Oh, wretched weather!

The goal for this day was to run to six miles. When you on this side of six miles -- the side where you haven't run all winter, where three miles is just slightly uncomfortable, where you have to convince yourself a la Barack Obama that "Yes You Can!" -- you fight the urge to not run, to give in, to find a good reason to put it off.

I struggled only mildly with those feelings most of the morning, because really I knew that I would do the run before the day was over, I just needed to feel the moment was right before I would head out the door. I also needed to feel that the rigor mortis in my legs due to my first attempt at strength training the day before might loosen up a bit. (I worked with a deceptively nice and encouraging trainer named Michele who didn't warn that I was be a cripple the morning after working with her for a mere 45 minutes.)

Back to my intuitive decision-making process about when to run: my intuition stinks. The sunny/overcast morning passed while I dawdled and delayed, and by midday the sputters of rain turned to full downpour. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. Why did I procrastinate? I waited for the torrents to ease up and then forced myself out the door. I ran three miles to the ferry dock on the opposite side of the island, took a long stretch break and examined some informative tourist brochures, then ran back.

As always, ran is no bother once you're out running, it just makes you not want to start. Similarly, when you are that side of six miles -- when you can look at the "6" on your training calendar and not feel doubt and dread -- you feel pretty darn good.

It's a do over!

Let's just start by acknowledging that I fully abandoned training for the 2009 Vermont City Marathon in February. I got off to a slow start in January and by late February I lost too much time to back in the groove. I tried to assuage the slacker-schlub feelings by registering for -- and then not running -- several shorter races, which reinforced the slovenly feeling of sinking into my comfy couch, never to get up and exercise again.

Around that time I was reading a lot of Runner's World with a desperate m.o. of “think it, do it.” In their annual list of must-do marathons, I noticed the Marathon de Montreal among their list of top choices, and I registered immediately. Boo-yah, time to get off the couch!

I’ve hired a trainer to map out a plan and keep me in line. I bought a new pair of Saucony’s (sparkly white and light blue, very nice). I went to the grocery store to buy fruits and vegetables. I dug out my heart rate monitor from the back of my closet. I’ve done pretty much everything one can do to train, short of…running.

So, I’m giving the recent failed attempts at training the old Etch-A-Sketch full erase and starting over. Today, May 11, marks Week 1, Day 1 and I’m heading out to run 3 miles.

You too can a run a marathon in just 15 weeks!

The traditional 18-week training plan was written, printed, posted at home and at work, and ready to be enacted. And then it withered and died when the cold that lingered for the first half of January became bronchitis right around the end of what would have been Week 1. (For the record, I did 2 of my runs that week.)

Week 2 passed with a massively stuffed up head and huge volumes of Kleenex (with lotion, my favorite kind, and one accidental foray into Kleenex scented with Vicks Vapo-Rub). Week 3 was spent coughing up phlegm, sucking down Robitussin and trusting in the powers of Azithromycin.

And on the bright side, I can say that this bought of illness is much better timed than than the last one. I got bronchitis in late September, in the weeks right before the Chicago Marathon. This time, I got it out of the way early. Nice planning!


Have you heard that Week 4 is the new Week 1?
The new training plan cuts out one of the three longest runs (I planned one 18-mile run and three 20s, now down to two 20s), and erases two of the weeks I had planned to take it easy. The only fudge room left in the schedule is the three-week taper, which could be shortened to two weeks if something gets off track along the way.

I ran a few miles in the cold, windy Las Vegas desert on Monday. I ran three miles on a treadmill inside a stuffy, hot gym on Tuesday. This afternoon, I'm planning three miles at Mission Trails, a canyon area in San Diego that I've wanted to check out for a awhile:

Mission Trails Regional Park