I'm Just Not Ready.

I wrote this post 2 weeks ago about making the decision to run the Leadville 100; a notoriously difficult and trying race across the mountains of Colorado:

I'm going to run the Leadville Trail 100, and I'm going to do it because I can.I really don't know how to relax and enjoy myself. This is a problem I've either developed or just become aware of in the last few years, but it's not going away. I've learned that I must do something productive at all times, no matter what. Even now, I've finished all my obligations for the day, but still feel the compulsion to put my thoughts to paper so my readers (Hi Mom!) can understand why I am the dumb way I am. Sometimes my definition of 'productive' can be skewed, which creates the veneer of truancy. However, I'm always making measurable progress towards one of my personal goals. For example, it may LOOK like I'm playing Scrabble with my brother on my iPhone, but really, I'm effecting a strategy for complete psychological subjugation over him. 

Simply put, I feel not doing anything is a waste. It's a waste of time, a waste of opportunities to contribute to my community, and a waste of potential. Living a life in line with the status quo is a banal existence and abhorrent thought to me. It's wasting a life. Taking on challenges that haven't been fully conquered yet is the essence of excitement and progress. It's exploration of the character. This is the path to achievement, and achievements are really the only thing that distinguishes one person from the next. I can't learn anything about myself by staying in place and doing what virtually every other person in my place has done before. That's the way to get lost in the masses and forget that it's OK to be different. I see two choices: my achievements can reflect  99% of the population, or I can apply myself to carve a truly unique path and one that may inspire others to do the same. 

I'm lucky for several reasons. I'm alive; I'm healthy; I've never been wronged by a woman too badly; and I own the complete series of The Wire on DVD. With all that going for me, I'm free to push my perceived limits to find out where the real ones exist. Only when I know those boundaries will I be content to stop exploring and allow myself to relax a little bit. Maybe. 

That's why I'm running the Leadville 100. It's a challenge in a stratosphere somewhere between the standard commercial aviation altitude and the orbit of Saturn. Taking on that challenge will show me what kind of character I have. If I get myself to the starting line, then one of two things will happen: I will crash and burn in a splendorous flame of poor judgment and dehydration, or I'll finish the damn thing. Whether the end of the race for me comes at mile 50, 75, or 100; I'll find comfort in that knowledge and be able to concretely answer the 'How far could I..." question. Only when I know my limits can I live within them comfortably. 

The only thing more regrettable than trying and failing is failing to try.

I wrote this post about having the guts to run one of the toughest 100 mile races on the circuit in my debut at the distance, but fortunately, I procrastinated in publishing it. This turned out to be a very good thing. 

Two events happened almost immediately after I wrote this post and felt so certain about running Leadville. First, I visited the Leadville website to register. Second, I went on a ski trip to Colorado. Each of these moves taught me something about myself and the decision I thought I'd made. 

When I went online to register and become an official entrant in the 2011 contest, I felt this should just be a formality in the process of taking on the requisite burden and responsibility of a Leadville competitor. The hardest commitments would come in the form of piling on my mileage day after day, after day. Yet, this step did have tangible and symbolic significance in that it required immediate payment of a non-refundable $300 entry fee, and made official what I had previously only committed to with thoughts and "wouldn't it be great if I...." ambitions. However, when I went through the ostensibly insignificant process of actually submitting my regristration and signalling my intent to train and run the race with an actual transfer of wealth from my savings to the Leadville operating funds, I hit an obstacle that felt more insurmountable than the 12,000' peak of Hope Pass that I'd have to climb twice in the race. I couldn't make myself click the submit button to finish registration. With the addition of my name to the list of entrants and the rush of money out of my checking checking, I realized I was taking on a commitment that evoked more consternation than excitement. No matter how much I tried to focus on the positive, I could only think about the daily grind of training, followed by anxiety during taper and the final hours before the actual race. I was throwing myself headfirst into the ultimate of  unknowns, and if I felt so much trepidation about the race 6 months before it actually happened, then how would I feel come June, July, and August? I sat motionless for what seemed like an hour (but in reality was probably only a few minutes) with my right index finger suspended over the left mouse button. The arrow hovered dangerously over "Submit". A deer in headlights would have more commitment and resolve than I had at that moment. In the end, I just couldn't make myself complete the registration process.


The second fortuitous and timely event was a previously planned ski trip to Colorado. The skiing was fun and the trip was great, but the only thing that really mattered from that trip was the experience I had trying to run at 8800' in elevation (which would be about the lowest point on the Leadville course). 5 miles was about my limit, and even then only at a conservative pace. I started feeling stronger as the trip wore on and I adjusted to the thin air, but the atmosphere had made its point to me: I had grossly underestimated the physical challenge of Leadville's signature attribute: altitude.


These two lessons gave me the evidence I needed to be comfortable with a disappointing admission: I am not ready physically or mentally for this race. Regardless of how much I want to be and how hard I prepare for it, my body and my mind haven't been through enough testing and adversity to build the requisite confidence to tackle the 100 miles and thousands of feet of climbing in Leadville. This was a tough pill to take, but my experiences over the past 2 weeks have given me the perspective to be able to finally chew it and swallow.


I'm not saying I will never run a 100 miler, and I'm not saying I don't still believe everything I wrote two weeks ago about wanting to run Leadville. I just realize that this year is not the right time; just like trying to run the race tomorrow would not be the right time either: it's too soon and I'm not ready.


Thus, I've decided to run the White River 50 on July 30 instead. Stay tuned and I'll keep you posted through this blog on how my preparations go.


Thanks for sticking with this post all the way through. Now, here's you're reward: a dog being confused by an iPhone.

-John

The Boston Marathon Tea Party

Let me start by acknowledging that I am a member of the aggrieved party here. My dream was to run the Boston Marathon, and I spent the last 4 months of 2010 in dedicated and rigorous training with the solitary goal of breaking 3:10 (my age group's standard). On January 16 of this year, I raced with everything I had to post a 3:06:23 at the Rock & Roll Arizona Marathon to (seemingly) achieve my dream of a chance to run the Boston Marathon. That said, let me get to my main point:

I've started a petition to get the B.A.A. to undo their rash changes to the 2012 registration system. Please sign it after reading this post to support our cause.

The Boston Marathon is a goal and dream for most runners, but the Boston Athletic Association has made changes to effectively rip that rightfully earned dream away from a large class of runners: those already qualified for the 2012 race. Under the new rules for the 2012 race, faster runners will get the first opportunity to register, likely leaving the remaining qualifiers out in the cold. For more details, see the B.A.A.'s press release describing the changes here.

I actually think the system is a good one. It is consistent with what makes the Boston Marathon so special: it's a selective race only for the fastest marathoners. With the current mismatch in supply and demand for spots in the race, the B.A.A. felt something had to be done. The 2011 race sold out in a scant 8 hours, forcing recent qualifiers (after November 2010) to wait until the 2012 race.

Because the rules allow qualifying times to have a 2 year 'shelf life', the population of runners qualifying for and anticipating a spot in the 2012 race has already started to grow. Thousands of runners have put themselves through training and toed the line at perhaps the most important race of their careers with a single qualifying standard in mind (the standard issued by the B.A.A. for their age group). This group of runners ran their races thinking they knew the rules: just run the appropriate time, then be responsible enough to register online within a few hours of registration opening. The second objective is relatively easy, especially for disciplined runners accustomed to logging 10 miles before sunrise. However, the first obejctive is a different matter. This system was fair because of it's certainty. Running the qualifying time is the hard part, and there shouldn't be crossed fingers and wishing in the interregnum until registration opens.

Now, the rules are different. Not all qualifying times are created equal. Chances are that no spots will be left for the slowest qualifiers, and if there are spots left, they will be fought for like a loaf of bread in Bolshevik Russia.  Under normal circumstances, or races for which qualifying hasn't begun (i.e. the 2013 Boston Marathon), this is actually a mostly fair system. However, trying to rush the changes and implement this policy flatly across all divisions has some serious problems and creates legitimate victims. Here are the main flaws:

Qualifying for the 2012 race has already begun under the old rules
Many who thought they had already put themselves on equal ground with all other qualifiers for the 2012 race now find themselves relegated to fighting for the leftovers of other, faster qualifiers. For example, I qualified a month ago with a 3:06. If I had known at the time that 3:06 would be subordinated to 3:05, you can be certain I would have trained and raced differently. Implementing the new system for the 2012 race is like telling a High School Senior that his SAT score is good enough for admission to his dream school, only to raise the standard when he shows up to orientation.

The graduated registration standards aren't applied evenly
The new system differentiates runners at 20, 10, and 5 minutes under qualifying standards. However, 20 minutes under the Men's 18-34 standard (3 hours 10 minutes) is quite different from the 5+ hours many Women's age groups get, or even the 3 hours 40 minutes that Women 18-34 get. in other words, 18-34 Men have to run 10.5% faster than their qualifying time to get in the earliest registration period, while 70-74 women only have to beat their standard by 6.7%. Over 26.2 miles, this is a big difference. This will result in a field skewed more towards older women than other age groups, as proportionately more of them will have the first chance to register.

The changes may not even be necessary
Another part of the announcement said race fees will rise. This should help alleviate the supply/demand imbalance. Additionally, the 8 hour sell-out has only happened once. What's to say the rush to register for the 2011 race wasn't an aberration? Every trend has its peak; how do we know Boston Marathon participation hasn't reached its peak?

I'm not one to identify flaws in a system without proposing some ideas to compete or at least start a discussion moving towards improvement. Here are some thoughts to start the brainstorming:

Limit spots available in each registration period
If there will be 4 different times people can register, cap the first 3 windows (September 12, 14, & 16) at 5,000 runners on a first-come-first-serve basis, thus guaranteeing at least 7,000 spots to all qualifiers. This way, everyone who thought they did all they had to do to get to Boston will at least have a chance to register.

Raise the fees evenly
Marathon runners are well recognized for their disposable income. Raise the fees by an even amount for all qualifiers to get a sense for the elasticity of demand, and set the fees so demand matches the fixed supply. If someone really wants to run Boston, they can forego one new running shirt a year to pay the higher price.

Raise the fees unevenly
If you're going to treat some qualifiers inequitably, fine, but do it for something that can still be controlled. Charge slower qualifiers more. If I just missed the sub-5 minute cutoff a month ago, I can't go back in time and change the way I trained. However, I can accept that it will cost me a little more to register. That I can handle.

Do nothing
As I noted earlier, one year of immense demand doesn't make a trend. The 2012 race may sell out just as fast, but it also might not. Perhaps with the rebounding economy, people have less time to train and qualify this year than they did last year.

I want to reenforce that I fully understand and support the B.A.A.'s mission of protecting the Boston Marathon for only the fastest. In that light, I have no qualms with the faster qualifying times for the 2013 race. However, by trying to make rushed changes to the 2012 race, they are creating a class of victims that did everything right, only to have the rules changed on them after they could do anything to respond. This is unfair and unjust.

If you agree, please sign my petition urging the B.A.A. to reconsider.

-John

Sharpening My Axe

“Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe.”

- Abraham Lincoln

I'm starting a new phase of my running career and though my axe is still pretty dull, I'd say I'm learning how to work the grinder pretty well. Right now, my only goal is to hit high weekly volumes, and I'm adjusting to the requisite lifestyle and work load nicely. 2 weeks ago, I logged 80 miles (no rest days), and backed that up with 70 miles last week (one rest day). I felt pretty haggard after the first week, but my body is developing resiliency and becoming more accustomed to the daily burden of 10 to 15 miles.

My mental acceptance of this new lifestyle is the most important part. I go out every morning for my "AM 9" - a standard run of about 9 miles or 90 minutes. I've tried to make this as much a part of my morning routine as drinking coffee and watching Saved By The Bell on TBS. It's unavoidable; it's just what I do. As soon as I finish my morning run, I try to start focusing on my afternoon run (if I feel like I have extra miles in my legs). Everything else is just waiting and resting for my next workout.

I'm still a long way away from doing any chopping, I feel great about getting my axe ready.