Restarting the Engine

It's time to run.

This ranks as my best marathon recovery. Since the Eugene Marathon there's been no running whatsoever for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight and today makes it nine straight days. I told myself I'd go two weeks without lacing them up, but that was just a ploy to ensure I lasted at least one week. Mission accomplished, then some. And not only did I not run, I didn't do anything remotely strenuous. Every day I walked a bit—anywhere from a mile to four miles—and on all except one of the days I burned 200 to 400 calories spinning at low-resistance on the bike. I decided upon this intense effort at avoiding intensity based on my Berlin and CIM recoveries. Or, better put, non-recoveries. Berlin left me relatively unscathed and there were cross-country races and 10Ks fast approaching so I figured what the hell, go, man, go. And go I did, with fair results, but a vague, background sense of fatigue developed and carried through to CIM in early December. After that race, I felt like I'd been mugged by a fierce gang of very small people. Shins, calves, Achilles, plantar fascia … pretty much everything below the knee was achy. Come to think of it, I had an achy knee, too. Again, however, races lured me back out there too soon. Six weeks after CIM I ran the Cascade Half. A week later I ran the Vancouver Lake Half. Yeah, two hard half marathons within two months after my second marathon in three months—no wonder the Eugene training block was equal parts piling up miles and soothing pains and strains. A deep taper is what saved me, I think, and I felt surprisingly fresh on race day. It went pretty well. Except for the stupid blister thing I talked about earlier, it was dang fun. I was reminded that I love marathons.

So 10 days later, tomorrow, Wednesday, May 12, 2010, I'll run. Something short, mostly slow but maybe a few little burst here or there, all on the grass, under the promised sun. It'll be a new beginning. I love these new beginnings. I'm setting out to run another marathon, to make a go at three hours again, on the 4th of July. You heard me right. Less than two months from now! Look, I’m not getting any younger. I'm running New York in the fall for fun—no way I'd get three there—so when am I supposed to crank it up for a fast one? Next year? Get out. It's now or never. Not only am I creeping toward the half-century mark, which is hardly PR territory, I just don't have it in me to do a full 16-, 20- or 24-week program to get ready for a marathon. And actually, I think those programs, at this point, end up beating me up a bit more than is good for me. So the quick turnaround might, by objective analysis, be the best strategy. I've given myself a nice rest. There's a great base of fitness that can be summoned and, one hopes, nudged forward even more. I like running in warmer weather and even Portland at 6:30 a.m. on July 4th is bound to be warm by marathon-running standards. Flat course? Flat except for two hills, each a climb of about 50 feet. Yeah, it's flat.

Last thing to say is that I learned something at Eugene, or in the aftermath of Eugene, I guess. As I thought about my race, I realized that I hadn't pushed through the fatigue and distress. Not that I crumbled. I stayed steady. But I didn't fight. I didn't fight for sub-three. I conceded and began to think that 3:02 wouldn't be bad, or even 3:04, or anything at all under my previous best of 3:06:16. And I think that was partly because I didn't believe I could run sub-three. Without the belief that the effort might be rewarded why would I endure the pain? I said I was going to go for it, but I really wasn't ready to. I think I am now.

Eugene Marathon and Beyond

Bib Number: 537
Age: 47
Gender: M
Location: Portland, OR
Overall Place: 131/2333
Division Place: 16/170
Gender Place: 113/1252
Time: 3:05:07
Pace: 7:04

1- 6:49.2
2- 6:42.6
3- 6:53.6
4- 6:41.0
5- 6:58.8
6- 6:49.7
7- 6:46.8
8- 7:01.4
9- 7:02.9
10- 6:55.6
11- 6:57.4
12- 7:00.8
13- 6:53.6
14- 7:02.3
15- 7:00.5
16- 6:55.3
17- 6:57.1
18- 7:06.8
19- 7.15.5
20- 7:05.6
21- 7:09.1
22- 7:16.9
23- 7:24.4
24- 7:32.0
25- 7:32.9
26- 7:23.2
0.2*- 1:53

First half: 1:30:15
Second half: 1:34:52

Aching hips, tight, painful knees, sore heel and those two god-damned blisters, one on each foot right behind the big toes—those are the things that make me want to throw in the towel on chasing Spiridon. I drew just a shade over a minute closer to the Greek at yesterday's Eugene Marathon. Not much progress. A 3:05:07 is a PR for me and hell-yeah I'm proud of it. And the race in many ways was, as races tend to be, a total gas: a great adventure, a grand opera, an epic novel in my own mind. Yet I'm pissed off, too, because if I'd been thoughtful in my sock selection I would have worn a pair I know don't give me blisters. I've run wet 50-milers and avoided blisters. I'm not a blistering guy. Today, however, blisters cost me because I didn't make sure to wear the right socks. How lame is that? These are quarter-sized, ballooning blisters. Big mothers. They began to bother me around mile 10, became downright painful around mile 15, and over the last three or four miles prevented me from running freely. It sucked, because while I didn't have enough to break three hours—let me repeat, I was not going to break three hours yesterday—I did have more to give. I would have been a minute or two faster, which isn't meaningful as far as the Eugene result goes: the race was there, on the course, from start to finish, no addenda, explanations or excuses. But that stupidly lost time matters as I ponder whether to make a go at three hours again. There's a part of me—the aching part—that wants to think I've reached my limit, pushed it as far as I can go. I see these folk who were born in Reagan's second term—when college was already in my rear-view mirror—scampering by and think: I'm too old for this, too old and beat up. But. But, but, but. I know I had 3:03 fitness yesterday. Again, that doesn't mean I get to pretend I ran a 3:03. It is enough, however, to tempt me into thinking I can get under three hours, which, by the way, I'm counting as catching Spiridon, even though it really isn't. Sorry, Spiro. We're all kicking the Greeks these days.

*They obviously added some distance onto that post-Mile-26 marker stretch to make the course certified. I ran that part hard, probably close to 6:00/mile pace, so 0.2 miles would have taken me 1:20-1:30.

Eugene Marathon Result: 3:05:07

More tomorrow.