The Competitive Drive

I often think back to last year's Lake Monona 20k.  Despite the many half marathons I've ran, I've yet to run one at the same pace as that race.  That was only the third race I had ever ran and yet it has become my goal to run at the same pace but just slightly longer.

I feel like a stronger and better runner these days, but I'm not hitting the pace that I did for the 20k.  Partly I think it's because of the haphazard nature my training has devolved into.  Last spring, I was training seriously for the Madison half marathon.  I wasn't following a schedule, but I ran regularly and did a long run of 12 miles 2 weeks prior to the 20k.  I trained and I tapered.  These days, I run when I feel like it and sort of randomly run a half marathon when I feel like it.

During the Quad Cities Half marathon though, I wondered at mile 10.5 when I let the 2:00 pacer pass me by, if maybe the reason I'm no longer running at the same paces as when I first started running because I no longer have the same competitive drive.

When I first started running, I had no idea what kind of pace I was capable of.  I fully expected to run my half marathon at a 12 min/mi pace.  I kind of thought I'd run a half marathon, and then a marathon at some point and then be done.  Check off the item on the bucket list and move on to other things.  But running into a race creates a lot of adrenaline.  I used to think to myself, "You're in race. You can't slow down!"

But these days, I no longer think that.  Probably because races aren't as novel and perhaps because the foot injury last August put a somewhat different perspective in my head.  When I let the 2:00 pacer go, I had no regrets.  I thought to myself, "it's okay.  I'll catch up or I won't."

I no longer have that sort of competitive drive. I worry about pushing too hard and getting injured.  I don't just want to run one race.  I want to run many more. 

Ironman volunteering

This past Sunday I volunteered on the bike course for Ironman Wisconsin. I spent about 6 hours pointing right and yelling "left!" so that bikers didn't miss their turnoff. It was right at an intersection so along with Officer Ann and Barry, we directed traffic as best as we can. I don't think I ever quite appreciated how obnoxious drivers can be until I'm watching them honk (at an officer!) for having to wait for bikers, making a turn right into the path of the bikers, and sometimes swerving damn close to them. I wasn't biking yet I was ready to curse out some of these drivers. The bikers were trying to complete an Ironman! Some drivers were nice and polite, and some were just assholes.

Last year, I was right by the finish line and watched as people came through, smiling and waving. It inspired me to do one. This year, working the middle of the bike course made it feel possible. The athletes do two loops of the bike course so they travel the same terrain and pass us twice. Some waved and nodded and said "thank you for volunteering," but the majority of them were focused on the race. It wasn't like the finish line where the racers were happy and relieved to be finished, but it was like how I felt on the marathon at mile 18, when you hit that point of not thinking too far past the next obstacle. You say to yourself, just get up that next hill, or just 5 more minutes. It is a mental battle.

So, I'm looking forward to the LA marathon and been scouting out training plans. I know now that I'll need to build in a few weeks of rest. I also would like to get up to 24 miles, and ideally a couple of times. Getting to 20 miles was sufficient to get to the finish line, but it didn't leave me feeling confident at the start. If part of the point of the 20 mile long run is to boost confidence, then I really need it to be closer to 24 to feel good. I'm aiming to start training in the first two weeks of November, which will give me 18-20 weeks. Ideally, I'd like to keep up with a weekly maintaining fitness schedule of a long ~10+ mile run on the weekends, and shorter 6 mile (tempo and interval) runs during the week until November when I'll start racking up the miles.

Races are like a drug.

Folks, have you noticed that there is usually a little widget in the sidebar that lists my upcoming races?  Have you noticed that since last week that widget is GONE?  Yes, indeed.  I currently have no races on my calendar.  Part of this was by design as I had only figured out in the last month and a half where I'll be for 2013-2014.   

My friend P commented that racing was like a drug for me and Barry.  I totally agreed.  I wondered hypothetically how much a cocaine habit would cost me annually and whether that amount was more or less than my current racing habit.  It's only been a week since my last race and I'm ITCHING to sign up and start training and thinking about the next one.

I've decided to not run a marathon this fall.  There aren't really any marathons past mid-November in the Midwest within driving distance, and a November marathon would be too soon to do a good job of training.  I rushed and half-a$$ed the training for my first marathon, and I didn't feel like trying to do that again.  Instead, I have my sights on the LA marathon on March 9.  It'll be an expensive marathon, as all California marathons tend to be, but it's the marathon that first inspired me to dream of running one.

Changing of the Seasons

The winter of 2011-2012 was unusually warm for Wisconsin.  Other than a day or two of iced over roads, the weather rarely if ever kept me from running outside.  As it warmed up in the spring, I was more and more encouraged to get out there and do my long training runs.

As we now draw closer to the winter again and the weather gets colder and the days shorter, I find myself more and more reluctant to run outside.  I'm remembering the same kinds of weather back in March and the excitement I felt at running outside in high 40s.  Now it feels too cold and I resort instead to the treadmill at the gym to get my distances in.

I should get my butt outside.

Training Log or lack thereof.

When I first started training in February for the half marathon, I was very diligent about writing down my runs. I logged the date, the distance, an estimate on the time, where the route was, whether on an indoor track or treadmill, etc. It was a good way to track my achievement. I was increasing my distance and it was exciting to be able to see the amount of miles I was running as well as entering those long runs of 8 or 10 miles. I was proud and a bit surprised of what I was capable of achieving.

At some point around Crazy Legs, I became a lot less diligent in logging my runs. I stopped logging where the route was, the time estimate, even the date became an estimate. There are entries after the 20k race, but really those entries were entered weeks later and I only half remembered what had happened on those runs.

Now, I don't bother logging them at all. I see this as a good thing. We don't record routines. We don't bother writing down the amount of water we consumed, how much and where, or about brushing our teeth in the morning. I actually had made the decision to start training in January, but first began recording runs when I made my first 10k run around the Arboretum. That was an achievement for me at the time. Now that 10k run is routine.

Runner's High

I used to think the runner's high referred to what one felt after a run.  A good workout in the morning can make the rest of the day can feel amazing.  I felt like I go through the rest of the day lighter on my feet, feeling more accomplished.  It elevates the mood for the day.

It wasn't until I started running more than 5 miles that I began to understand that runner's high.  The first few miles of a run always suck for me.  I start out thinking, "what am I doing out here? It's too hot/too cold/about to rain/too early.  I'm feeling too tired/too sleepy/too much to do."  But I've learned to not quit, to instead convince myself to get to mile 4.  Because somewhere between mile 3 and mile 4, those annoying demoralizing thoughts of "maybe I'll quit early" go away and instead, I'm thinking about nothing.  Thoughts are slowly drifting out my head, and I'm lulled by my breaths.  Or maybe I've found one thought that I'm casually, amusingly tossing around.  Each step has become part of a meditative rhythm and I am feeling like an efficient machine.  My speed increases and I'm feeling like this was what my body was meant to do: turn calories into energy, breaths into steps, determination into speed.