Everyone who has run a 5K (or any race, for that matter) knows the "uh-oh" moment. It's that moment that you look down at your watch after a mile of adrenaline-fueled racing and go "uh-oh....I'm gonna die..." I raced the Mountain Dew Invitational cross country race last weekend, and as I passed the stopwatch-gripping collegiate coaches at mile 1, they barked out "6:10...6:11...6:12.." My heart sank, and I looked at my watch to confirm: I had ran a 6:10 first mile. Uh-oh.
I felt good, but I was 10 seconds off pace and there were hills scattered throughout the course. Three miles is a long time to hold an effort that is just short of maximal. In fact, it's like a suicide race for a distance runner like me. The weather was hot and humid, and it felt as if the moisture in the air was smothering my lungs. I looked around at one point the race, and thought about how cool it was to be running and competing with so many college athletes, all who had the privilege to wear a singlet bearing their school's name. But then my thoughts shifted back to how much pain I was in, and I tried to concentrate on controlling my breathing. Then I ran past another barrage of coaches at mile two. I looked at my watch again: 12:50.
I took a few more strides before it set in. I had run a two mile PR (faster than I had ever run in high school, on the track no less!) in the middle of my 5K. I heard a coach yell to one of his runners that she was on pace for an under 20 finish. "That's what you want more that anything in the world..." I thought to myself, trying to stay motivated. Unfortunately, I felt my energy waning, and I for some reason I knew at that moment that today wasn't going to be the day. In hindsight, if I could have been able to keep a positive attitude at that point in the race, I may have pulled it off.
I struggled through the last mile, bumbling over the last hill as my legs were rebelling any further movement. My confident gallop at the start had turned into a marathoner's shuffle. Just like all cross country races, the end of the race was ambiguous. Just when you think you are turning towards the finish, you loop around with the finish line in sight. It's so heartbreaking. Regardless, I did my best to finish strong, but I felt like I was running in slow motion towards the finish line. I at least knew that I had run really hard that day, because I really did not have much left at the end.
When I was able to make out the 20 on the clock, I instantly dropped my head muttered a special word or two. Not today. I still finished in 20:50, which is something I never did in high school or in an official race. I was proud of not walking or stopping, as I have done so many times before when I put pressure on myself. I came very close in that last mile.
I walked away from the race extremely happy, because I realized that time isn't everything. I was proud of my effort, and I was grateful just to be out there racing. I also realized that I have people that love me very much. I got to see my coach and old cross country team, who came out early to watch, as well as other friends who came to cheer me and the others on. Their support meant so much to me, and seeing them at the finish line was the best part of all. They say distance running and training is lonely and self-centered, but I actually think that is far from the truth. The camaraderie in suffering is absolutely amazing, and you can't put a value on a couple of friendly faces smiling at you as you feel like dying at the end of a race. :)
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Balance
Ask someone how to become a better runner, and they'll say something like "Well, you need a good mix of easy runs, tempo runs, speedwork, and long runs." Ask someone how to "get jacked" and they'll say you need to "do a lot of heavy lifting, but also a lot of rest in between." Ask someone how to improve their diet, and they'll reply "Eat from all the food groups in moderation, including a variety of vegetables, fruits and grains, as well as choosing your animal products wisely." See the common theme? Balance is at the center of every healthy, enjoyable life.
Although many of us would like to think that there's no such thing as "too much of a good thing", there most certainly is. Too much training without rest leads to burnout and injuries, too much studying leads to coffee overconsumption and sporadic academic thoughts, too much partying...you get the idea. However, all the things I just mentioned belong somewhere in everyone's lifestyle, (yes, even the partying one) just how much of each depends on what it takes to balance the almighty teeter-totter of life. Sure, it's not realistic to have a parallel teeter-totter, (we found this out as kids on the playground) but we can't have the skinny kid vaulting off the top of it either. Imagine one side representing achievement, and the other side representing enjoyment. It's important to even out out efforts toward having fun and being dedicated to our goals in life.
It's important to work hard, but it's also important to relax and recover. It seems that there is no in-between in college-it's one extreme or the other. We all find ourselves a little off balance every now and then, both with life and with training. The great thing about life, though, is that every day is a new chance, another try, and another sunrise.
The Poem:
I run before the day's begun,
with pattering footsteps I chase the rising sun
finding something no one else has found
In a world that's quiet and on solid ground
every breath nourishes my beating heart,
pounding, pounding away in the solitude and dark
Smiling as my legs ache at the end,
It was an hour of my day that I could pretend
that time was one of my dearest friends.
No weight on my shoulders, no work to be done,
Besides this run before the rising sun.
Although many of us would like to think that there's no such thing as "too much of a good thing", there most certainly is. Too much training without rest leads to burnout and injuries, too much studying leads to coffee overconsumption and sporadic academic thoughts, too much partying...you get the idea. However, all the things I just mentioned belong somewhere in everyone's lifestyle, (yes, even the partying one) just how much of each depends on what it takes to balance the almighty teeter-totter of life. Sure, it's not realistic to have a parallel teeter-totter, (we found this out as kids on the playground) but we can't have the skinny kid vaulting off the top of it either. Imagine one side representing achievement, and the other side representing enjoyment. It's important to even out out efforts toward having fun and being dedicated to our goals in life.
It's important to work hard, but it's also important to relax and recover. It seems that there is no in-between in college-it's one extreme or the other. We all find ourselves a little off balance every now and then, both with life and with training. The great thing about life, though, is that every day is a new chance, another try, and another sunrise.
The Poem:
I run before the day's begun,
with pattering footsteps I chase the rising sun
finding something no one else has found
In a world that's quiet and on solid ground
every breath nourishes my beating heart,
pounding, pounding away in the solitude and dark
Smiling as my legs ache at the end,
It was an hour of my day that I could pretend
that time was one of my dearest friends.
No weight on my shoulders, no work to be done,
Besides this run before the rising sun.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
The biggest training secret of all: Confidence and a positive attitude
I'm sure we've all heard the phrase "attitude is everything", and I've never believed this to be more true. Sure, elite athletes have the best coaches, genes, training facilities, means of recovery, etc; but they also possess something that is available to all of us: a supreme confidence in themselves and their training, as well as a happy-go-lucky attitude. They enjoy what they are doing everyday, and completely believe in themselves. Some of them are cocky, yes, but it's good to be cocky-in moderation.
Even if we mortals had all of the resources available to us that the elites to us, we would not see great improvement without happiness with ourselves and acceptance of who we are in the present. If you are not happy with yourself today, you have to make the commitment to be better tomorrow. I'm not saying that you should wake up everyday and think "Oh, I'll start training tomorrow." Theoretically, tomorrow would never come in this scenario. One of my favorite running quotes is "Don't spend your whole life wondering how good of a runner you could be. Become that runner today." So my point is, no matter if you are starting from the ground or a couple rungs up, improvement should always be your goal from the day. There's always something we could do better. Be encouraged by the possibilities, not discouraged by reality. Reality is overrated sometimes.
Believe in yourself and what you are doing. There is no room for second-guessing or negativity. It's just not worth it, especially when you are training and racing. No matter what your goal is, it's imperative that you stick with it. No matter how lofty it is, where there's a will there's a way. Keep that frown upside down, and be cognizant of the benefits of a positive attitude. Racing is so much more fun when you have confidence.
This pep talk has been brought to you by a long wait before class and a thunderstorm...
Even if we mortals had all of the resources available to us that the elites to us, we would not see great improvement without happiness with ourselves and acceptance of who we are in the present. If you are not happy with yourself today, you have to make the commitment to be better tomorrow. I'm not saying that you should wake up everyday and think "Oh, I'll start training tomorrow." Theoretically, tomorrow would never come in this scenario. One of my favorite running quotes is "Don't spend your whole life wondering how good of a runner you could be. Become that runner today." So my point is, no matter if you are starting from the ground or a couple rungs up, improvement should always be your goal from the day. There's always something we could do better. Be encouraged by the possibilities, not discouraged by reality. Reality is overrated sometimes.
Believe in yourself and what you are doing. There is no room for second-guessing or negativity. It's just not worth it, especially when you are training and racing. No matter what your goal is, it's imperative that you stick with it. No matter how lofty it is, where there's a will there's a way. Keep that frown upside down, and be cognizant of the benefits of a positive attitude. Racing is so much more fun when you have confidence.
This pep talk has been brought to you by a long wait before class and a thunderstorm...
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
The runs on Honey Hill Rd
This past weekend, my family and I went to Arkansas for my cousin's wedding. Training-wise, I had prepared for the trip by kicking my butt the week before, so the next week could be a recovery week, and so I had an excuse not to train hard for a few days. I knew that there was no chance of swimming or cycling on my trip, but at least I could still run. I love running because of its simplicity, lack of necessary equipment, and the ability to do it almost anywhere. I had not planned to do any hard workouts over the weekend, and I knew that I would lose Friday as a training day because of the travel and rehearsal dinner that evening. But then I saw Honey Hill Rd.
We stayed in my aunt's house in Searcy, Arkansas, a town that had an interesting mix of the old and new, country and city. She happened to live off of the main drag in a neighborhood accessed by Honey Hill. This road was a narrow and country, with rolling hills and not much civilization past my aunt's neighborhood. I cracked a smile as we barreled over the hills on the way to Little Rock for the rehearsal dinner. I HAD to run these hills.
So on Saturday morning, I set out at 8:30 AM down Honey Hill Rd, planning to run for an hour at an easy pace so that I could take in the surroundings. The first hill was the biggest, and it was within the first mile of the run. My legs tingled with that hill-running feeling, something I haven't felt since Collegiate Nationals in Tuscaloosa (and I was grossly unprepared for those at the time). The road had no sidewalks, so I plodded along in the opposite direction of traffic, as I had read to do in Runner's World Magazine. Several large trucks passed me, politely waving and granting me the whole lane. People in the south are so friendly that way. I started anticipating the wave, and ran with my arm locked in an acknowledging position. I thought about how Arkansas was such a different world than Florida, how the pace of living was slower, the sky more clear, and the houses more, well, homey. I thought about the wedding later that day, and how proud I am of my cousin. The stream was interrupted, however, when a black dog and his terrier accomplice came running from one of the country houses I was running by. Luckily he was friendly, so I stopped and petted him as he jumped and ran circles around me. That sure doesn't happen every day. I ran to the end of Honey Hill and back, 6.71 miles in 51:21. Not very slow after all...
Sunday I did hill repeats on the aforementioned first big hill. I did 6 of them, sprinting over the top and cruising down the other side. I had definitely forgotten how hard hill repeats are. It was a great and fast workout, and it left my legs pleasantly fatigued. I had a water bottle that I would drink every time I came back over the hill toward my aunt's house, and I would rest a minute before starting the next set. Several cars were passing me, since it was Sunday and everybody was heading to church. After my 4th repeat, two cars a minute apart stopped and asked me "Honey, are you okay?", with a thick southern accent. I mustered up my best southern accent and replied "I'm just fine, just wettin' my whistle real quick." (ok, not really, but I wish I did) But I found it really amusing. No one in Florida would ever ask me such a thing. I guess they aren't used to seeing a red-faced blonde girl running on their road in nothing but a sports bra and running shorts. It should be noted that it was very hot all weekend, with the highs in the 100's and lows in the 80's. The lack of humidity was nice, but it was like going from the sauna to the oven. The feels-like temperature was 112 degrees the night of the wedding. I could have easily passed out on the side of the road, and if I did, I have no doubts that I would be quickly resuscitated with sweet tea and homemade biscuits and jam.
Monday I did the same workout as Friday, running 6.7 miles. We were going to be traveling all day, so I had to do something in order to keep me from going crazy on the plane. I was able to relax a little more this time, as I was more familiar with the route and had a feel for the distance. This time I left the house closer to 7:30, and the temperature was very tolerable. I saw my furry friends again around mile two, and was passed by a lot of cars heading into town for another work week. I still couldn't stop thinking about how I must look like a foreign life form running on their country road. I felt kind of like the joggers of the 80's, when people began to run around their cities in bright clothing for no apparent reason. People used to think that running was only for when you were getting chased by a wild animal or in a hurry to catch a train (or plane, or taxi...). I got several strange looks, and they were probably annoyed at having to go around me. So the drivers probably didn't enjoy my running, but I sure did. It was refreshing to run outside of my regular environment, and to run somewhere it wasn't as flat as a pancake. Sometimes, a change of scenery can do wonders for your training. My quads didn't like it so much, however, and they are still aching from the downhills. Yep, in contrast to conventional thinking, it's the downhills that really hurt. Also in contrast to conventional thinking, I really enjoyed my time in Arkansas.
We stayed in my aunt's house in Searcy, Arkansas, a town that had an interesting mix of the old and new, country and city. She happened to live off of the main drag in a neighborhood accessed by Honey Hill. This road was a narrow and country, with rolling hills and not much civilization past my aunt's neighborhood. I cracked a smile as we barreled over the hills on the way to Little Rock for the rehearsal dinner. I HAD to run these hills.
So on Saturday morning, I set out at 8:30 AM down Honey Hill Rd, planning to run for an hour at an easy pace so that I could take in the surroundings. The first hill was the biggest, and it was within the first mile of the run. My legs tingled with that hill-running feeling, something I haven't felt since Collegiate Nationals in Tuscaloosa (and I was grossly unprepared for those at the time). The road had no sidewalks, so I plodded along in the opposite direction of traffic, as I had read to do in Runner's World Magazine. Several large trucks passed me, politely waving and granting me the whole lane. People in the south are so friendly that way. I started anticipating the wave, and ran with my arm locked in an acknowledging position. I thought about how Arkansas was such a different world than Florida, how the pace of living was slower, the sky more clear, and the houses more, well, homey. I thought about the wedding later that day, and how proud I am of my cousin. The stream was interrupted, however, when a black dog and his terrier accomplice came running from one of the country houses I was running by. Luckily he was friendly, so I stopped and petted him as he jumped and ran circles around me. That sure doesn't happen every day. I ran to the end of Honey Hill and back, 6.71 miles in 51:21. Not very slow after all...
Sunday I did hill repeats on the aforementioned first big hill. I did 6 of them, sprinting over the top and cruising down the other side. I had definitely forgotten how hard hill repeats are. It was a great and fast workout, and it left my legs pleasantly fatigued. I had a water bottle that I would drink every time I came back over the hill toward my aunt's house, and I would rest a minute before starting the next set. Several cars were passing me, since it was Sunday and everybody was heading to church. After my 4th repeat, two cars a minute apart stopped and asked me "Honey, are you okay?", with a thick southern accent. I mustered up my best southern accent and replied "I'm just fine, just wettin' my whistle real quick." (ok, not really, but I wish I did) But I found it really amusing. No one in Florida would ever ask me such a thing. I guess they aren't used to seeing a red-faced blonde girl running on their road in nothing but a sports bra and running shorts. It should be noted that it was very hot all weekend, with the highs in the 100's and lows in the 80's. The lack of humidity was nice, but it was like going from the sauna to the oven. The feels-like temperature was 112 degrees the night of the wedding. I could have easily passed out on the side of the road, and if I did, I have no doubts that I would be quickly resuscitated with sweet tea and homemade biscuits and jam.
Monday I did the same workout as Friday, running 6.7 miles. We were going to be traveling all day, so I had to do something in order to keep me from going crazy on the plane. I was able to relax a little more this time, as I was more familiar with the route and had a feel for the distance. This time I left the house closer to 7:30, and the temperature was very tolerable. I saw my furry friends again around mile two, and was passed by a lot of cars heading into town for another work week. I still couldn't stop thinking about how I must look like a foreign life form running on their country road. I felt kind of like the joggers of the 80's, when people began to run around their cities in bright clothing for no apparent reason. People used to think that running was only for when you were getting chased by a wild animal or in a hurry to catch a train (or plane, or taxi...). I got several strange looks, and they were probably annoyed at having to go around me. So the drivers probably didn't enjoy my running, but I sure did. It was refreshing to run outside of my regular environment, and to run somewhere it wasn't as flat as a pancake. Sometimes, a change of scenery can do wonders for your training. My quads didn't like it so much, however, and they are still aching from the downhills. Yep, in contrast to conventional thinking, it's the downhills that really hurt. Also in contrast to conventional thinking, I really enjoyed my time in Arkansas.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
A lot of things can happen on a 14 mile run...
I walked out of the door at 6:40 am on Saturday, fueled with a granola bar and half a banana, ready to take on 13 miles of road. It was humid and already 81 degrees, but the weather felt tolerable (you know there's a problem when you start calling 81 degrees "cool") I meandered across the street, took a deep breath, and tapped the start button on my watch. I have grown to cherish my Saturday long runs; I'm in love with the long solitude, the sunrise, and the challenge of distance. I didn't seem to mind that my legs were burning with lactic acid left over from Friday's 7.5 mile workout (see workout below).
About 4 miles in, a cramp began to take a hold of my stomach. My thoughts immediately shifted to my first Olympic distance triathlon, when I walk-ran the first 3 miles and was in the most pain of my life. I thought also about Tuscaloosa just 3 months ago, and how hot it was that day. "Well, at least it isn't 90 degrees yet..." I thought, trying to find some positive light. Then I remembered an article I read about a world champion triathlete. The article said that the triathlete was having stomach problems every time he raced, so once a month he would fill his stomach with Mexican food and then go out for a run. He said that his stomach "blew up" as it did during his races, and he learned to mentally cope and to push through the discomfort. Talk about training outside the box. So, to apply this to my current situation, I decided that I was happy that my stomach felt like it was going to explode. It was going to give me a mental edge in the upcoming fall racing season. But as I neared my 6.5 mile turnaround, I realized that the rest of this run was going to be really uncomfortable. If I ran just another half a mile, there was a water fountain and a bathroom in downtown Dunedin. I decided that I had suffered enough, and ran the extra half a mile.
Feeling better, I made the turn for home in good spirits. After passing Curlew, (my 4 miles to go landmark) a smile spread across my face. Another long run down! However, I met a new obstacle. I heard this voice: "Hey! Are you going to keep running south? I have 59 miles to go, do you mind if I follow you?" My head swiveled to my right, and I saw and old, sun-shriveled man in orange swimming trunks from the 80's and a pair of flip flops. I laughed. 59 miles? He must be joking, he's wearing flip flops. I kept running, and I threw a "yeah" as an answer to appease him. But then suddenly, the man was running beside me. He went on to tell me that he had been running since 2 am that morning, and that he had started in Madeira beach. He was planning on covering 75 miles that day. He talked about how he runs over 200 miles a week, and told me several times to Google "flip flop man" to learn more about him. (he later told me he has Alziemer's, so that's why he repeated himself a lot) His mouth moved just as quickly as his flip-flop clad feet; he talked about how he didn't quite get the Guiness World Record for miles in 6 days, how he was 66 years old, and that he always runs shirtless and without sunscreen, even in the winter. Although I was very weirded out, he did help me keep my mind off of the fatigue settling into my legs. The man kept running ahead of me and zig-zagging across the trail, apparently trying to avoid the sun the best he could. He kept telling me how I was running much faster than he usually does, and that he should probably slow down, but he kept sprinting ahead of me. I was getting angry because I was trying to keep up with him, and I was getting tired and didn't need to run fast on my LSD (long slow distance) day. He later admitted he "doesn't usually run this fast" and felt like he "needed to impress" me. Ew. Weird.
He finally dropped off my pace by Crystal Beach, and I had just half a mile left to hammer out. I swear, anything and everything can happen when you're out there for almost 2 hours (time: 1:52:03). It was definitely an eventful run, and a mile more than I had planned. Good thing next week is a cut back week.
Friday's workout (it's a good one!)
10 minutes marathon pace
2 minute jog
8 minutes half-marathon pace
4 minute jog
6 minutes 10K pace
6 minute jog
4 minutes 5K pace
8 minute jog
2 minutes mile pace
10 minute jog/cooldown
About 4 miles in, a cramp began to take a hold of my stomach. My thoughts immediately shifted to my first Olympic distance triathlon, when I walk-ran the first 3 miles and was in the most pain of my life. I thought also about Tuscaloosa just 3 months ago, and how hot it was that day. "Well, at least it isn't 90 degrees yet..." I thought, trying to find some positive light. Then I remembered an article I read about a world champion triathlete. The article said that the triathlete was having stomach problems every time he raced, so once a month he would fill his stomach with Mexican food and then go out for a run. He said that his stomach "blew up" as it did during his races, and he learned to mentally cope and to push through the discomfort. Talk about training outside the box. So, to apply this to my current situation, I decided that I was happy that my stomach felt like it was going to explode. It was going to give me a mental edge in the upcoming fall racing season. But as I neared my 6.5 mile turnaround, I realized that the rest of this run was going to be really uncomfortable. If I ran just another half a mile, there was a water fountain and a bathroom in downtown Dunedin. I decided that I had suffered enough, and ran the extra half a mile.
Feeling better, I made the turn for home in good spirits. After passing Curlew, (my 4 miles to go landmark) a smile spread across my face. Another long run down! However, I met a new obstacle. I heard this voice: "Hey! Are you going to keep running south? I have 59 miles to go, do you mind if I follow you?" My head swiveled to my right, and I saw and old, sun-shriveled man in orange swimming trunks from the 80's and a pair of flip flops. I laughed. 59 miles? He must be joking, he's wearing flip flops. I kept running, and I threw a "yeah" as an answer to appease him. But then suddenly, the man was running beside me. He went on to tell me that he had been running since 2 am that morning, and that he had started in Madeira beach. He was planning on covering 75 miles that day. He talked about how he runs over 200 miles a week, and told me several times to Google "flip flop man" to learn more about him. (he later told me he has Alziemer's, so that's why he repeated himself a lot) His mouth moved just as quickly as his flip-flop clad feet; he talked about how he didn't quite get the Guiness World Record for miles in 6 days, how he was 66 years old, and that he always runs shirtless and without sunscreen, even in the winter. Although I was very weirded out, he did help me keep my mind off of the fatigue settling into my legs. The man kept running ahead of me and zig-zagging across the trail, apparently trying to avoid the sun the best he could. He kept telling me how I was running much faster than he usually does, and that he should probably slow down, but he kept sprinting ahead of me. I was getting angry because I was trying to keep up with him, and I was getting tired and didn't need to run fast on my LSD (long slow distance) day. He later admitted he "doesn't usually run this fast" and felt like he "needed to impress" me. Ew. Weird.
He finally dropped off my pace by Crystal Beach, and I had just half a mile left to hammer out. I swear, anything and everything can happen when you're out there for almost 2 hours (time: 1:52:03). It was definitely an eventful run, and a mile more than I had planned. Good thing next week is a cut back week.
Friday's workout (it's a good one!)
10 minutes marathon pace
2 minute jog
8 minutes half-marathon pace
4 minute jog
6 minutes 10K pace
6 minute jog
4 minutes 5K pace
8 minute jog
2 minutes mile pace
10 minute jog/cooldown
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
If you never try...
"If you never try then you'll never know exactly what you're worth" -Coldplay
I am relaxing after a tough morning track workout and a gym lifting session, listening to music and getting ready for an evening open water swim. I usually listen to music mostly while running, but I've killed three ipods within a month with my own sweat (don't ask me how, because I don't know) so I've had to get my music fix elsewhere. I've grown to love Coldplay for their awesome lyrics and English rock vibe. I came across this line in the song "Fix you", off of their X and Y album. It has to be the best running-related line I have ever heard in a song (besides, maybe "Tramps like us, baby we were born to run" by Bruce Springsteen)
Endurance sports are all about testing your limits. How fast can I go? How far can I go? Where is the breaking point, when my legs stop moving and my diaphragm can't manage another labored breath? These are questions that will unanswered if we do not try. Never go through life not knowing what "could be"; potential is an awful thing to waste. Shoot for the moon, and even if you don't make it, you'll still land among the stars. Having big dreams is frustrating most of the time, but the path to success is paved with failure and perseverance. Perseverance is the key, because you never know when your time will come. Triumph is sometimes found in the most unlikely of places, and it will will never be found if you stop looking.
Just because something is unlikely doesn't mean you shouldn't give it a go. Goals are always worth having, because the pursuit is just as exhilarating as actually achieving that benchmark. The process of training is magical, and so satisfying. It seems that I've raced countless times and trained thousands of hours, with limited success. Good thing I love training, or else I would have quit a long time ago. I'm still searching for what I'm worth, though. If I never try, then I'll never know.
But for now, this is what I'm dreaming of :)
I am relaxing after a tough morning track workout and a gym lifting session, listening to music and getting ready for an evening open water swim. I usually listen to music mostly while running, but I've killed three ipods within a month with my own sweat (don't ask me how, because I don't know) so I've had to get my music fix elsewhere. I've grown to love Coldplay for their awesome lyrics and English rock vibe. I came across this line in the song "Fix you", off of their X and Y album. It has to be the best running-related line I have ever heard in a song (besides, maybe "Tramps like us, baby we were born to run" by Bruce Springsteen)
Endurance sports are all about testing your limits. How fast can I go? How far can I go? Where is the breaking point, when my legs stop moving and my diaphragm can't manage another labored breath? These are questions that will unanswered if we do not try. Never go through life not knowing what "could be"; potential is an awful thing to waste. Shoot for the moon, and even if you don't make it, you'll still land among the stars. Having big dreams is frustrating most of the time, but the path to success is paved with failure and perseverance. Perseverance is the key, because you never know when your time will come. Triumph is sometimes found in the most unlikely of places, and it will will never be found if you stop looking.
Just because something is unlikely doesn't mean you shouldn't give it a go. Goals are always worth having, because the pursuit is just as exhilarating as actually achieving that benchmark. The process of training is magical, and so satisfying. It seems that I've raced countless times and trained thousands of hours, with limited success. Good thing I love training, or else I would have quit a long time ago. I'm still searching for what I'm worth, though. If I never try, then I'll never know.
But for now, this is what I'm dreaming of :)
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Grains in an hourglass
What is time, other than just grains in an hourglass? It governs how we live our daily lives, and it certainly plays a major role in an athlete's training. I'm always thinking about how long I'm training every day, and how long it takes me to cover a certain distance. But I'm starting to wonder, is time overrated? Is there something better out there than just a few numbers?
Yesterday I went for a recovery run, and I made the awful mistake of running a route that I know very, very well. When I hit the stop button on my watch, I already knew what pace I had run without having to calculate anything. I kept telling myself that the run had to be slow, in order to achieve the desired effect: recovery. And it was. It was exactly the pace I wanted it to be. But for some reason, it really bothered me that I had run a relatively short run THAT slow. I am new to the world of "proper" training; in my first years as a distance runner, almost every run was at the same medium pace. However, I have discovered that you should train over a wide variety of paces, depending on the purpose of the run. Makes a lot of sense, right? Well then why did it bother me so much? Answer: I am a slave to the clock, just like many other distance athletes are. And it's a shame. Training is a lot less stressful when you go about things by feel. Each day you should use the energy that is easily available to you; you shouldn't have to dig really deep on a daily basis. Your body will tell you when it wants to expend itself, as I have found out over the course of this summer. There have been times where I've felt like super woman, and other times where I've felt like a super slacker. But I think I'm finally starting to understand how to "listen" to my body. For example, this morning it told me to blog instead of run (I'm going to run later, of course :) ).
Another thing that amazes me is how a few seconds difference in a finishing time can be the difference between success and complete failure. We get these numbers stuck in our heads, and if we come in a few seconds tardy, we have failed. If I were to run a 20:01 5K, it would be a personal best. But it would also be a failure, because it isn't under my ultimate goal of 20:00. It's sad, but true.
What I do love about time, though, is how it seems to stop while I train. I'm in another world, where chronological time doesn't exist, and doesn't matter. While I was in school, I loved my morning workout because it was the hour of peace before the rest of the day was placed heavily on my shoulders. It was the hour of my day that never happened. Training is like leaving the world at one time, and then re-entering it at another. I always know that time has passed, because I most likely timed it on my watch. But I always feel like the day stops when I'm on the roads.
Time is important, but not really. After all, it's just grains in an hourglass.
Yesterday I went for a recovery run, and I made the awful mistake of running a route that I know very, very well. When I hit the stop button on my watch, I already knew what pace I had run without having to calculate anything. I kept telling myself that the run had to be slow, in order to achieve the desired effect: recovery. And it was. It was exactly the pace I wanted it to be. But for some reason, it really bothered me that I had run a relatively short run THAT slow. I am new to the world of "proper" training; in my first years as a distance runner, almost every run was at the same medium pace. However, I have discovered that you should train over a wide variety of paces, depending on the purpose of the run. Makes a lot of sense, right? Well then why did it bother me so much? Answer: I am a slave to the clock, just like many other distance athletes are. And it's a shame. Training is a lot less stressful when you go about things by feel. Each day you should use the energy that is easily available to you; you shouldn't have to dig really deep on a daily basis. Your body will tell you when it wants to expend itself, as I have found out over the course of this summer. There have been times where I've felt like super woman, and other times where I've felt like a super slacker. But I think I'm finally starting to understand how to "listen" to my body. For example, this morning it told me to blog instead of run (I'm going to run later, of course :) ).
Another thing that amazes me is how a few seconds difference in a finishing time can be the difference between success and complete failure. We get these numbers stuck in our heads, and if we come in a few seconds tardy, we have failed. If I were to run a 20:01 5K, it would be a personal best. But it would also be a failure, because it isn't under my ultimate goal of 20:00. It's sad, but true.
What I do love about time, though, is how it seems to stop while I train. I'm in another world, where chronological time doesn't exist, and doesn't matter. While I was in school, I loved my morning workout because it was the hour of peace before the rest of the day was placed heavily on my shoulders. It was the hour of my day that never happened. Training is like leaving the world at one time, and then re-entering it at another. I always know that time has passed, because I most likely timed it on my watch. But I always feel like the day stops when I'm on the roads.
Time is important, but not really. After all, it's just grains in an hourglass.
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