When is it Quitting? When is it Compromise?

Last time I wrote about having a bad run, the badness was due to specific circumstances of that day. Today's awful run was a combination of things that began earlier this week. To start, the last run I had was Tuesday night, when pending election results sent me into a nervous tizzy and I sped my way along a very quick 3-mile route with M at my side.

After that run, I happily slept through four mornings when I could have run, but chose not to. Yesterday night, M and I had a bit of an impromptu date-night, which included buffalo wings slathered in rich, syrupy sauces and a ludicrously large hard cider. Needless to say, not a really great dinner the night before a long run.

Oh, extreme allergy conditions? Great.

So there brewed a dangerous storm. Then, this morning saw some rookie mistakes I should have known to avoid. For one, I checked the weather and knew it would be sunny but cool (in the 60s) when we started the run. I dressed for cool weather, forgetting that the sun actually still creates a warmer "feels-like" temperature in November, and hardly four miles into the run I felt fatigued and overheated. I found I needed a walk break early on, probably because my starting pace was in the mid-9s. Our long runs have been in the mid-to-low 10s, so this was a ridiculous pace to start off at. My legs were heavy and uncooperative, and I wasn't able to get a good breathing rhythm going. This is probably due to increased allergies; although the high allergy count is for indoor allergies only, anything that affects my breathing triggers my asthma, and I've been feeling short-breathed and congested for day. This is possibly also caused by the bad bout of Red Tide we've had in the area.

I should pause here to mention that K was sick last week, so she opted for a 6-mile run, and SB and I planned 11. We all met up together, but K took off on her own early on. About four miles in, I dropped back from SB. Putting in music and setting a slower pace helped until I got to mile 5. At this point, I came to my water bottle. I only dropped off one bottle today, so by the time I got to it, I guzzled it down, leading to a cramping and sloshy stomach. At this point was the turn-around, but I couldn't fathom running the bridge a second time. Instead, I headed off down an alternate route, and I was able to shuffle-run until the main turning point, but pretty soon after reaching the next main road, I gave up on myself. I walked nearly a full mile, paused at the park for a drink, contemplated asking an early-morning tennis player for use of his cell phone to call M...

I ran from the park, knowing my car was 2.5 miles south, and instead veered off on the mile route home. I woke M, and he drove me to the car. The 11-mile run became 9.1. The time was laughably slow; I apparently walk at a 20-minute pace. I felt discouraged, even more so because I gave up on myself and 1) allowed so many walk breaks and 2) cut the distance short. While these decisions were probably good for my overtaxed body, I can't help but hate myself a little bit for making them. When it is quitting, and when is it compromise?

We need to learn from our mistakes, of course, and I think I have. If I know early during a crucial run that things aren't going right, it might be best to change plans early and salvage the run as best I can. I need to adjust my running plan later in the week if the plan earlier in the week changed. I need to trust my instincts over the weather report. I need to plan my pace better from the beginning, and I need to stay hydrated.

Even knowing all these things logically, I'm still feeling moody and regretful today. This was not how I wanted my final long run before our Half to go. I'm actually not feeling like this will be detrimental to the race, and if anything it's given me a chance to see how I run in the sunlight for a long distance. But all those walk breaks...man, those are what really get me. I always feel so worthless, like I've let myself down and allowed my mind to beat me back. I've been making such amazing progress, and it was like the little Negative Nancy in my head wanted to prove she still exists.

Alright; I get it. And I'm going to shake this off and redeem myself this week and kick butt on Sunday. And then I'm going to take some mental rest, because training is starting to eat my brain, and I think that's mostly what made me weak today. On any other day, in usual circumstances, I could have run through the funk. Today, my brain got the best of me. That's all there is to it. Time to move on.

ABK

Weekly Report: Oct. 29 - Nov. 4

This was quite the week. K and I were awake and on time to each of our runs. We did every distance we planned, including a tempo run that I wrote about here. On Saturday morning, we planned to do 13 miles. As we dropped off our water at the 4-mile and 8-mile checkpoints, K and I began having doubts. But we soldiered on.

It took about four miles to really warm up, and then I felt strong. We kept a steady, slow pace in the mid-10s for most of the miles. (We even had some sub-10s, which is great considering our long runs are never that fast!) Around mile 9, both K and I began to feel the mileage wearing on us, and by the last three miles both of us were struggling through intense knee pain. Still, we picked up the pace for the last mile in order to come in under 2:15. My Half goal is (publicly) 2:30 and (privately...but now publicly) 2:15, so it was good to meet that goal in training!

The run did so much for us. Not only do I now know that I can run 13 miles without stopping for more than a drink or two, but now I've destroyed my Half time by 45 minutes, and I'm feeling really confident for November 18. Of course, I'm also absolutely wrecked with nerves. I've never felt both so excited and so anxious for Thanksgiving Break!

Anyway, after the 13 miles I came home and decided to stay on my feet to ward off sore muscles. A batch of chocolate chip pancakes later, M and I were on our way across the state for a wedding. Three hours in the car left me surprisingly spry, and I was even able to wear heels! I only experienced any pain when I tried to jump during the Cha-Cha Slide, or when standing up from my seat. As of today, I'm virtually pain-free, but we took today off and I was happy for it.




So this week was mile-heavy and really, really strong after a couple of weeks that fell a bit short. Two weeks until the Half! Crunch time!

ABK

Mind Games

I've been itching to write a post dedicated to the simple pleasure of the casual run - the kind where you didn't necessarily plan it ahead, and you're just blowing off steam - but this morning's run was just the opposite of that and quickly proved it deserved its own post. I suppose the other will wait for another day.

If I had to define what kind of racer I consider myself, I would say "cautious". I go into each race thinking, "I'll just keep my pace steady; I hope I meet [insert really easy goal here]." I don't have much swagger or confidence. I set my expectations low to avoid failure, a weakness in myself I've discussed a couple times.

I'm scared that if I push my pace, I'll burn out and end up limping my way to the finish, unable to even conjure up the energy to trot. So instead of setting a race pace that's really challenging, I actually try to ratchet down my speed during races. I know the adrenaline and the people all around will get me going, so I purposely try to counteract that by setting a slower pace.

But today's run - and Tuesday's, as well - have been working on my mind to lift this fear. Our Monday run left me feeling a bit tired, and I hadn't really given it my all, so I was happy to only do three miles Tuesday. But during those three miles, K and I ran at the same pace. She was doing a pace that was easy for her, and  in wanting to keep up with her, I reminded myself that this was a short run and therefore I could push myself and be okay. Her easy run is, for me, a challenge.

We finished those three miles in just over 28 minutes. My 5k time is usually mid-29s. So this means, of course, that I've been shortchanging my 5ks. I told M later that evening that I realized I could probably run a 5k in 28 minutes easily if I were just willing to be a little more uncomfortable for the duration of the run. Of course, letting people know of a goal like that means setting yourself up for embarrassment if you don't reach it, right? Well, maybe not, but it's certainly how my mind works.

Then we ran today. We did a 4.5 mile tempo run. I'd had in the back of my head K's latest blog post, wherein she mentions that the warmup mile we usually do was too slow for her these days. I kept this in mind as we ran this morning, doing our first mile together. (For those new to training runs, a tempo run gives you a warm-up mile and cool-down mile, and you run the middle distance at race pace.) That mile was around 9:28, which was faster than the race pace I did on the last tempo. Our run took us over the bridge and back today, so as I kicked up my speed for the middle 3+ miles, I had that moment of doubt.

K took off at her pace, and I followed diligently. Something in my mind seemed to click. This is "pounding the pavement". I am not going to die from this. I am going to run at a pace that feels uncomfortable until it's time to stop.

And I did. My second mile was 9:13 and my third was 8:56. This is including the bridge. The last mile came in at 9:11, and I took the last half mile in the 9:20s.

I finished this run thinking that I actually felt sore, a good kind of sore, and that I felt I had broken some barrier and proven to myself that the old dictum of running being mostly mental is so damn true! My tendency to slow down at the halfway point, my constant worrying and "checking in" with how I feel, my aggressively uncompetitive nature...these are all obstacles my brain has created to keep me from facing the pain of failure. (The most dangerous is that mid-run slowdown; I know it will destroy me in the Half if I give in to it.)

If you don't try your hardest, you can't be ashamed when you fail, because you can always say, "Oh, well, I didn't really try." How many times have I seen students working under this impression? How often have I told them that failing is how we learn, grow, and make progress? It's terrifying to take a risk, but the outcome is almost always worth it.

I don't think I'm "cured" of these mental hangups by any means. But I do think that these two speedy runs will be strongholds against that whispering doubt. And I know eventually that the doubt won't be able to break through, especially if I do it again and again, running at a faster pace, pushing myself harder, throwing fear of failure and discomfort and momentary pain to the wind. If I relive these runs in my head until the next run, and then the next, I will create stepping stones away from doubt and toward a new confidence.

It scares me to realize how truly desperate I am to feel confident in my runs, in my races. Because wanting to be good means I'm making myself vulnerable. I'm not talking about competing with others; I am fighting a battle with my own mind. I intend to win.

"The real purpose of running isn't to win a race; it's to test the limits of the human heart." -Bill Bowerman, Co-founder of Nike, Inc.

ABK