counting down to the half mary

Obviously, I've only blogged about my 'good' days running. I've had some bad days too. I've come home from tempo runs feeling like I would be sick, and I've had evenings after long runs where I didn't want to touch food - just give me 2 or 3 or 20 Powerades and I'll call that good.

Training was going pretty well the first 7 weeks. My long runs were increasing and my tempo runs were going well. I felt faster. Then, enter the vacations. One week in California meant minus one tempo run and a shorter long run. The next weekend was St George and Zions National Park. We spent that Saturday hiking in Zions, but I was again absent on my long run that week. My 10th week of training was last week and I knew I had to kick it up a notch. Make up for lost distance, you might say.

I tried my scheduled 7-mile tempo run on Thursday, but there was no tempo. Not only was I not able to amp up the speed, I was full 30 seconds slower than my usual pace. And I just wanted to fall face first on the floor when I got home. I thought, you gotta be kidding me. 7 miles? A lousy 7 miles? Barely half the distance of the race I've already paid for and I can't even survive a miserable 7 miles? Anyway, you can imagine. I was feeling pretty anxious. And I was gonna hit the 10-mile mark on Saturday.




That wretched experience also means that I have no explanation for why my 10-mile long run on Saturday went so well. Sure, I had a fried egg on toast beforehand, I stopped at a couple of drinking fountains along the route, and ran through a couple of sprinklers, but... does that really mean the difference between a difficult 7-miler and a breezy 10-miler? I'm not really sure. But my hope is somewhat restored in my ability to at least complete the half mary without dying on the finish line.


I had planned on trying to run the sucker in 2 hours, but I've made the profound observation that my half marathon training is an uncanny analogy to the road of life. You make a plan, you aim to challenge yourself, and you set out with positivity. Life happens, you take a vacation (be it physically or mentally or whatever), you meet a couple of hiccups, and your goals can get turned on their heads. I don't think it means you're a failure or a lazy, it just means you have to roll with life and stay positive and as Clint so philosophically assured me:

'Sometimes it's more than enough to just go the distance.'

(pictures of Zion National Park to come.)