Here's how I usually work: I like deadlines, and I like using stress as motivation to work faster and more efficiently. I was never the type to plan a term paper in advance and work at it incrementally. I crammed and researched furiously and cranked it out during all-nighters.
But as the trainer told us during the first Marathon 101 class: there's no cramming for a marathon.
You can't skip one day and think you'll make it up later in the week. There are a million good reasons and high priorities that will compete for your time (not to mention laziness and inertia), and you have to choose if you want to do this enough to prepare for it. That's what will challenge me as much as the physicality of running: staying with the training day in and day out.
As Week 1 of 18 ends, I still think I can make it.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Week 1: So far, not too bad
Tuesday: 4 miles
Thursday: 5 miles
Saturday: 3 miles
Sunday: 6 miles
The Class
The Marathon 101 class that I've been imagining as the vehicle to success in running this race finally started this week and will meet every Wednesday until race day - 18 weeks from now. I had hoped to be running 5 miles comfortably before the first class, but I was closer to 3.5-4. I was exceedingly pleased with myself for running 4 miles in 44 minutes the day before the first class - even more so to realize that the schedule that would become my bible called on me to run only 3 miles that day.
My fellow classmates are full of nervous, hopeful energy for what we're attempting. Many of them have incredibly somber, heavy reasons for wanting to take this on and I'm left feeling a bit... silly? Lacking purpose? Up until the first class I felt optimistic, excited and aware that this would be incredibly hard - particularly for someone like me with little experience as a runner. That night I went to bed feeling much more hesitant. My classmates' seriousness and experience, coupled with a close examination of the training schedule (12 miles runs, 16 mile runs, 20 miles? seriously?!), edged my anticipation with doubt.
The First Training Runs
The next morning, per the schedule, I ran 5 miles -- in just under an hour! At some point my gym will call me out for flagrantly violating the time limits on the treadmill. I went to work feeling tired and headachy, and questioning the wisdom of wearing really cute high-heeled shoes.
I expected Saturday's 3-mile run to go pretty easily. I managed it in 31 minutes but I didn't feel as solid as I had earlier in the week. Sunday is the day of long runs in this training schedule and I embarked this morning in the bright sunny cold to run 6 miles. I went 6 miles, but it didn't feel like much of a run. I stopped often to clear the fog out of my sunglasses, readjust my hat, resuscitate my iPod that was failing in the cold, blow my nose, wipe the wind-induced tears from my eyes, etc etc. I felt like a mess and running was
Thursday: 5 miles
Saturday: 3 miles
Sunday: 6 miles
The Class
The Marathon 101 class that I've been imagining as the vehicle to success in running this race finally started this week and will meet every Wednesday until race day - 18 weeks from now. I had hoped to be running 5 miles comfortably before the first class, but I was closer to 3.5-4. I was exceedingly pleased with myself for running 4 miles in 44 minutes the day before the first class - even more so to realize that the schedule that would become my bible called on me to run only 3 miles that day.
My fellow classmates are full of nervous, hopeful energy for what we're attempting. Many of them have incredibly somber, heavy reasons for wanting to take this on and I'm left feeling a bit... silly? Lacking purpose? Up until the first class I felt optimistic, excited and aware that this would be incredibly hard - particularly for someone like me with little experience as a runner. That night I went to bed feeling much more hesitant. My classmates' seriousness and experience, coupled with a close examination of the training schedule (12 miles runs, 16 mile runs, 20 miles? seriously?!), edged my anticipation with doubt.
The First Training Runs
The next morning, per the schedule, I ran 5 miles -- in just under an hour! At some point my gym will call me out for flagrantly violating the time limits on the treadmill. I went to work feeling tired and headachy, and questioning the wisdom of wearing really cute high-heeled shoes.
I expected Saturday's 3-mile run to go pretty easily. I managed it in 31 minutes but I didn't feel as solid as I had earlier in the week. Sunday is the day of long runs in this training schedule and I embarked this morning in the bright sunny cold to run 6 miles. I went 6 miles, but it didn't feel like much of a run. I stopped often to clear the fog out of my sunglasses, readjust my hat, resuscitate my iPod that was failing in the cold, blow my nose, wipe the wind-induced tears from my eyes, etc etc. I felt like a mess and running was
Why am I running a marthon anyway?
I did not like running in the first 30 years of my life. In playing sports, the requisite lap around the field before practice killed me; it was no coincidence I needed to tie my shoelaces or tape a joint that wasn't injured while the rest of the team took off for the 1/4 mile jog I resented so much.
So it's unexpected that in my 31st year I would sign up to run a marathon. I'm not sure what possessed me other than the somewhat capricious daydream that it would be so cool to finish a marathon. Last spring I ran in a relay race and my 5 mile leg would far exceed any distance I had ever run. Worse still, on race day our team botched the transitions and I ended running 6.5 miles. But to amazement, I did it! It nearly an hour and half and I threw up that afternoon, but still - the sense of accomplishment!
This fall when marathon registration opened I wanted to get into the half-marathon event. This proved more complicated than I expected and I was warned only half of the people wanting a half-marathon bib actually get one. And here's where the power of persuasion altered my course: the very friendly, convincing and brimming-with-certitude woman at the marathon office talked me into signing up for the full race.
The clincher was a class offered for first-time marathoners. I signed up immediately and spent the following days and weeks excited for the path I'd chosen. I started running at the gym more regularly, which is to say I actually went occasionally instead of thinking about and finding a reason not to. At this point, I could run 2 miles in at a 10-12 mile pace. I found this remarkable a point of pride because only a few earlier I was begging the digital display on the treadmill to tick off each 100th of a mile.
The class was set to start in January, giving me a couple of months to make progress on my own. I was on my way.
So it's unexpected that in my 31st year I would sign up to run a marathon. I'm not sure what possessed me other than the somewhat capricious daydream that it would be so cool to finish a marathon. Last spring I ran in a relay race and my 5 mile leg would far exceed any distance I had ever run. Worse still, on race day our team botched the transitions and I ended running 6.5 miles. But to amazement, I did it! It nearly an hour and half and I threw up that afternoon, but still - the sense of accomplishment!
This fall when marathon registration opened I wanted to get into the half-marathon event. This proved more complicated than I expected and I was warned only half of the people wanting a half-marathon bib actually get one. And here's where the power of persuasion altered my course: the very friendly, convincing and brimming-with-certitude woman at the marathon office talked me into signing up for the full race.
The clincher was a class offered for first-time marathoners. I signed up immediately and spent the following days and weeks excited for the path I'd chosen. I started running at the gym more regularly, which is to say I actually went occasionally instead of thinking about and finding a reason not to. At this point, I could run 2 miles in at a 10-12 mile pace. I found this remarkable a point of pride because only a few earlier I was begging the digital display on the treadmill to tick off each 100th of a mile.
The class was set to start in January, giving me a couple of months to make progress on my own. I was on my way.
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