you're done. This, of course, is important after any run, but when you've sweat off several pounds (as you very well may after a summer long run), you need to put back lean protein, carbs and healthy fat.
Do the laundry. Don't make your roommates, significant other or pet(s) summer. Wash your clothes right away. If you can't, leave them outside to air out.
Ultimately, summer running precautions pretty much boil down to common sense. If you're like me, though, you lack common sense, so it pays to be reminded of these things. Take it easy out there.
Of course, other people enjoy the heat and relish the opportunity to run in the sun. Now, I'm not going to discourage anyone from going for a run, but, as TheBoringRunner put it on Twitter a couple days ago, "There is a fine line between being awesome/bad ass and just plain stupid. The dude running in 110 degree heat at lunch is treading that line."
It's not going to get that hot in the Boston area this summer, but it's still worth taking a few precautions. (These come from personal experience as well as articles I've read one time or another in Runner's World or Active.com.)
Drink up. Have some water before you leave. It's a fine line between getting hydrated and having to pee, and everyone's different, so I can't recommend a set amount to drink. Drink during your run. If you don't want to wear one of those fuel belts, you can always crush a plastic water bottle so it's easier to carry.
Avoid the sun. Go out early or late. If it's a short run, and you don't detest the treadmill, you can hit the gym if you only have time in the middle of the day.
Dial it back. Don't kill yourself. The warmer and more humid it gets, the sooner you start to sweat, dehydrate and, let's face it, feel like crap. Slow down, especially if you didn't heed the previous point and went running when the sun's at its highest.
Fuel up when you're done. This, of course, is important after any run, but when you've sweat off several pounds (as you very well may after a summer long run), you need to put back lean protein, carbs and healthy fat.
Do the laundry. Don't make your roommates, significant other or pet(s) summer. Wash your clothes right away. If you can't, leave them outside to air out.
Ultimately, summer running precautions pretty much boil down to common sense. If you're like me, though, you lack common sense, so it pays to be reminded of these things. Take it easy out there.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Running without a partner
My wife says she only runs when she's really, really mad. I'm happy to report that she has never been running in the time that we have been together. I'm also happy to be running alone.
In high school, I always thought I'd prefer to date a runner. (It had nothing to do with the girls on the track team being the only girls who talked to me, I swear.) She'd understand my need to run, my ridiculous appetite and my funky-smelling clothes in a way that other girls wouldn't, I reckoned.
Turns out I was wrong. I'm perfectly happy that my wife does in fact understand my aforementioned needs without feeling compelled to lace 'em up herself. We do occasionally exercise together -- she's taught me some very helpful dance stretches -- but when it's time for me to run, she leaves me be. I let her stay home when I race, too, since, well, it's pretty damn boring to stand there, often in the less-than-pleasant weather in which I prefer to run, and try to find your husband amid a sea of thousands of other skinny white guys in little shorts.
The way I see it, running is my alone time, just as dance is my wife's alone time. I rarely talk about running with my wife, saving it for my running friends and this little blogging experiment, and she rarely talks about dance with me, unless we're chatting about someone dancing remarkably well (or poorly).
Given how much else my wife and I have in common, it's nice for us to have our own hobbies. Sure, I sometimes wish I had a partner for my early-morning runs -- but if I did, then there'd be no one to surprise me with breakfast.
In high school, I always thought I'd prefer to date a runner. (It had nothing to do with the girls on the track team being the only girls who talked to me, I swear.) She'd understand my need to run, my ridiculous appetite and my funky-smelling clothes in a way that other girls wouldn't, I reckoned.
Turns out I was wrong. I'm perfectly happy that my wife does in fact understand my aforementioned needs without feeling compelled to lace 'em up herself. We do occasionally exercise together -- she's taught me some very helpful dance stretches -- but when it's time for me to run, she leaves me be. I let her stay home when I race, too, since, well, it's pretty damn boring to stand there, often in the less-than-pleasant weather in which I prefer to run, and try to find your husband amid a sea of thousands of other skinny white guys in little shorts.
The way I see it, running is my alone time, just as dance is my wife's alone time. I rarely talk about running with my wife, saving it for my running friends and this little blogging experiment, and she rarely talks about dance with me, unless we're chatting about someone dancing remarkably well (or poorly).
Given how much else my wife and I have in common, it's nice for us to have our own hobbies. Sure, I sometimes wish I had a partner for my early-morning runs -- but if I did, then there'd be no one to surprise me with breakfast.
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