Fumbling for the Switch

I feel myself giving up on this dream. Imagining the finish, the women celebrating OTQs, I am picturing other women, not myself. I am accepting how to get over the fact that I won’t make it. Trying to come up with other goals that are still worth fighting for.

This is self-preservation. My mind trying to have an admittedly healthier attitude to my goals. I know that they don’t matter, that my family loves me no matter what, that my self-worth should not be based on running an arbitrary time within an arbitrary window. That factors like weather and sicknesses will always be out of my control. 

In the words of Laura Green: no one cares. Whether I make it or miss it by many miles, no one cares. 

But I care. 

I do this for me. Really and truly me alone. I know it’s a selfish habit and in times of guilt I try to rationalize it (it makes me healthier, happier, more energized, a better mom, etc. etc.) but truly I do this because I love it. Because I want to see how fast I can be. Because I love that “holy shit I can’t believe I just did that” finish line moment. Because I want to believe in myself again. Because it does add to my self-worth and makes me feel good about myself. Because I love the training, even when it’s not going as well as I like. I love starting my Wednesday with a “medium" long run (what any rational person would call a long run) and feeling slightly exhausted but also fulfilled all day long. 

There are days, months, years where it breaks my heart. The heartbreaks have been racking up the past couple years. I’m desperate to hang on to this goal because I don’t want to admit my best days may be behind me, that I’ll never get to the level I was once at, that I’ll never line up at a Trials again. Age catches up to all of us eventually, I don’t want to believe it’s already caught me. But it’s been five years of struggle. (Admittedly, having a baby took more than 2 of those years.) And annoyingly enough, I don’t appear to be getting any younger. 

Still, I love it. I care about it an unhealthy amount, I know that. But I need to care, or I’ll give up. 

There’s a switch that needs to be flipped on race day and hard work out days. You have to think it’s super important in the moment or you’ll give up. The marathon is so grueling that there will be a moment where it’s overwhelming, it’s too much, you want to give up, give in, not care. Your mind is begging you to slow, even slowing your body down against your will. You need to fight back, you need to care about it like it’s everything in that moment. As ridiculous as it sounds, it needs to seem like life or death to push yourself to new depths. You need that adrenaline, that belief, that unreal power that allows someone to lift a car off a child. Your brain will seize on any crack in your armor, any speck of “this doesn’t matter.” It will compromise, give in, and give up. 

But then you cross the line, stop the watch, end the workout, and it needs to not matter anymore. Flip the switch back. Running doesn’t matter in the real world. Leading into big workouts and race day, the switch needs to be on “unimportant” or the anxiety and pressure will be overwhelming. Moreover, the switch probably needs to stay like that—nice and chill and comfortable—until mile 15 or 18 or so, until that moment of reckoning, or you’ll be too stressed to run relaxed. 

But… 

HOW?! How to flip the switch at the right moment? How to not care that much, to let it go, until that last moment? And how to run fast from the beginning—nice and chill and relaxed, but also fast—if you’re trying not to care? This last bit is the struggle I’m having in my workouts. Trying to relax and take it mile by mile and let the fast pace come to me… but when it doesn’t, and the times slip, how to stay engaged and fighting? While also relaxing so you’re not forcing it? I want to force it. It seems my only chance. But I know that’s not how this works.

Trying to channel this finish line fight...
even when the finish line isn't in sight.

If I put too much pressure on myself, I’m not likely to run well. But if I give up on my goals now, I’m not going to run well either. I wonder if my recent workouts going poorly is me giving up: too many years of struggle, too many doubts seeping in, too many excuses. My mind trying to preserve itself. 

The pressure I put on myself seems astronomical but it’s because I want it. I know no one else cares, I know it doesn’t matter. But it matters to me. I think I thrive under pressure: I need that do-or-die reason to fight. I can feel myself trying to let it go, starting to let it go, and maybe that is healthy. But the part of me that is still grasping on, knows I need to grab it with both hands and hang on like life depends on it. (Even though I know it doesn’t.) 

I need to believe or I don’t stand a chance. 

Training vs. Racing

Recently, I remembered a question Oiselle had posed to Twitter a while back: “Do you prefer training or racing?” (Turns out I misremembered it. It was actually whether you’d rather run, race, or recover. But no matter, my inaccurate memory got me thinking.) I responded racing, but what made me consider it recently was that I’m not sure that’s true. I think I prefer training. I realized this because the training for Pittsburgh is wrapping up and I’m kind of bummed about it.

I love racing, but I also love the rhythm of training. (Which is a good thing, considering racing is only a few hours and training is a few hours every day for months.) It may seem like a monotonous routine of getting up early, scarfing down oatmeal, running, stretching, and amassing a heck of a lot of stinky laundry. But I actually love it. (Well, except for the laundry.)

 

Would I rather be training...

Even on the most exhausting days, I rarely wish I could run less. I always wish I had the time or energy to do more (or a body that could handle it). So when the taper comes, and with it the reduced mileage and shorter workouts, I get sad that it will be months before I’m back in that rhythm again. The race is exciting of course, but before (and after, as I recover) I’ll miss the reflective time I spend pounding the pavement, the satisfaction of a tough workout completed, the fulfilling soreness of a high-mileage week.

And of course, with less time spent running, there’s more time to agonize: am I ready? Did I do enough while I could? (Which is something I grapple with Every. Single. Season.)

On Sunday I redid the workout from a few weeks ago and, disappointingly, it went basically the same, only slightly worse. I was upset for a multitude of reasons: that I had another shot and I failed, that I sat out the 10K for no reason, but of course mostly that I didn’t get the confidence boost I needed. I expected the workout to lift a weight off my shoulders, to give me evidence that I could really do this. And truthfully maybe the weight wouldn’t have been totally lifted, but only shifted slightly, eased a bit. Instead, the weight of doubt grew a little heavier. I wasn’t sure I could carry it around for another three weeks until the race.

This week @thepacinglife posted a quote: “If the problem you’re facing can be solved with action, you don’t have a problem.” If my problem if that I want to run an Olympic Trials Qualifying time, then I know exactly what action I need to take and in three weeks I have the opportunity to take it. (Emphasizing that because we should be grateful when we have these opportunities.) The issue for me seems to be that it’s three weeks before I can take that action. I have to wait to see if I will. Like many eager, type A runners, I’d rather still be doing something that feels like I’m progressing/working towards it, still putting that metaphorical hay in that barn.

Instead all I can do these next weeks is wonder about it. I’m working on my mental game, reminding myself of all the other evidence I have from the rest of my training and racing this season. And really that is the action that I need to take now: to let my body rest while my brain wraps around the task ahead.

Still, I’d rather be working on my physical than mental game. I’d rather be training than wondering.

... or racing?
[Photo Credit: RunWashington]

But when someone asks why I run, why I put so much effort into training, I always say it’s to race. My motivation comes from trying to see what I’m capable of. I won’t know until race day and the excitement of the challenge is in the not knowing. And in putting all that hard work—physical and mental—on the line and finding out.

I guess what it really comes down to is, like many runners, I love training and I love racing.

I just hate tapering.

Which do you prefer: training or racing?

Dream big,

Teal

The Little Extras

Professional runners often talk about the little extras: it’s not just the miles and workouts that make the difference on race day; it’s all the other little things done throughout the day that keep them healthy and able to run those miles and nail those workouts.

The problem, of course, is that we’re freaking busy. We’re not pros, so we don’t have time to sit in NormaTec boots, take afternoon naps, or spend hours lifting. It takes enough time just to get the running done and so the little things often get skipped.

Over the years I’ve worked hard (sometimes successfully, sometimes struggling) to focus on the non-running extras. Having Baby obviously threw that all for a loop and I’ve had to rededicate myself and find new ways to fit it all in. I still don’t have it totally figured out and things get skipped here and there, but below are some of the tips and tricks that are helping me at the moment. (Anything to add? Do so in the comments below!)

Strength/core/drills

On Sunday nights, I look at my training plan for the week and figure out what days make sense (workout-wise/time-wise/Baby-wise) for strength, core work, and drills. (Each week, I aim for two strength sessions and four core sessions, although some of those core days are just a quick plank series. I do drills before harder or longer workouts, which is usually about twice a week.) In my log I write down which days I’ll do them and make little check boxes for each session. It seems trivial, but it works for me to (a) have a plan and (b) write it down. If I haven’t planned it, I won’t make the time for it (which usually just means getting up earlier) and if I don’t write it down, I’ll just keep putting it off until all I’m left with are days when I really can’t squeeze it in. Plus, checking it off at the end of each day feels good: at least one thing got accomplished.

An example of my log with my intention for the week. 

Yoga

I also make a checkbox for one weekly yoga session. I often plan it for a day I know I’ll need the extra stretching (for example, if I have Baby all day, post-run stretches can be a little trickier). I prefer to do it at home, where I can do sequences designed for runners at whatever time works for me, but having a scheduled class could help keep you accountable. I had been doing Runner’s World videos but recently started Jasyoga (which has a promo code for a free month if you sign up by April 8!) I’ve been enjoying the videos so much, I’m hoping to do more sessions each week. (Jasyoga also has short meditations, which can be really helpful leading up to a race.)

Sleep

This is one of the hardest and the one that makes me the most jealous of the pros and their claims to get twelve hours of sleep a day. With all the other things to do, how are we supposed to find time to sleep? Two things have helped me:

1. Cut back on TV
Back in 2014, I gave up TV as a New Year’s resolution, in part because I wanted more time to take care of these things. (That same year I qualified for the 2016 Trials, which I don’t think was a coincidence. I wrote about it for The Washington Post and also achieved a life goal I didn’t know I had: making it on FloTrack.) We as a society spend a ridiculous amount of time watching TV, even though we also claim to be crazy busy. If it helps you unwind and relax (which is important for running well!) then go for it. But what I realized over the year was that doing other relaxing things (like reading or going to bed earlier) helped me more; an hour spent reading felt longer and more refreshing than an hour spent watching TV. Although I do watch TV now, I watch significantly less, which means I have more time in the evenings for yoga/strength work/relaxing/just going to bed.

2. Set an alarm
A much simpler trick than banning TV is to set an alarm on your phone telling you to go to bed. I usually set mine for about thirty minutes before I want to be lights out, so I have enough time to stop whatever I’m doing, get ready, and have some devotional time. Admittedly, sometimes I snooze this alarm just like I would a morning one, but I do think it helps keep me accountable for what I promised myself. Apparently, even in my thirties, I still need someone telling me to go the fudge to sleep.

Foam rolling

I foam roll after nearly every run and (on days I’m really on top of it) before some runs. Doing it at the same time every day makes it a simple habit; like brushing your teeth before bed, it becomes routine and just takes a few minutes. You could put the roller where your store your running shoes as a reminder to do it when you come back from your run or beside your bed as a reminder to do it before bed. Alternatively it’s also easy to roll while watching TV or, if Baby lets you, while playing on the floor.

Baby "helping" me foam roll.

Eating right

Meal prep is everywhere these days and while I don’t quite go to the extent of others, at the beginning of the week I plan out each night’s dinner and do all the shopping. It’s easier for me to take the time to make the decisions all at once and then the rest of the week I don’t have to think about what we’re going to eat or whether we have the right ingredients. If I don't make a plan and just scrounge something up, I don’t eat as well.

Easy runs

This one actually does involve running, so I’m not sure if it counts as one of the “little extras” but I’m throwing it in here because it’s so important and is so often ignored: run your easy days EASY (so you can run your hard days hard). Compared to the others, this takes the least amount of extra time; it just means your runs will be a few extra minutes longer (and we’d all rather be running than lifting and foam rolling, right??). But too many people run moderately fast all the time, which means their bodies can’t recover properly. On my easy days, I wear a watch to make sure I’m going slowly enough, which for me is about two minutes slower than my marathon pace. You should finish your easy runs feeling refreshed, not more tired than when you started.

What are some of your tips and tricks for fitting it all in? Any other little extras you emphasize?

Dream big,
Teal

Readjusting

One thing I'm admittedly bad at is reading too much into one workout. When a major one goes poorly, my confidence tanks. On the other hand, a good one is sometimes all I need to carry me through a big PR. It’s a lot of pressure to put on myself, but sometimes that works: knowing that I have no option but to succeed. Sometimes, though, it doesn't.... as evidenced by a recent marathon pace workout.

I prefer to run my last marathon pace (MP) effort 3-4 weeks before the marathon. But this season, I had my heart set on racing both the Cherry Blossom Ten Miler and the Monument Avenue 10K, which are four and three weeks out from Pittsburgh, respectively. I didn’t want to run the MP the weekend before those races either, because that would be three hard weekends in a row (and that’s gotten me into trouble before). So I decided to do the last MP six weeks out. When I planned this all out, I knew thinking I could hit that pace that early was ambitious, but I’m nothing if not ambitious. I figured if it went well that early in the season, I’d really be set to race well at Pittsburgh. And because I stubbornly wanted to do those other two races, I didn’t see a way around it.

The problem with this run is that I really, 100% needed to nail it. I usually gradually work my way down to marathon pace over the course of the season; I just don’t retain the speed over the off-season to jump into goal pace right away (though most plans assume you do it that way). For example, this season I wanted to do four MPs (each a few weeks apart) with the following goals:
8 miles at 6:30
10 miles at 6:25
13 miles at 6:20
16 miles at 6:17 (OTQ pace)

I needed to nail that last one because (a) even if I nailed the others, it’s the only chance I gave myself to do a long effort at goal pace, (b) I didn’t nail all the others (the 13 miler was actually 6:29, though I had a cold that day and it was crazy windy), and (c) I get a lot of confidence from this workout: running 16 miles at OTQ pace was the best evidence I had going into CIM that I could qualify and I relied on it heavily. I’m not sure I can convince myself to go after an OTQ without it.

Well, I didn’t nail it. I averaged 6:21 pace, which is faster than the windy 13 miler and a hair faster (but much longer!) than the 10 miler (actual pace for that was 6:22), so most people will probably think I’m insane in how much this run disappointed me. I went in believing I could do it and, though I was obviously struggling, I don’t think I ever fully gave up on myself. I told myself I’d make up time on the downhills, but I didn’t. With a few miles to go, I was still trying to calculate a way I could make it: Just run the last two miles at 5:50 pace! (Told you I was ambitious…) But I didn’t pick it up, even slightly, even in the final mile. I just didn’t have it and I don’t have any excuses, really, which makes it harder to get over than the 13 miler.

… Except, of course, the major one I stubbornly refuse to accept: that it was too early in the season to expect to hit this workout.

Instead, I spent days fretting about what I would do. I worry that I’m in over my head trying to run so crazy fast on a hilly course. Why the heck did I pick Pittsburgh? I started looking for other races to do (something flat for crying out loud!), maybe even a week or two later. But of course I ran up against the same problems that made me pick Pittsburgh in the first place.

I know I sound crazy with all this, but I really want to prove to myself I can run at OTQ pace for a long chunk. I didn’t used to be quite so anal and, looking back now, I see that I was often able to run faster in races than during these workouts. But I keep coming back to CIM. Again, I know it’s problematic to keep comparing everything to that season, but I know how crucial running 16 miles at goal pace was for my confidence. And with a harder course and no pacers, I’m going to need all the help I can get.

So I fretted and fretted about this very bad run, until finally my stubbornness unclenched slightly and allowed some logic to seep back in. If I’m going to compare everything to CIM, I need to be fair. And six weeks out from CIM, I ran 13 miles at 6:18 pace, six seconds off my goal pace. This workout was six weeks out from Pittsburgh, and I ran 16 miles four seconds per mile off my goal pace. That’s both farther and faster at the same point in training. If I give myself another shot in a few weeks, I might just be able to shave off those seconds, just like I did before CIM. (Three weeks out I ran 16 miles averaging 6:12—OTQ pace at the time.) Which means I need to try again.

Trying again in a few weeks means admitting that I can’t do everything I wanted this season: I’m going to have to skip the Monument 10K and redo this workout that weekend. I’m surprisingly disappointed to miss out on the 10K; it's only a 10K after all. But I was hoping for a chance to PR at some distance this spring, and my 10K PR is probably the softest PR I have. (It’s actually from the first part of a half marathon.) I was also looking forward to running a big hometown race and all the “It’s not RVA without the 10K” signs around town have seeped into my subconscious. But racing Cherry Blossom and having another chance at this workout make more sense for my marathon prep than doing a 10K. The good news is that not racing Monument means I’ll be able to cheer on Husband instead and try to give back a little bit of all the support he gives me.

And after all that desperate Googling for other marathons, doing just the opposite—finally signing up for Pittsburgh—got me surprisingly excited, because I got to do so as an elite, which comes with travel assistance and other perks (like another personalized bib!). Maybe it seems silly and insignificant, but sometimes someone else believing in you, based on some time you ran in what seems like another lifetime, helps you believe in yourself.

I was so bummed after this workout that I avoided writing about it in my log until this morning, but writing this all out has helped, as did looking back at other seasons and accurately assessing what I’ve done in the past. (So I encourage you to journal or keep a log. Even if you don’t share your neuroses, stubbornness, and ambitious plans that flop with the world.) I’m embarrassed how much this workout threw me off, but I need to be realistic about where I'm at, understand that I can't do everything, and prioritize what will help most for the marathon. And give myself another chance to see what I can do with a few more weeks of training.

Moving on... 

Dream big,
Teal

Track Work

There is an endless assortment of workouts you can do before a marathon, with different schools of thought touting one type over another. I think most will agree that the closer to race pace and distance you are, the more the workout matters. To me that means marathon pace workouts are the ones to nail and the ones I put the most emphasis on, followed by tempo runs,  and finally track workouts. Although least important, track workouts are still a staple of my prep: pushing yourself at shorter, faster efforts can teach you that you have more to give, even when you already feel like you’re sprinting. And sometimes it’s just fun to fly down the track.

But there’s no consensus on just how to do them. Some training plans (for example, Advanced Marathoning) include shorter efforts (like 5 x 600) in the second half of the season, as you start to peak, to work on VO2max (how much oxygen you can take in and turn to energy). On the other hand, Renato Canova (a renowned coach of many top Kenyan marathoners) sticks with what I said above—that efforts closer to race pace matter above all—and does the opposite, emphasizing intervals that get longer and slower (closer to marathon effort) as the season progresses. I’ve been curious about Canova’s methods (read more here) for a while, but have yet to make the (rather drastic) jump. My track workouts are somewhat in the middle of these two extremes.

Below are some of my favorites to do during a marathon buildup. I need to credit Coach Jerry of GRC for inspiring most of these. Under his tutelage and weekly track workouts, I dropped ten minutes off my marathon time and was able to hit paces in workouts that intimidated me when I first read them. Just writing these down makes me miss all the laps (and commiserating over a shared hatred for 2Ks) with the speedy GRC ladies!

These intervals are generally done on the slower end of 5K pace. (Or right on/slightly faster than 5K pace for me, because my 5K times have never quite measured up.) For simplicity’s sake, I almost always jog a lap between reps, but I give myself a little extra (maybe a minute more) for intervals in the 1.5-2 mile range. (One rule of thumb is to take rest for 50-90% of the time it takes to run the interval. If an interval takes 6:00, the rest—mostly easy jogging—would be 3:00-5:24.)

THE TUNE UP: 6 x 800

I always run at least one half marathon or ten miler in the lead up to the marathon (see my upcoming races here) as a tune-up to see where I’m at fitness-wise, to get a hard workout in, and to practice racing and all the logistics that go with it. Three or four days before a tune-up race, I do 6 x 800 meter repeats, starting at a very comfortable pace and progressing with each one. I don’t do any too hard; the goal is to feel fast yet relaxed and to remind your head and legs of the speed you’ve got but not do anything that will leave you tired for the race.

LADDERS

There are endless variations of ladders: some building up and coming down (400, 800, 1200, 1600, 1200, 800, 400) or just coming down (3200, 2400, 1600, 800). You could also go by minutes, more fartlek style, if you want to do it off the track. (For example, 2 min, 3 min, 4 min, 5 min, 4 min, 3 min, 2 min). These are fun because each interval is different, so it’s a different challenge, which can make it less mentally tough. The next interval may be longer than the last, but it’s slower (or faster but shorter) so you can talk yourself into focusing on whatever aspect is getting easier. I think these are good earlier in the season when the longer stuff seems too intimidating, but it can be fun to switch up the paces whenever.

THE GRINDERS

These are the longer intervals that really teach you to keep grinding at a pretty tough pace. I’ll do either 3 x 3200 (2 mile) or 4 x 2400 (1.5 mile) with a slightly longer rest than the other workouts. These can also be done off the track to better simulate road racing conditions, although I’d still opt for a flat route. Of course all these workouts could be managed on a road if a track is unavailable, but I tend to think the longer, slower stuff is easier to translate. It’s tough to hit super fast splits for the shorter stuff off the track.

THE DREADED: 2K repeats

I hate 2K repeats. I don’t know why I hate them more than the longer stuff (see above), maybe it’s because the paces are always slightly faster. Something about 5 laps just intimidates me; I can wrap my head around 4 laps, even 8 laps (telling myself I’ll be going slower) but 5 laps are dreaded. That said, the workouts you dread are often the ones you need to do most; dreading them is probably a sign they are taxing some system that needs work. I usually do about 4 repeats of these.

FINAL FLOURISH: 3x 1600

This is my favorite track workout of the season. About 10 days out from the marathon, I do my last track workout, 3 x 1600. The first rep is relaxed, the second is faster but controlled, and the last one is basically all out. I usually set a PR on the last (yea, it’s a little strange to set PRs in workouts but I haven’t raced a mile since high school), which gives me the confidence I need for race day. (See the video below, when I set a (then) PR of 5:22 ten days before CIM.) 

That’s really the biggest thing track workouts do for me; ostensibly, they’re helping my lungs and legs, but really it’s about building confidence and feeling fast.

Dream big, 

Teal 

Habits

A while back, I wrote a story for New Scientist about the neuroscience of habits: how they are formed in the brain and why they are so hard to break. The context matters a lot with habits; when we’re in the same environment, doing the same routine, it can be hard to change things. One of the best times to break a bad habit or start a new one is during a big upheaval: when you’re starting a new job, going on a trip, or moving. So I'm hoping to use the big move to change some bad habits. 

I take a similar approach with each new training season. Maybe it's not a major overhaul, but it’s a fresh start. If you’re currently gearing up for a fall marathon, with a crisp, clean training plan in hand, consider adding one new good habit (practicing race day fueling, getting more sleep) along with the miles and workouts. Dedicate yourself to it before you get too deep in the routine of extra long runs and carb feasts. I’ve found that if I can get through the first few weeks, my habit sticks around even through the monster weeks of hard training.

In the New Scientist article, I outlined a few tips for changing your habits. A big one is to schedule your new habit into your day. Figure out a time you’ll squeeze in that core work. Will you leave for your run earlier and do it after? Will you do planks while you watch TV? Another is to be specific. Don’t say, “I’ll be better about recovery.” Say, “I’ll foam roll every day.” Better yet, have a cue that will remind you of your specific habit at the scheduled time. Leave your foam roller with your running shoes, so you see it before and after your run. When I wanted to track my gratitude, I put my journal beside my bed so I would remember to write in it every night.

And if you miss a day, don’t give up on yourself and declare all hope lost until next season. Slip-ups happen on the way to forming new habits, but if you accept it and get back at it the next time, you’ll make progress. Finally, be patient. Breaking bad habits or starting new ones can take weeks. (One study found an average of around nine weeks, but there was a wide range.)

A current bad habit of mine is skipping my drills. After my last injury, my PT gave me a new set to do as a dynamic warm up and, while I did them all last season, my dedication has dropped lately. The problem is that—rather than do drills on the sidewalk—I like to do them in our apartment building’s backyard. But more often then not, I’m running late and I can’t take the extra step to go back there. (It requires going down a set of stairs, out the back door, doing the drills, and then—geez, the effort—back inside and down more stairs to end up out front to start my run. I mean, seriously guys, it’s a whole ordeal.)

Doing drills in my parents' driveway.
Oh, the luxuries of having a house. 

But soon, I’ll have my own yard. There’s no extra excursion required to do drills. (And I’m sure galloping around doing carioca drills will be a good way to meet the neighbors.) I’m using moving as motivation to get back into the habit of doing drills, but the start of the new season can be a good time for a change as well. Or perhaps watching the extremely dedicated competitors at the track trials this weekend will be a powerful motivator. Although one expert I interviewed just said simply, “The best time to start is now.”

Do you have any bad running habits you’d like to break? Or good ones you want to start?

Dream big,

Teal

Patience

We bought a house.

No, wait. I’m getting ahead of myself. We’re under contract on a house and hoping to close early next month. We haven’t exactly bought it yet.

Which brings me to this post's title: patience. Buying a house (our first) is a lesson in a lot of things: legal speak, perfecting your signature, not having a heart attack over the biggest purchase of your life. But mostly it’s reminding me that I need to work on my patience.

I'm not a very patient person. We order a pizza and I want it immediately. What do you mean they can’t bake and deliver it in 30 seconds??  I’m hungry now. We put an offer on a house that we love and I want to move in immediately. What do you mean we have to wait seven weeks? Who cares about paperwork and packing? I want to live there now.

And, obviously this applies to running, too. I want results immediately. That’s why off days/bad weather/disappointing races are so frustrating. I have to wait six months (or four years) for another opportunity? I want a PR now.

Patience is vital to running. You can’t force things too quickly—you’ll end up hurt or burnt out. One of the biggest keys to long-term running success is faith in the process, the slow accumulation of miles and workouts over years. In some races it comes together beautifully, sometimes not.

When it doesn’t, it can be tough to take. But as I’ve said before: training pays off even when races don’t go as planned. In the meantime, we need to be patient in two ways. First, mentally: trusting that our chance will come again, that one race is not the only race there ever will be, that our faster/stronger/tougher bodies are still there and will prove themselves another day.

And second, we need to be patient in our approach. If you’re looking ahead to a fall race, annoyed by a spring result, keep patience in mind. Don’t double your mileage, dedicate two more hours a day to lifting, and overhaul your entire training process (especially if race day was an anomaly in an otherwise great season). Focus on a tweak or two to make here or there: maybe more miles at goal pace, or foam rolling for a few minutes every day, or a renewed commitment to core work. Doing too much too soon is a consequence of impatience, and it only leads to injury. (And injury will require even more patience.)

It’s not easy, and every off-season I’m reminded of my struggles with patience. But I’ve found that focusing on a slight tweak each season helps remind me that I’m making progress. Maybe you’ll get stuck temporarily, feeling like you’ve hit a plateau, but with patience you’ll break through.

I came to DC for graduate school seven years ago and stayed longer than I thought I would. The house we (haven’t yet) bought is in Richmond, Virginia, where Husband and I met a decade ago. For the last few years, we’ve dreamed about moving back, “settling down” in suburbia, where we can afford a big house with a yard, where Target and Trader Joe’s are a quick drive away (and they have parking!!), where Husband's family is nearby. Now, finally, we’re making moves in that direction; we’ve found that suburban house and are currently just three weeks away from closing.

I suppose I can wait a few more weeks.

Mr. RunnerTeal and I met at the University of Richmond and then got married 
(and practiced our handoffs) there a few years later. Now, we're headed back.

Dream big,

Teal 

Visualize Your Way to Success

This post was originally featured on Salty Running.

I ran the Olympic Trials marathon course dozens of times before I ever made it to LA. The repetitive loops, the water stop navigation, the turns through the University of Southern California, the elation of the finish. I ran it all in my mind—never having taken a step on the streets. On race day, my mind was as prepared to handle the grueling 26.2 miles as my legs.

Visualization is a powerful tool for athletes. When we visualize performing an action, it activates the same brain areas we use when we actually perform that action. Visualizing a race primes your mental muscle the way speedy intervals condition your legs and lungs. By mentally rehearsing running relaxed and smooth in a goal race, you get your brain used to that state of things, so you’re ready to run relaxed and smooth on race day.

Want to use visualization to help nail your next goal race? Here are a few ways to add it to your running game.

Dedicate some time to it. I find it fits in well during the taper; I replace some of the time normally spent running with a few minutes of visualization. Find a quiet place, get comfortable, and try to relax.

Rehearse the entire race. I start with the moments leading up to the race: getting to the starting area, not freaking out over the length of the Port-a-Potty lines, staying calm and relaxed on my warm up. Then I go through the whole race, mile by mile or section by section, trying to be as detailed as possible. Watch the course video beforehand if one is available. If not, study the course map and picture yourself running along it, following the twists and turns. Include major hills, terrain changes, water stops, and cheer zones. And yes, picture that finish and the joy you’ll feel knowing you gave it your all.

Stay positive but realistic. It won’t be all sunshine and rainbows for the entire race. Picture certain things going wrong (it’s hot, it’s raining, you have to go to the bathroom) and how to handle them. I imagine having a slower than expected mile and calmly moving past it to focus on running well for the next mile. The key is to anticipate the inevitable pain and possible mishaps, and then practice accepting them and not letting them derail your entire race.

Rehearse the mental techniques you’ll rely on during the race. Whether it is a certain mantra or inspirational people to think about, practice the things you’ll tell yourself to keep you going. I try to anticipate where it might be tough (the later miles of the marathon, a hilly stretch, a section with little crowd support) and picture myself staying strong regardless. For example, a mental preparation for Heartbreak Hill might be: You’re going to feel like you can’t make it and will want to give up. But remember this is what you’ve trained for, all those hill repeats are about to pay off. Stay tough, get up and over this, then it’s all downhill and onto the crazy cheers of Beacon Street.

Repeat. Do this a couple times before the race; I generally do it every morning of race week. It should become ingrained in your mind, like the miles are ingrained in your legs. On race day, you might find you’re more relaxed: you know what to expect and how to handle it. Then just go through the routine you’ve practiced, stay strong in those tough spots, and celebrate your finish.

Dream big,
Teal

On Making Comparisons: Your Mileage May Vary

This post was originally featured on Salty Running.

This week, I posted my first training log with a little bit of hesitation. You might look at my training and think it’s a lot. But sadly, I look at it and think it doesn’t compare to what my peers are doing.

It's the Internet's fault. I’ll be scrolling through other runners’ Twitter, Instagram, or blogs and suddenly come across posts/photos/workouts that make me feel really bad about myself. How can So-and-so run those workouts? That many miles each week? That fast?

I don’t mean superstars like Shalane and Desi. Obviously I can’t do what they do, so I look at their posts with pure admiration. But I mean the women I’m supposedly close in ability to, other Trials qualifiers with marathon PRs similar to mine. They all seem to be logging much higher mileage, running more workouts, doing more pull-ups (I can do exactly zero pull-ups), just absolutely crushing it day after day after day. It’s hard for me to look at the mileage and workouts others do and not feel totally inadequate.

It only matters what I do and what I've done
when I'm on the race course.

For years, I thought there was no way I—or anyone—could qualify for the Trials on less than 90-mile weeks. In general, the more you run, the faster you’ll be. To me, 90 seemed like the magic number everyone else was hitting. It’s not the 100-plus weeks that the professionals do (although some of my non-pro peers do over 100 as well) but it was the next tier down. The tier I assumed I’d need to be at to get to the Trials. I told myself I wouldn’t make it on my “measly” 70-mile weeks.

So I kept gently bumping up the mileage. And ended up burnt out, feeling flat, or, worst of all, hurt. I am not an “in general” case; I’m not faster on more miles, I’m broken. When I went back to focusing on nailing the hard workouts and taking it easier on the others, I ran better. I did qualify on 70-mile weeks.

Any good coach will tell you that you need to individualize your training to what works for you. But that’s easier said than done, especially for the uber-competitive types. I often feel like my training is so inadequate it’s embarrassing. I’ve never hit 90 for a single week. I still take a day off every week. When this somehow comes up when talking to other qualifiers, my admission of a day off is met with silence that I feel acutely. A day off? Every week?? I jump in to explain myself, “Yeah, I know it’s nuts ... hahaha ... but I’m just coming back from injury…”

In my head, I start making excuses: if only I had all the luxuries that pro-runners have, maybe then I could do it. But my teammates, all non-professional runners with seriously time-consuming day jobs, can do back-to-back long runs and I just can’t. We debate the Saturday verse Sunday long run; I always pull for Sunday because I need to take Saturday off, after a long-ish run Friday. I feel like an overprotected child that isn’t allowed to cross the street. Oh sorry, Mommy says I can’t do that because I might get hurt.

But why do I need to make excuses? And why am I so embarrassed by what I need to do to stay healthy? Fixating on these things devolves into thinking I’m not good enough or I can’t be at this level. Obviously there’s a lot of insecurity here (clearly these girls are going to kick my butt on Feb. 13!!) and a hefty dose of jealousy (why can’t I run that much??). I tried to explain these insecurities to my husband and he didn’t get it. Because, obviously, it shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. I am at this level aren’t I? I may run less, but I still made it. And do my teammates really care or think I’m a baby? No. Is the silence following my day off admission all in my head? Probably.

Years ago, psyched for my first 80-mile week.

It seems obvious, but sometimes we get so caught up in comparing ourselves to others, being wowed by what they can do, that we forget to be proud of what we can do. Seventy-mile weeks was not something I would have dreamed possible years ago, and now I’m complaining about it? Really? I’ve come so far as a runner, and I’ve learned along the way what works and what doesn’t work for me. Knowing my limits is an asset, one that will hopefully carry me to the Olympic Trials starting line injury-free. Comparing myself to others serves no purpose but to make me feel bad about myself. And running is such a mental sport, getting down on myself will only hurt me. So I’m trying—really trying—not to do it.

And I urge you not to do it either. Stop comparing; stop feeling like less of a runner because of what someone else is doing. Your mileage may vary, and you have to do what works for you. Not what works “in general,” but what works for your body, your schedule, and your personality.

If you run ten-mile or 100-mile weeks, go three days a week or every day for three weeks, great. If you like strength training or hate it, like running in the cold or prefer the treadmill, enjoy double days or would rather just shower once (an under-appreciated perk of single days!), that’s fine. Don’t let what you read make you feel bad about what you’re doing. There will always be people doing more and other people doing less. But if you find what works for you, and stick to that, you’ll get a lot farther than if you try to force yourself into someone else’s training plan. Do your own thing and be proud of where it takes you.

Do your own thing... and be proud of it.

Dream big, 
Teal 

Snowzilla

Last time I alluded to one of the annoying things about a February marathon. Here’s the other, more serious one: the weather. I live in Washington DC, not northern Minnesota, so I can’t complain. Or rather, I shouldn’t. But I’m going to anyway.

Because I had my biggest, most important workout scheduled for the weekend Snowzilla decided to invade the East Coast.

Yea, it's pretty... but it's not all about looks, people.
Where can I train?? 

I rearranged all my workouts, moving my last big workout (a long run with most of the miles at goal marathon pace) from Sunday to Friday (pre-Snowzilla attack). I figured, after my big workout, I’d be content and relieved to be on the treadmill the rest of the weekend, glad to be done with the monster workout before the monster snowstorm.

Except the content feeling never came, because Friday’s workout went terribly.

It was slow—way too slow. I ran a loop I have always hated (Hains Point) because my go to route (Beach Drive) is only open to runners on weekends. The wind seemed brutal, my gels were solid rocks, and my stomach didn’t want to handle anything. But those excuses don’t seem to justify why it went so poorly. I was desperately trying to talk myself back into it, to not be negative, to put the last bad mile behind me and try to get back on a reasonable pace for the next one, but nothing seemed to be working. My legs just would not go faster.

The redeeming quality of multiple Hains Point loops was that Kerry had again offered to help out, and she could jump in for a mile here and there. And once again, I owe her eight zillion thank yous. I wanted to give up. Brutally. Alright, running demons, you win, I’m done. I knew I shouldn’t give up on the workout—even though I was going WAY too slowly—because I needed to get in a workout somehow. There’s no making up this one (we’re too close to the race and now all the roads are covered in snow), so slow was better than nothing. I knew that and kept reminding myself of it, but it didn’t matter. It was Kerry’s presence—and her bright vest coming around the bend like a neon angel—that made me not.

When the struggle fest was over and I finally warmed up inside, it seemed all hope had been sucked out of me, by the wind, by the demons, by my evil watch for telling me splits I didn’t care to see. I wanted to run much faster for this workout; I wanted to prove to myself that my goal pace for the marathon is possible. If I hit it in this workout I’d be ready, just like before CIM. Once again, I needed proof I wasn’t being bat$#*! crazy about my goals. But this was slower than the marathon pace workout I did over Christmas, which I also declared as too slow at the time. And it was slower than this workout pre-CIM.

I started to think I’m being completely nuts. I’ve actually adjusted my outlandish goals from the beginning of the season to be ever so slightly more realistic, and now even those seem entirely delusional. I started thinking about all the people who warned me to just to enjoy the LA race, not put too much pressure on myself, not go for some crazy goal only to end up upset. That approach isn’t me, but during and after this workout, giving in suddenly seemed logical and inevitable. Maybe I shouldn’t be going for a PR; I’m not in shape to anyway. Why stress about it?

Man, the demons know exactly what to say to bring you down. I know my goals aren’t always rational or logical, but going for them anyway is what I love to do. I remember this same workout from last season. It also went poorly, only much, much more so. (In fact, every marathon pace workout from that season was a disaster.) I didn’t have time to complain about it, because I ended up hurt instead, but I do remember the day after that terrible workout I was talking myself back into believing my ridiculous goal was still possible. I had less to go on then. Where did that Teal go? And how do I get her back?

After spending the remainder of Friday in a total I Hate Running Funk, I woke up Saturday and tried to find a glimmer of hope, a small piece of evidence, that I’m not crazy to still chase my ambitious goal.

For starters, I am in better shape than ever before. I can’t base everything on one workout; everyone has bad days. The rest of this season’s workouts (and the half) have been slightly faster than past seasons. So that’s good.

But how much faster? Not enough. I never hit the pace I want to hit on race day in a long workout. I relied heavily on the fact that I had run 16 miles at 6:12 when I attempted to run 26 miles at 6:12 at CIM. I don’t have that this time. How the fudge can I expect to go faster for longer?? But I think—perhaps similarly to not basing everything off one workout—I need to stop comparing everything to one race. CIM was the best race of my life, obviously, but that doesn’t mean that to have another great race everything has to align in exactly the same way, right? (Not necessarily a rhetorical question, as I seem to be having a hard time convincing myself of this.) 

But as I searched through my logs from previous marathons, I found my glimmer:

Before the season I ran CIM, I rarely (i.e. never) hit marathon pace in workouts. I almost always ran faster on race day. (Boston 2014 is the only exception.) Also, my workouts where I tried to hit goal pace used to be shorter than they are now. So I had much farther to go on race day and I still ran faster.

Part of me feels like that was another lifetime ago. That was some other Runner Teal—can I really still do that?

But part of the reason I was super bummed after Friday’s workout was that it drained some of the Trials excitement out of me. Listen, I’m a running super nerd: I am so excited to line up with my idols, I can’t wait to see the men speed by me, or to get a live account of the women’s race as we do our out and backs on Figueroa St. I am still beyond thrilled to be invited. BUT I’m also excited to race myself—literally, to race against myself—and to try to get this big PR I’ve been dreaming of. When I think it might not be possible or that I shouldn’t go for it, I get really bummed and it steals some excitement from the whole enterprise. Because no matter what those demons are trying to tell me, I really do want to go for it.

Snowzilla dumped its snow and moved on, up the East Coast. Yet it continues in my head. I got walloped with two feet worth of cold reality this weekend, and I still feel like I’m sitting in a blizzard of negativity and reasons to give up. But I have a little morsel of hope, providing just a little light and warmth: I’ve run faster in races than in practice before. It’s years old and fading fast… but I’m clinging to it, as the storm rages on.

Trudging forward. 

Dream big,

Teal

P.S.- Gratitude update: I’m still healthy. At this point last time I was dealing with a season-ending injury, but so far I've made it through, into the taper, in one piece. And that is HUGE. So no matter my mental demons, I’m incredibly grateful for that.