What Was Good This Week?

     I started going to a new church with Byron a few weeks ago.  It's a group that meets at a church near Kenmore Square.  The pastor is a friend of a friend from college, so that's how we discovered it.  Following each service there is a dinner that is open to everyone.  In addition to being free, it's also a great way to get to know the church, so we've been staying for dinner.  We were making small talk with those around us when a girl from across that table asked a profound question, "What was good this week?"
     Honestly, it caught me off guard.  My canned responses for questions such as "Where are you from?" or "What do you do?" clearly weren't going to work for this one.  And it was such a good question, that I didn't want to give a generic response like "Monday was a holiday." (I actually gave that response initially to buy myself some time to think, but I promised a better response after some reflection.)  I searched my memory for an answer.  Surely something good happened this past week!
     After a minute or two of thought, I finally found my answer.  I explained that I was running in the Boston Marathon in a few weeks and that I had skipped my last two long runs.  I confessed that I was a bit worried about my 18-mile run yesterday, but that I had surprised myself by how well I ran and how well I felt afterwards.  That was definitely something that was good this week.  It was also a good conversation starter that ended up saving everyone else at the table from answering the question.
     I'm definitely going to borrow that question.  It's genuine, it's empathetic, and it's provocative.  If nothing else it's a great question to ask yourself at the end of every week.  It will certainly give me something to ponder during my remaining long runs (still a 19 and a 20-miler left).  What about you?  What was good this week?

Flying by the Seat of My Pants

     In general, I'm very analytical.  I like to know how everything works, and when something doesn't work as it should, I have to know why.  I've been that way for as long as I can remember, and I'm sure that each of my friends can tell you a few stories of me spending (not wasting) many hours/days/weeks trying to solve something just for the sake of solving it.  It's usually painful for them to watch, but it's genuinely satisfying for me.  You would think that this trait would lead me to be a planner--to map everything out in advance, down to the smallest detail--but as my mother will tell you, that's not me at all (and it drives her nuts).

     My parents and my sister are coming to Boston for Marathon Weekend.  I wouldn't be surprised if my mom already has a checklist for everything that she needs to pack.  She might even have started loading the car.  She's a planner.  I guess I didn't get that gene because I have absolutely no problem waiting until the week before a vacation to book a flight (as an example).  I'm usually fairly spontaneous, but for some reason I've gone against my nature when it comes to planning my runs.  For proof, look at my routes.  It's no coincidence that each one is planned down to the exact mile (not a hundredth under or over).  Each turn was meticulously calculated so that I would end at an intersection having run the exact mileage prescribed by the training schedule.  Maybe there's a little bit of my analytical side in that example, but there's no question that I planned each run.

     Well yesterday's run was much different (completely spontaneous), and I have to say I enjoyed it much more than any of my other runs to this point.  I left my apartment only knowing that I would run five miles.  I hadn't planned more than that.  I just started running, and I let the traffic signals dictate my route.  When I hit an intersection, I crossed if I had the walk sign, and i turned the corner if I didn't.  I honestly had no idea where I was going run, so I didn't know when I was 1/2, 3/4, etc. of the way done.  All I had to worry about was running until the voice prompt from my phone said I ran five miles.  The result: a zig-zag route through the Back Bay and the South End and one of my best runs yet (8:30 min/mile and I felt great afterward).  I guess I just wasn't meant to be a planner...and maybe I should stop over-analyzing everything.

  

Inflection Point

     I sat down to blog a few times over the past three weeks, but I just couldn't bring myself to start typing.  It wasn't writers' block that held me back.  Believe me, I've had plenty to write about.  Initially it was laziness, then shame.  When thoughts are put into words and words onto paper (or a computer screen in this case), they somehow take on more meaning--become more real.  I guess it's because the written word is more difficult to change than the mind, and thoughts and feelings are harder to escape once they've been recorded.  I can continue to neglect the blog, as I've neglected the training schedule lately, but if blogging is anything like running--and I'm sure it is--the longer I wait, the harder it will be to get back on track.  I keep telling myself that missing a few runs isn't a big deal, but proof by assertion is not truth, and lying to myself is only making matters worse.  Since this blog (and its readers) is my only source of accountability aside from my innate self-discipline which has proven ineffective, I can't afford to avoid it any longer.  With just under eight weeks until the marathon, it's about time that I face the facts.  So here is my confession--the cold, hard truth (and it's consequences)--and hopefully an inflection point.

     I've started down a slippery slope.  Until two weeks ago I hadn't missed a long run.  It's now February 21, and I've only logged 41 miles (five runs) this month.  To put that into perspective, I should be at 81 miles.  The worst part is that I've skipped two long, weekend runs--the runs that are not only the most important for building endurance, but are also nearly impossible to make up (It's hard to run 17 miles or ~2.5 hours during the week).  I keep trying to justify my decisions to skip the long runs with excuses that sound good on the surface but are insufficient, at best.  I'll wait for the weather to improve.  I need to prepare for interviews.  I don't have clean running clothes.  I don't feel like running.  I'll run tomorrow instead.  I make a lot of excuses, but I really need to stop because I'm out of chances to make up for lost time.

     When I signed up for the marathon, I was well aware of the commitment I was making--the 26.2 miles I'm going to run on April 18, the $3,250 that I'm going to raise for the Flutie Foundation, and the hundreds of hours (and miles) I'm going to spend running in order to prepare.  So from this point on, Mr. Noncommittal is  going to start honoring his commitment.  I'll make up for lost time to the extent that I can, and unless it's absolutely necessary I won't skip another run.  And since it's in writing, you can mark my words.

Oh, I'm Halfway There...

...OOOOOOHHHHH LIVIN' ON A PRAYER!  (Pony, on the slim chance that you're reading this, that was for you.)  I'm a few days behind on the blogging with no good excuses.  Forgive me.  I actually find it harder to blog than I do to run.  I don't know why.  It doesn't take nearly as long, it's much less physically and mentally demanding, and there aren't any outside forces working against me (e.g. the 16" of snow that was dumped on New England over the past two days.)

I ran seven miles tonight.  A few weeks ago seven miles was the longest I had ever run, but seven miles has become a (brisk) walk in the park.  It was pretty uneventful, but I do feel the need to share one thing before I move onto something a little bit more exciting.  I don't get tired after seven miles (at the pace I'm running), but I do get bored when I'm running that far on the treadmill.  To pass the time I think I've broken down those seven miles into just about every possible increment using the metrics that are available on the treadmill's control panel.  28 laps. 910 calories. 9,800 steps. 4 commercial breaks.  63min 35sec.  Pair them together (with one metric in the numerator and another in the denominator) and there are 240 different combinations.  I think I've been through them all.  That is how bored I get!  And I've come to realize that it actually doesn't help pass the time at all.

Right at the five mile mark, with 18 mins and 10 second left to run or 260 calories left to burn, is usually when my boredom really sets in.  By that point, I'm normally watching the 100ths of a mile tick by (every 14 steps).  Well tonight something interrupted the monotony of counting, which you would think is a good thing, but it was not so.  At first I thought someone dropped their water bottle.  After a second thud I thought someone was performing STOMP in the aerobics room.  I looked; it was empty.  Was someone running in Lugz?  I looked to my left to find out.  Not Lugz, Asics, but I'm convinced they had cement soles.  Everyone in the gym could critique this kid's gait.  It was like a metronome that was turned on for the simple purpose of annoying everyone.   I contemplated quitting short of my goal, afraid the stomping would drive me mad, but luckily the kid tired quickly and slowed to a walk after approximately a half mile, and I returned to counting.

I warned you that seven miles wasn't exciting.  And now I must warn you that I'm at the five mile mark of blogging and getting restless, but I'm determined to explain the title of this blog, and there's no one with cinder block shoes marching in place beside me, so I'll push through.  I'm seven weeks into the 18 week training program, not quite halfway in that regard, but I did pass a different halfway marker this weekend.  On Saturday morning I bought a one-way ticket on the commuter rail for $5.25 and headed out to Wellesley.  It took me 20 minutes to get there on the train and 2 hours and 12 minutes to run the last 14 miles of the Boston Marathon route back.  At this point in my training, I'm very happy with that performance.  I still have a lot of work to do, but I completed over half of the marathon on the hardest part of the route.  Granted, I reached Heartbreak Hill after only seven miles opposed to 20, but I also did it without hundreds of people cheering me on and without the music of the BC band inviting me to the top. I'm now halfway there, but you're going to have to endure this blog for at least another 11 weeks.