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 

Gut Training

I’m often surprised how many runners, even at the sub-elite level, don’t practice their race-day nutritional plan. I recently talked to a woman (a sub-3 hour marathoner) who had fallen apart in the later stages of a marathon; she didn’t realize until after the race that the drinks she diligently took at each aid station had no carbs. When I talked to Trent Stellingwerff, a physiologist at the Canadian Sport Institute, for an article a while back, he said, “So many athletes show up to the race and then find out what drinks there are. That’s just insane, that’s just bad preparation. Get on the websites, find out what’s going to be there and practice with it for a couple of months.”

Most physiologists would suggest to not only practice, but to push your stomach's limit so you're taking as much carbohydrate as possible. The Breaking2 project tried to get their athletes to practice consuming between 60 and 90 g of carbs per hour, although it doesn’t seem like the athletes successfully tolerated that much. In a podcast, Stellingwerff talked about testing his athletes to find their puke point, which is exactly what it sounds like: forcing down as many carbs as possible until they come back up. There's some new evidence that your GI system can be trained to tolerate more, so you can (and should) train your stomach to handle race day fuel just like you train your legs to handle race day pace. You can find your individual limit in practice so you don't discover your puke point mid-race. (60 grams of carbs an hour seems to be the upper limit for most people; gels generally have about 20 g and 12 ounces of Gatorade has 22 g.) 

Below is what I drank and ate before, during, and after a recent marathon pace workout. Pace makes a huge difference; I have no trouble scarfing gels at an easy jog, but it’s always more of a digestive challenge when trying to run fast, which means that's exactly the time to practice it.  And, of course, the ‘after’ matters a lot in training, too, because you need to be sure you’re giving your body what it needs to recover and get ready for the next effort.

Note: This is what works for me, after fiddling with it over the years. Do whatever works for you, not what your friends or Shalane Flanagan or the makers of Gatorade want you to do. I’m just trying to give one example and (more importantly!) to convince you to practice your own fueling.

BEFORE

I eat a plain bagel and a half, with peanut butter and banana, about ninety minutes before the run. I used to just eat one bagel, but then decided I could probably tolerate some more so I went for it. For most long runs, I often just have oatmeal (still with nut butter and a banana) but for the marathon pace runs I really try to eat what I would on race day, which is as many carbs as possible. I also have some water and a cup of tea (I don’t like coffee).

DURING

One thing I can’t emphasize enough is to practice with whatever you’ll take on the course. Unless you plan to bring your own fluids, look up what the race is serving (even down the flavor) and practice with it. This year I’m being anal enough to practice with Gatorade Endurance (not just regular, store-bought Gatorade which is my general go-to) because that’s what Pittsburgh serves. If the race serves low or no-carb drinks (as more and more races are doing these days), you’ll need to supplement with more gels or food along the course. (Usually those races up the amount of food served—pretzels, candy, fruit—but you should practice eating those foods at pace too!) I try to sip every 2-3 miles, depending on where water stops will be.

I’ve also been experimenting with two Clif gels, each with 100 mg of caffeine. (More on caffeine and running here.) I tried that once in the lead up to Richmond and had a disastrous run, with a muscle cramp coming on soon after the second gel. I blamed the caffeine (whether fairly or not) and went back to less caffeine, more spread out. (At Richmond, I took a 35 mg caff gel at the start--purely for the caffeine, I hadn't even used any carbs yet--the 100 mg caff gel at mile 10, and another 25 mg caff gel at mile 18.) Determined to get that extra boost, I tried again this season (taking them about 8 miles apart), to no ill effect, so I’ll keep trying that strategy.

I admit I do one thing wrong: I don’t carry both sports drink and water, so I sip sports drink when I take my gels. You should take gels with water; having them with sports drinks can overload your system and lead to trouble. I sometimes put a water bottle on my porch and plan a route to go by there at the same time I'll take a gel but more often than not I just go with the Gatorade I carry. Maybe it’s toughening my stomach that much more (??)... but this strategy is not advised by the experts.

IMMEDIATELY AFTER

I drink chocolate milk basically as soon as I get in the door. (If I don’t finish the run at home, I bring Horizon Organic Chocolate Milk with me and drink it before driving back. It doesn’t need to be refrigerated, so it’s easy to bring along to the gym, a race, etc.) The studies on chocolate milk are numerous and I’ve never really needed much convincing: it’s delicious and easy. Also water, lots of water.

AFTER

This is the only one that will be significantly different on race day. Post-marathon I’ll have a big juicy burger, fries, possibly a milkshake, and definitely a beer.

But during training, I try to have a healthier mix of carbs and protein; on this day it was French toast, made with whole wheat bread and covered with blueberries and maple syrup. If I don’t have it right away, later in the day I’ll often have a smoothie (with Greek yogurt, milk and fruit) to make sure I get enough calcium. I’m still nursing, which means a lot of my calcium goes to Baby, so I need to be sure I’m getting enough to keep those bones strong.

I also drink tart cherry juice. It helps reduce inflammation and may improve sleep. If you want to try it, be sure to get 100% tart cherry juice (i.e. not juice made with sweet cherries or “watered” down with other juices). Some people say it takes some getting used to (it is tart, not sweet) but I don’t mind it. Trader Joe’s brand is the best I’ve tried.

What are your favorite ways to fuel and re-fuel?

Dream big, 

Teal 

Planning a Season

With two years since the Trials and two years to get back, it’s time to make a plan and get after it. Here’s how I approach planning a season.

Step 1: Pick a goal

Last week marked two years since the 2016 Trials. Thanks to an assortment of photo apps, I was reminded on a daily basis of the lead up, race day, and the celebrations after. Not so surprisingly, it made me realize (a) how awesome that experience was, (b) how glad I am I got to share it with so many people, and (c) how much I want to do it all again.

In the past few weeks, randomly and for the most fleeting of moments, I’ve thought: Maybe it’s crazy to try and go for a qualifier this season. Maybe it’s still too soon. But then I think: why the heck not? I want back in, all in, 100%. Last season I struggled to be patient knowing I wasn’t ready to go for it yet and dreamed about “next season.” Well, that time has come, so quit hesitating: this spring’s goal is sub-2:45. 

Step 2: Pick a race

Deciding what I wanted to do was easy; where I wanted to do it was harder. For whatever reason, there never seem to be as many marathon options in the spring as the fall. I didn’t have a qualifying time for Boston, I had too many bad memories of training for (and not racing) Grandma’s, I didn’t want to travel too far (the London Marathon is certainly on my bucket list though not in my budget), and I wanted a race that might have some good competition around my pace. I kept considering the Pittsburgh Marathon and rejecting it because just mentioning the race prompts a comment about its hills. I qualified in 2014 thanks in part to a perfect course, can I really do it on one much harder? But the timing (May 6) is perfect, it’s drive-able from where I live, and there are usually a couple of women in the 2:40-2:50 range. In the end, Pittsburgh won because I kept coming back to it: something was drawing me there, which seems to be how I often make running decisions and goals.

Step 3: Make a plan

After the major details are ironed out, it’s time for specifics: I open Excel and plot out all my workouts, long runs, easy days, off days, and miles until race day.

Some people can be intimidated by seeing it all spelled out and feeling like they have to stick to the script exactly. For the record, I NEVER completely stick to the plan I make. Sometimes I need to take an extra day or two off here or there or I decide I’m feeling more zonked then I should and cut back a little. Or I’m feeling in need of some speedier paces, so I switch from a tempo to a track workout. (I did exactly that just this week.) I used to print my plan out, but I no longer do that because keeping it on the computer makes it more flexible: the 21st century equivalent of just penciled in and easily modified. But even though I know it might change, I still like having it all spelled out: seeing how the workouts will progress in distance and pace gives me a sense of hope that my goals are possible. Here’s what I want to do and here’s how I’m going to do it. But if knowing all the details ahead of time stresses you out, it can help to have a coach who gives the workouts in smaller chunks and helps you readjust as necessary.

I start with what I’ve learned from the past. My CIM plan forms the backbone of my current plan, since I know the progression worked for me and left me injury free. I check to make sure I’m not making the same mistakes as before Grandma’s. (Looking back, I’m pretty sure I know exactly which three-week block did me in). I also look to notes I took after Richmond (more 20 milers!) to remind myself where my weaknesses were last time.

I write in the races I want to do in the buildup; this season it’s Rock-n-Roll DC Half, Cherry Blossom, and Monument 10K. Everything major (workouts, races, off days) gets color-coded because it’s pretty because it’s easy for me to see when two hard efforts are too close together or there aren’t enough off days. I add in some workouts specific to the race I’m running: this time it’s more hill workouts and not shying away from hillier routes for pace miles.

A snapshot of three weeks of CIM training--the season I qualified for the 2016 Trials--9, 8, and 7 weeks until the race. The top line is the mileage for the day, below is a quick note on the pace or workout. Asterisks mean I adjusted something (about halfway through the season I realized I needed more days off), races are blue, track workouts are peach, tempos are red, marathon pace workouts are purple, and off days are grey. The first week is a down week after a couple of weeks around 70 miles per week.

Then I take the rest of life into account: I often have Baby duty all day Tuesday so I make sure that day is stroller friendly. (But it should be noted, here and everywhere, how much of a superstar Mr. Runnerteal is for taking Baby duties all the other days.) A big workout fell on the day of Baby’s first birthday party so that got moved, because first birthdays are, um, kind of a big deal. It's good to look ahead and see how the tough workouts are going to fit among everything else going on--work assignments, travel, weddings--and adjust so you're not completely draining yourself.

Once I have most of the workouts in place, I add in the rest of the miles in a way that I’ve learned (through much trial and error) works for me: I aim for a 16-week buildup with peak mileage in the 70s, I take one day off a week (usually the day before my longest run), I usually have a mid-week medium long run that gets up to 15 miles (easily my favorite run of the week), I sprinkle in lots of easy days, and I take down weeks (cutting back my total mileage and long run) every 3-4 weeks. Then I fiddle around until the progression makes sense, so that I’m never jumping up by too much. (A 10% increase in weekly mileage is the old standard, though Runner’s World has a more nuanced calculator based on more recent research here. I aim for around 10% but fudge that rule a bit.)  And I finish with basically the same taper I’ve done for years because it works for me and I’m too scared to change it (nor do I see the point).

Finally, I put pace goals next to each of the major workouts so they progress, optimistically but possibly--just possibly (*fingers crossed*)--realistically to the pace I need for 2:45.

Step 4: Get to work.

This season I’m aiming to put up a blog each Friday so you can follow along on the road to another OTQ attempt. If you have an idea for a post or something you’re curious about, let me know in the comments below. This post was inspired by such a comment, so thanks!

Dream big,
Teal

Race Report: Richmond Marathon

2:50 is my white whale. I have felt like a runner capable of a sub-2:50 marathon since 2012. From 2012 to 2016, I ran five marathons with a goal of 2:50 or faster. I broke 2:50 just once.

So what do I do? I decide that my first marathon post-baby should be another sub-2:50 attempt. There was a reason for this nonsense, namely that I had run exactly that pace for a 12-mile marathon pace workout. A few weeks later, I comfortably cruised through 10-plus miles at that pace again… until a bad hamstring cramp freaked me out enough to cut the workout a few miles short. Before my last few marathons, I had done 16 miles at goal pace, but I consoled myself that I used to run big PRs off just 12. But stopping that workout early also meant I only ran two twenty milers, when I usually do three or more.

And so I fluctuated between thinking that 2:50 was crazy and trying to convince myself that maybe it wasn’t. But I knew I had to go for it; my recent confidence issues wouldn’t be fixed by finishing a marathon, but from challenging myself like I used to and seeing what I was capable of. As an added motivation, the top five would win prize money and, based on results from the last few years, 2:50 seemed like it would get me fourth or fifth. So I repeatedly tried to silence all negativity… or was I silencing logic? Whatever, just ignore it.

Race morning temps were in the twenties; I’m not sure I’ve ever run a marathon that cold and I was thrilled. (I would much rather be too cold than too hot when racing.) Just before the start, I removed my last layer: a long-sleeve I planned to ditch. As soon as I took it off, I put it right back on. I’d take it off once I warmed up after a few miles. (A few miles turned out to be 17.)

Early on I just tried to relax. I couldn’t believe the marathon was here and that I had to somehow get through 26.2 miles at my second fastest pace ever; I tried to not think about it. My hope all through pregnancy was to run this (now) hometown race as my first marathon back, and the fact that it was all working out—I am here doing it!—was special. I focused on being grateful and continually tried to ignore how far I had left to go.

All smiles early on.

 I hit the first few miles right around goal pace and at six miles I was in 5th place (thanks to the enthusiastic spectators for letting me know!) After a speedy downhill seventh mile, we crossed a bridge I used to run in college while training for my first ever marathon. On the bridge, a woman and a man caught me and I tucked in to form a little pack. We hit the mile 8 marker and the guy said something like, “Yes! We crushed that mile, let’s keep it rolling!” It reminded me how nice it was to have constant encouragement at your side, but I saw the split and knew it was a bit too fast for this early. (My plan was to wait until much, much later to get competitive.) I dropped back slightly. The guy gestured for me to get back with them, but I begrudgingly let them (and my podium spot) go. Maybe she’ll come back to me…

The whole race was fall perfection, but miles 8 to 10 were particularly gorgeous: the James River on one side and a canopy of autumn leaves overhead. Someone had set up a bonfire in his front yard, which seemed like the perfect way to spend a crisp fall morning. That, or going for a long run, which is what I truly love to do at this time of year. Right, enjoy this.

The next few miles had some hills and I tried to focus on little landmarks: when I’d take a gel (mile 10), when I might see my family (mile 11), when the course flattens again (mile 12). Somewhere around mile 12, I caught and passed the woman who dropped me at mile 8. I was back in 5th and for a stretch I felt really good. I hit the halfway a few seconds ahead of pace—perfect—and I didn’t dwell on the fact that I had just run farther at that pace than I have in a year and half (and now had to do it all over again). At a cheer zone around mile 14, the M.C. started yelling, “Alright everyone let’s cheer for this woman in pink!! Alright pink woman!” There was no else around, but I felt special nonetheless. I was having fun; I was doing what I set out to do. Maybe I can even pick it up? No. Still too early.

Around mile 15, the course goes over a long (~1.5 mile) highway/bridge heading back into the city. I knew from the elevation chart we were heading uphill again, but it was one of those long stretches where you can’t really tell you’re going up, except you’re slowing and it feels inexplicably hard and it’s windy and, Ugh, this is just the worst. The bliss I’d felt around mile 14 faded quickly. In any marathon this is a tough stretch for me; the early miles are taking their toll but you’re not yet close enough to start counting down to the finish. My feet were really starting to hurt, which seemed earlier than usual: Are my shoes too old?? Did running fewer miles in training mean I’m not prepared for all this pounding??  But then, I’m running a freaking marathon, of course my feet hurt! I refocused on taking it one mile at a time: Get to mile 17 and the course will flatten, get to mile 18 and take your last gel, get to mile 20 and you’re in the homestretch.

Near mile 19, I got passed again and this time I knew it was trouble. This was the point in the race to fight and go with her, but she flew by so fast it didn’t seem possible. My pace had slipped in the last few miles and I was now in danger of not getting top five or sub-2:50. C’mon, fight for it. But she was gone. There was a little blip of a hill over a highway and as I ran toward it I was praying, “C’mon, God, give me the motivation to get back in this race and not give up.” As I crested the hill, I saw the girl who just passed me blow by another woman and suddenly I knew I could catch that woman too. There had been no woman in my sights for miles; she must be slowing. Here we go.

Also in this stretch I heard the best cheer of the day. After I removed my long sleeve shirt, people could finally see my number, #22, and were cheering for it. One girl screamed, “I don’t know ‘bout you…” I knew it was directed at me, but I didn’t put it together for a few strides: “… but I’m feeling 22.” I was too far past her to say anything, but I wish I could tell her that is the most thought out cheer I’ve ever heard. Thank you.

As I focused on my new target, I passed the 20-mile mark. I always memorize my goal splits for 20 and 25 miles; I know that seems silly (especially 25) but it’s helped me in numerous races. If I’m anywhere close, it gives me a boost to know I’m ahead of pace or a kick in the pants if I’m just over. (If I’m nowhere close, I’m already well aware and not looking at splits anymore. See: Boston 2013, 2014 and the Trials.) I knew I was probably a few seconds slow, but when I saw the clock, it seemed I was nearly 40 seconds slow. Can that be right? That doesn’t seem right...? For some dumb reason (I am not exactly logical mid-marathon), I didn’t just look at my watch, which would later tell me that whatever I saw wasn’t right. I was only 11 seconds slow. I wish I had known that, 11 seconds seems within striking distance; 40 seemed unlikely. I tried to put it behind me; I can still get 5th. Focus on getting 5th.

Mile 24, all focus.

I caught 5th place a little after mile 20 and tried to make it decisive. She stuck with me for a bit before falling back and I tried to keep pressing. I was running scared, but it was helping. Once again, I felt good. I can do this. Maybe I can even pick it up and get back on pace. Miles 21 and 22 were faster and I started counting down: one more mile until I take PowerAde for the last time, then one more mile until I see my family, then one more mile and I’m done. I can do this. I AM DOING THIS. My feet hurt, my bones hurt, my left calf was tightening. Doesn’t matter, I’m picking it up, I’m finishing strong. Except, after mile 22, I wasn’t. I was slowing. Miles 24 and 25 were the slowest of the day. But I felt like I was trying; I felt like I was giving it my all. I knew sub-2:50 wasn’t going to happen, but I could get close. And more importantly, I could hang on to 5th. I had to hang on.

With just the 0.2 left, the course turns toward the river and you go flying downhill. People were cheering: “You’re in 5th!” “It’s the last podium spot, go get it!” As I got closer to the finish I swear I heard multiple people screaming, "She's on your tail!" I was sprinting all out, flying down the hill, praying out loud: “Please, please, let me get 5th. Please, please don’t let me give up now.” All the way to the finish line.

2:50:20. Fifth place.

So I did get my top 5 finish. Sixth place finished two minutes later. Once again I have no idea what those people were cheering about (or how I conjure up these hallucinations of cheers). The half was finishing simultaneously, so maybe they were cheering some rivalry among those finishers. (The top places had been decided long before.)

Women's Podium. (1st place left before the ceremony.)

But once again I did not break 2:50. Did I really push hard enough? What if someone had told me there was a woman on my tail a bit earlier? What if I hadn’t miscalculated the 20-mile split? Could I have knocked off 21 seconds to get my other goal of 2:49:XX? I don’t think so. Even “sprinting all out, flying down the hill” my split for the last 1.2 wasn’t all that fast. When I ran a huge ten-mile PR of 60:19 in 2014, someone commented that I should have gone just two seconds per mile faster to nab my original goal of sub-60. When you put it like that, it sounds easy (here, it was just one measly second per mile), but it’s not so simple. In those final miles, I really thought I was pushing it and picking it up, but my body wasn’t responding. Even if I had been under goal pace, I think I would have lost it in the final miles. Miles 24 and 25 were the slowest of the day, despite telling myself I could finally give everything I had left.

On the one hand, I’m a little annoyed I just missed it… but on the other hand, I’m also more than a bit surprised I did it at all. As always, God carried me through the race. He gave me a motivational boost right when I needed it most and proved once again that I capable of things that seem more than a little bananas on paper. The time is my second fastest EVER, fifteen seconds faster than I ran at the Trials when I was in MUCH MUCH better shape. (Case in point why I will happily take a day in the 20s over one in the 80s.) How did I do that? The training was not the greatest. The tune-up races were slower than goal pace. There were many times (that I was actively trying to ignore) when all the miles left seemed insurmountable, but unlike most races there wasn’t any particular moment where dropping out seemed like a real possibility. I’m not sure I vanquished all the demons I talked about in my last post, but I certainly proved I am still a marathoner who doesn’t give up. (Also: We are all capable of so much more than we realize, if we just believe it.) 

And that’s what I’m most excited about. Because the training for this marathon was shorter than normal, I wasn’t as eager as usual about a taper or time off. I’m already anxious to get going again (but am forcing myself to take my usual time off anyway). I’m dreaming of spring races and I’m excited to see what I can do on training that’s closer to 100 percent. All season, I considered this race to be the ultimate rust buster: just get the first postpartum marathon out of the way, it wouldn’t be perfect, it wouldn’t be a PR, but I’d prove I can conquer it again… and then next season I’ll get back to business.

I can’t wait.

Dream big, 

Teal

Ready or Not...

The Richmond Marathon is Saturday. Am I ready? Yes… and no. I’ve done the long runs, the tempos, the track workouts. Some went well, some didn’t, that’s pretty par for the course; no buildup is perfect. I went in with lower mileage goals and lower expectations to match. But despite doing pretty much everything I set out to do, I still don’t feel as ready as I’d like.

I think it's because coming back from Baby was so unpredictable. Some things were easier than expected, so in some ways I feel like I haven't done enough to deserve to run well. Other things were a lot harder than expected, totally blindsiding me, and they’ve left lasting scars on my confidence.

It's been a long road back, but I've done the work.
My body is ready... now to get my mind there...

Easier than expected: Endurance.
In early summer, I wrote out a plan that slowly increased my weekly mileage and my long runs. It looked a little daunting, considering I was coming back from six weeks of zero running and many months of short walk/shuffles. But the long runs came back surprisingly easily; twenty miles is once again no biggie, which seemed impossible just a few months ago.

As hard as expected: Speed.
I suspected speed would come back slower than endurance and that was/is definitely the case. All season, I’ve run basically one pace, whether it’s a half marathon, a ten miler, 12 miles at goal pace alone on the roads, a trail 5K. I can’t speed up in shorter races… but I also haven’t really slowed down in longer workouts. I may not be able to crush a 5K (when can I ever?) but if I can run that same pace for 26.2… then speed schmeed, I’ll be just fine with that.

Harder than expected:
1. Not having control/ownership of my body. One thing I didn't appreciate fully was the role nursing would play in my running. I figured I’d have to time workouts around Baby’s meals (definitely true in the early days, less of an issue now) and that I probably wouldn’t get to my racing weight this season. (I don’t feel comfortable worrying too much about weight loss while I’m nursing and see no need to rush things in that department.) I didn’t anticipate the ab issues I’d have, which my PT says won’t resolve until I stop nursing since the hormones can cause ligaments to stay loose. Because of that, I haven’t been able to attack core or strength workouts with my old gusto. My body is still not my own, and I can’t treat it as such. I didn’t anticipate that. The fact that I slacked off on these “little extras” makes me feel a bit like I didn’t put in enough effort, that I don’t deserve to run well.

2. But the much bigger issue that I did not see coming, AT ALL, is the hit that labor/delivery gave to my running self-esteem. I knew labor would be a doozy, to say the least, despite everyone assuring me, “You’re an athlete; you’ll be fine.” Well, I wasn’t. I always knew I’d get an epidural—I didn’t see the point in suffering when relief is possible and safe—but I didn’t anticipate how bad actually taking it would make me feel afterwards. All the women who do it naturally? How the fudge do they do that? And why couldn’t I? That mattered not a whit to me before labor, but somehow afterwards I felt really defeated that I couldn’t take it. (Though I do believe there’s something to be said for going in knowing I was going to get an epidural eventually. You can’t do anything your mind isn’t set on.) And ultimately I needed a c-section. While I am beyond grateful for modern medicine and a healthy happy Baby (albeit one with an off-the-charts-enormous head), I still feel like my body failed me. My body that I rely on so much to run well, it couldn’t do this thing it’s made to do.

One thing I hear repeatedly (I even wrote about it myself before Baby) is that labor toughens you. All these women say, “Running is easy after labor, nothing compares.” “If my body can do that, it can do anything.” Well, what if my body can’t/didn’t do that? Maybe everyone who says those things made it through naturally (and to them I say, “Heck yea, you are crazy tough and CAN do anything), but that would put them in the minority.

Maybe I’m alone in this (I hope so... I don't wish self doubt on anyone!), but I feel the opposite; my sense of toughness has been seriously questioned ever since labor. One person who labored naturally told me contractions just feel like bad menstrual cramps, but in my opinion they are at least an order of magnitude worse. Which makes me wonder: Maybe I’ve never had a bad cramp. Maybe I’ve never felt real pain. Maybe I’m a giant wuss.... And it spirals from there.

This attitude is absolutely terrible for the marathon. I do not think I’m a particularly talented runner; I certainly did not start off all that fast. I’ve always thought any success came from being tough and determined and now I’m left wondering… am I really?

This is the part where I’m not sure I’m ready. The marathon is a mental beast and your mind has to be ready to tackle it. I grappled with whether I should run at all. But giving up now—not even showing up at the start line—is giving into those demons that have haunted me for almost eight months. That’s not the answer. It’s time to shut them up.

It will not be easy; these last few days I’ve been preparing myself with mantras and battle strategies to have ready when the doubts start. In a recent episode of Lindsey Hein’s podcast, Deena Kastor explains that when the race gets tough you have to dig deep and "define yourself," and that’s what I feel I need to do. Remember what I am capable of and prove it to myself. Find the old Teal, deep within me somewhere. The one who IS tough, maybe not in the delivery room, but on the race course. Somewhere on the streets of Richmond, when the miles are taking their toll, and the pace starts to slip, she damn well better be ready to come out... or we're going to have to get her out, one way or another.

Dream big,
Teal