Ideally this final pre-Eugene bout of unmitigated masochism known as Yasso 800s would have happened earlier in the week, giving me a tad more recovery time. But I think I'll be OK. Ninety minutes later I feel fine.
Not that they didn't hurt like the dickens. You know how it is. Midway through the fourth in the planned set of 10 and you're coming up with rationalizations for trimming the workout to eight reps, or maybe six. Hell, five might do. You ponder, you mull, you flirt with the idea. That's OK. It's a nice distraction. Like imagining cheating on your spouse, it's the kind of very private contemplation you engage in to get you through some painful times, but you'd never actually do it. You're just not that kind of person. You do the whole workout.
Below are my Yasso times for August 2009, before Berlin, where I ran 3:09:52; for February this year; and for today, with the difference between the pre-Berlin splits and today's splits noted.
Aug 09 / Feb 10 / April 10
3:00 / 2:58 / 2:51 -9
2:50 / 2:59 / 2:47 -3
2:56 / 2:53 / 2:47 -9
2:57 / 2:53 / 2:48 -9
2:56 / 2:52 / 2:50 -6
2:57 / 2:54 / 2:49 -8
2:55 / 2:52 / 2:53 -2
2:55 / 2:54 / 2:53 -2
2:56 / 2:54 / 2:53 -3
2:57 / 2:53 / 2:51 -6
So my average split before Berlin was 2:56 and my average split today was 2:50. That's good, but ... well, I'm just going to leave it at that for now.
Bonus Content: Thoughtful Perspectives on Yassos:
Why they're meaningful vs. why they're not.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Tapering
You can't rest too much. That's my general theory on the taper, though it does come with a caveat. Or, at least, an assumption: that you've been training your ass off for months. And I more or less have, capped last week with my biggest seven-day mileage ever, a lovely 80. There were two 18-milers, a 12, two 10s, a seven and a five. Damn. That's almost real-runner territory. The last run of the week, one of those 18s, was the best. Basically it was broken into three parts, and I went progressively faster, from 8:10 to 7:40 to 7:10 per mile. This was on the mucky, spongy Glendoveer path, which is nice and soft and joint-saving but sucks at least 15 or 20 seconds out of every mile. So those were solid paces for a longish run and better yet, I felt good. This thing tweaked momentarily and that thing served brief notice. But there's always going to be this thing or that thing, at least for me. With increased mileage I've been walking the scary-thin injury line the last month, but I appear not to have fallen into utter disrepair (that close cousin of utter despair).
I'm going very lightly this week. That's in my taper theory, too: the third-to-last week before the marathon is the single best week to get deep rest. Don't wait until it's too late! Deep rest now, then ratchet things up a bit in the second-to-last week in order not to lose fitness, then some short, up-tempo stuff in the days before the race to keep rust from accumulating…. Hey, it's worked for me. I won't tell you I'm a great marathoner, but I will tell you I've always met or exceeded expectations.
I'm going very lightly this week. That's in my taper theory, too: the third-to-last week before the marathon is the single best week to get deep rest. Don't wait until it's too late! Deep rest now, then ratchet things up a bit in the second-to-last week in order not to lose fitness, then some short, up-tempo stuff in the days before the race to keep rust from accumulating…. Hey, it's worked for me. I won't tell you I'm a great marathoner, but I will tell you I've always met or exceeded expectations.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Cut Short
That was ugly. At 16 miles I started to feel cruddy and by 18 was certain I was just a few steps from going off the cliff down into Bonk Canyon. So I stopped running. I walked the two miles home from there. No 20. Instead, 18 miles, the first eight @ 7:45 and the last 10 at 7:30. The only other thing to say is I'm an idiot; once again I did not respect the necessity of fueling a long run. At eight miles I had most of a gel (call it 75 calories) and half a serving of Accelerade (50 calories). Yeah, that's going to do it on a (planned) 20-miler, 125 calories and 6 oz. of water! The thing is, my stomach tolerates eating and drinking well on a run. There's no reason not to feed the fire. It's just laziness and bad planning. It's just stupid.
All that said: the last two miles were no walk of shame. My legs appreciated the opportunity to unwind. My whole body relaxed. My mind, too, eventually. I went around and around about the failure that the run was; about the training I've done for Eugene and how it compared with other races; about the aches and pains; about the unlucky truth that three hours don't last just a little bit longer; and about the gray Oregon sky, that fucking gray Oregon sky. For a moment I had myself believing that if it were blue, everything would have been OK. The plan, the pain, the passage of time. The sky. TS Eliot said, "April is the cruelest month" (as Art Spander readers well know), no doubt as he was training for a May marathon. But in the end he wrote, "Shanti shanti shanti."
All that said: the last two miles were no walk of shame. My legs appreciated the opportunity to unwind. My whole body relaxed. My mind, too, eventually. I went around and around about the failure that the run was; about the training I've done for Eugene and how it compared with other races; about the aches and pains; about the unlucky truth that three hours don't last just a little bit longer; and about the gray Oregon sky, that fucking gray Oregon sky. For a moment I had myself believing that if it were blue, everything would have been OK. The plan, the pain, the passage of time. The sky. TS Eliot said, "April is the cruelest month" (as Art Spander readers well know), no doubt as he was training for a May marathon. But in the end he wrote, "Shanti shanti shanti."
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