An Arrogant and Arbitrary Decision by Your Correspondent

I'm easily influenced by my emotions. However, I like to think that because I know this and am aware of it, it negates the condition. Yet this attitude only leads me to distort my instincts and decisions in over-reaction to my emotions, which has the ultimate effect of just making me wildly unpredictable and almost random in behavior. The resulting internal dialogue is something like this:

I feel like this counter-emotional construct can explain probably 62% of my decisions that don't appear logical or well thought-out on the surface. A decision I made this past Monday reflects this abstract process: I will run a sub-3:00 marathon someday.


As my good fortune (or poor foresight) would have it, I had a three hour class on the morning of Patriots Day, which meant I would miss the entirety of the Boston Marathon's professional race. Instead of enjoying the live video coverage, as I would have preferred, I had to settle for furious updates of my twitter feed to get race developments in 140 character snippets. It actually turned out to be a compelling way to follow the race, but in the same sense that one's grandfather discusses listening to Bobby Thompson's 'Shot Hears Around The World' on the family radio in his childhood living room.


Two stories emerged from that race that led to my poorly-developed idea. The first was the wire-to-wire excitement of the women's race. Kim Smith's surge from the beginning and aggressive style was a show of bravado and confidence that I could only envy. She couldn't have possibly been a favorite to win this race, and to call her aggression a 'surprise' is like calling the sunrise 'predictable'. The alluring part of it though was the Kim Smith didn't know she wasn't supposed to dominate the race until injury took her down. She may have crashed and burned, but she did so gloriously. Bon Jovi would have been proud. As if that weren't sufficient, Desi Davila grabbed the baton from Smith's unraveling body and made a courageous run at winning the whole thing; falling just two seconds shy in an incredible sprint at the end. Like Smith, Davila wasn't supposed to win, place, or show either. She has been in the shadow of two women named Kara and Shalane in the marathon circuit the last few years, but firmly asserted herself yesterday as third of the American Woman's Marathon triumvirate. This wasn't a placement that was given to her, but one she earned the hard way. Again, she jumped up from relative anonymity to grab everyone's attention, kind of like Tim Riggins in a Texas State Championship Game (or bar filled with single women).


Secondly, the men's race and systematic demolishing of several records*. Geoffrey Mutai's World Record (or 'fastest marathon ever'? I lose track) and Ryan Hall's American Record were both just awesome. They go to show that when one prepares and puts themselves in a good position enough times, eventually, everything will come together at once and create the race of a lifetime.


The common thread of all these storylines is runners who raised their standards beyond anyone's expectations. No one, maybe not even Kim Smith, expected her to carry the lead for as long as she did. Who foresaw Desi Davila finishing two seconds out of first? And if you bet on both the World and American records for the men to fall, then you probably have a gambling problem. The inner workings of my id and my ego are as much of a black box to me as they are to you, but I do know this: the excitement of yesterday's Boston Marathon went in, and a new resolve to run a three hour marathon came out.


My current PR (set back in January at the Rock & Roll Arizona Marathon) is 3:06, but that required every bit of guts and will power I had. Can I reasonably expect to shave six minutes off that time? Maybe, maybe not. Is it arrogant of me to think I can? Probably. Is this an overly-emotional reaction? Likely, but again, I like to think acknowledgement of this influence countervails it. So hopefully whatever goes into the subconscious decision making process that plants ideas like this in my mind has taken that into consideration. Thus, my decision (as if it really were just that simple to declare future achievements and results) is probably irrational, and certainly arrogant, but it's the one I've made.


26.2 miles. 3 hours. I'll figure out the rest later.


-John


*I'm going to pretend that the Boston Marathon course actually is eligible for record setting. Saying it's not is like saying the Green Monster in Fenway Park doesn't allow for 'real' home runs to be hit over it.

White River 50 Training Progress

I decided I want to start posting brief updates on my progress towards the White River 50 this July. I don't intend these to be just a banal list of my workouts and results, but more of a mental accounting of where I am in my confidence and psychological readiness. This is because while we can't all compare on distances and paces, but we can relate on the mental aspect of running and racing.

This morning I went out for an easy 8.5 after a good 16 yesterday. I had a critical thought and breakthrough around mile 8 - I was cruising over a rocky and muddy part of the Central Park Bridle Path, when I check my distance and time on the run. I was getting close to my target for the day, but realized I wasn't fazed or tired - at all. I felt as fresh after 8 miles and 60 minutes as I did after 1 mile (and if not, even fresher). I know I'm in a good place 3 months out of the race when 8 miles is a yawner, even after running 16 the day before.

Keep on movin',

-John

We Don't Take Shortcuts

I was out in Central Park for a long run the other morning. In the sport of distance running, adjectives that pertain to distances and speeds are all relative, so let me clarify. I’m training for a 50 mile race this summer, and have been very diligent in changing my definitions of short, medium, and long. These days, a short run (which I try not to ever do) is anything under about 9 or 10 miles. A medium distance run is something in the neighborhood of 10 to 15 miles, and a long run everything else.  For this particular long run, I set out the door aiming for anything above 20 miles.

On that particular morning, the crispness of the onset of Spring was in the air. There was just enough humidity and warmth in the air to draw out people in short sleeves, but still enough coolness to partner them with a fair amount of those in tights and jackets. As a runner, this is the perfect climate for a long run; cold enough to not be inhibiting in any way, but warm enough to enjoy being outside with the hope of better things to come that is embodied in the first few days of Spring. Crisp air, brightened sun, and a few bold flowers blooming early.

The patrons of Central Park shared my enthusiasm for the changing season, as they were out in full force. A busy day in Central Park is a unique setting; one where the tether of the real world has been severed in a peaceful scene of serenity, all the while being besieged by the largest and most vibrant metropolis in this hemisphere. It’s a fleeting escape from reality, but a functional one. Additionally, it’s the only piece of nature accessible by the millions of residents of Manhattan, and as such, the main loop around the park is more like a circulatory system of runners, walkers, and bikers than it is a running path.

It was into this atmosphere that I set out for my big run of the week. But getting to this point wasn’t a short path. Since my last long run just 6 days ago, I’d put in close to 55 miles of work. I’ve gotten to the point in my training plan where I really don’t want easy days anymore. When great painters were in their prime, I doubt they ever looked at any piece as just a time killer until their next great work. I don’t want to take any individual run for granted or not feel the strengthening burn that comes at the end of a difficult effort. So, as I set out on this particular long run, my legs were already burdened with the accumulated fatigue of a long series of hard working days.

As I progressed through my run with a methodical economy of movements, I felt the benefit of my months of training up to that day. Every time I stayed out on the trail for just an extra mile or 15 minutes, I was purposefully augmenting every muscle in my legs like steel hardening in the furnace. Now, 14-15-16 miles deep into a run, the task still felt as simple as ‘focus on your form, keep your good posture’. At this point, I felt I was a product of my own making (at least as far as my conditioning went).

It was then, around mile 16, that I made a spontaneous, yet critical decision. I approached a fork in the trail. Veer to the left, and I’d continue for another revolution around a 1.5 mile loop. I could do this loop a few more times then turn towards home and finish right around 20 miles and satisfy my goal. However, veer to the right, and I go down a southward spur of the trail that would take me much further from home, and commit me to many more miles. By taking this route, I’d be both accepting and subjecting myself to a hearty surplus of miles above my stated goal. I’m glad to say I veered to the right.

The instant before I chose my direction, I was apprehensive and lazy – I was content with the shorter route and coming in right at my distance goal. However, that would have been the easy way out. We, as runners, don’t take the easy way. By taking the longer route, I faced a larger obstacle, greater discomfort, and a more trying experience overall. When I finished it successfully (as we all almost always do with the right application of mental fortitude), I was a better runner for it.

We don’t take shortcuts. If we did, then why are we even running at all? That’s like cheating in solitaire – it’s pointless and self-defeating. Taking a shortcut while running is succumbing to your perceived limits, be they a 3 mile run around the neighborhood, which could have been turned into 3 and a half; or 20 milers that could be defining experiences in a training cycle with a simple and split second decision to go the long way. You save perhaps a few kilo-calories of energy and a couple of minutes, but the opportunity cost is a workout that exceeded anything you'd expected or thought possible.

Keep on movin',

-John