This post has nothing to do with touching my toes or Downward Dog. I do neither particularly well, and although that kind of flexibility is also on my to-do list, the flexibility to which I refer today is of a more global variety.
Today was supposed to be my first official 20 miler of the Boston cycle (I did 19.5 last week, but it wasn't official). Last night, however, Burlington got 9 inches of heavy, wet snow and because it's a weekend, the sidewalks haven't received much attention. To top it off, I have a chemistry and biology exam on Wednesday and a practice MCAT next Sunday, plus my regular 40 hour work week staring me in the face. So, I didn't do 20 miles today. I didn't even do 10. I slogged for an hour tonight between practice sets and returned looking like a human slush puppy. But I got out there.
Life or not, Boston is coming. Long runs are vital. But so is sanity. I'm a runner but I'm also a researcher, a student, a daughter and a sister. So when weeks like this crop up, I start bargaining with myself. If all else fails, I try for at least an hour of running a day. If the wheels really come off the bus, I sneak out for 30 minutes. On really bad days, I settle for ten minutes and some crunches. But those days are rare. Years of experience have taught me that running makes me a better/kinder/more focused researcher/student/daughter/sister. As such, I can rationalize 30 minutes of running taken from all my other responsibilities.
How flexible are you? What do you do to figure out how to balance running, the demands of the marathon and the inevitable life monster that disrupts even the more organized of people?
Run On.
~S
Showing posts with label lessons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lessons. Show all posts
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Friday, November 5, 2010
Patience, Grasshopper
It has been a really great couple weeks of running. My miles are building, my leg has behaved and I can picture myself toeing the line at Boston for more than just a qualifying 3:40. Tomorrow, I will do my first speed workout post-surgery, with 4 miles at a 7:30 pace. It's funny to think that my pace will be slower than the pace at which I ran my last marathon. My test will not be whether I can run that fast, but whether I can be patient enough to let a 7:30 be enough.
Patience has never been a virtue. My mom recently retold the story of me going to sleep away camp a full year before I was technically eligible. Somehow, I convinced the camp to let me attend, despite being 7 when I needed to be 8. In fact, I came into the world impatiently, arriving a full two months before I was due. That's why it is a bit of a surprise to me (and to my loved ones, I'm sure), that I've been patient with my recovery. When I went into surgery, I expected to be running in 6 weeks, training hard by the end of the summer. Instead, it's November. As I start to feel strong, I find myself pushing too hard in workouts and tacking on extra miles. My brain knows that this is the easiest way to end up on the injured reserve, but my competitive side wants to make up for all the lost time.
Patience in the context of a marathon is an interesting thing. Those who are successful in the marathon must have at least some level of it, as the distance punishes the hare and rewards the tortoise. Perhaps the strongest warning we offer to novice marathoners is that "there are no shortcuts." Why, then, is it so hard to remember this for myself? When I run with friends or give advice to new runners, I always caution against too much too soon, about taking easy runs easy. It seems that with most advice, it's easy to dole it out, but not as easy to observe.
As I wind on down the road this weekend, I'll be working on waking up my fast twitch muscles again, but also on practicing patience. It's a long road to Boston.
Patience has never been a virtue. My mom recently retold the story of me going to sleep away camp a full year before I was technically eligible. Somehow, I convinced the camp to let me attend, despite being 7 when I needed to be 8. In fact, I came into the world impatiently, arriving a full two months before I was due. That's why it is a bit of a surprise to me (and to my loved ones, I'm sure), that I've been patient with my recovery. When I went into surgery, I expected to be running in 6 weeks, training hard by the end of the summer. Instead, it's November. As I start to feel strong, I find myself pushing too hard in workouts and tacking on extra miles. My brain knows that this is the easiest way to end up on the injured reserve, but my competitive side wants to make up for all the lost time.
Patience in the context of a marathon is an interesting thing. Those who are successful in the marathon must have at least some level of it, as the distance punishes the hare and rewards the tortoise. Perhaps the strongest warning we offer to novice marathoners is that "there are no shortcuts." Why, then, is it so hard to remember this for myself? When I run with friends or give advice to new runners, I always caution against too much too soon, about taking easy runs easy. It seems that with most advice, it's easy to dole it out, but not as easy to observe.
As I wind on down the road this weekend, I'll be working on waking up my fast twitch muscles again, but also on practicing patience. It's a long road to Boston.
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