Miles and miles and miles

I’m learning many things among them being that serious, and I mean serious, marathoners run some serious miles in training. I mean like 60-80 miles a week (maybe more?). Makes my 40 miles a week look anemic. But for the time being, as I have been saying: To each to their own ability - and I’m working hard to improve mine.

I've also learned that runners that do serious miles simply do a lot of miles *everyday*, like 8-12 miles almost every day, along with a long run or two in there somewhere. Do the math and you'll see how quickly you get up to 50 miles/week at that rate. But this is also really hard on the body and definitely does not work for me. I have found that if I manage my miles, time on my feet, and apply rest periods between run days, that I can have a very satisfactory running experience. I have to be careful not to let my competitive nature take over and try to claim a 100 mile/week.

But I love running the miles. I love the feeling of just chugging down the path, that feeling of being in a groove, the feeling of my body exerting itself. It is so hard to explain. It is odd that even though I might feel discomfort in different areas, i.e. my achilles, or a hamstring starting to fire, or whatever, that as long as I get my head back into a groove I can overcome those discomforts.

I did 18 miles last week after a scheduled  down week with a long run of “only” 11 miles, and while doing the 18 miles felt good, it was hard. At mile 16 there is no doubt that I was struggling. I was tired, I was fatigued. Fortunately a woman passed me right at mile 17 and I was able to use her as a rabbit and she basically got me to my truck. Crazy how that works. For those of you that run, you’ll know what I mean. I would have made it on my own, kind of clunking along, but having someone to chase really helps.

This particular 18 miler was an out-and-back along the C&O Trail in MD. This picture has me running northwest with the canal on my right and a rock bluff on my left. The Potomac is on the other side of the rock bluff. This particular morning was after some rain, which made the trail a bit softer. When it's dry, it feels harder than cement.

It’s a weird feeling running out 9 miles knowing that I’m going to have run all the way back in order to get home. It's a trail along the river/canal, no houses, no roads. During the week the trail there are few people using it. From time to time I might come across another runner, walker, or cyclist, but not too many. There are no short cuts, no buses, no one to call. If I want to get home, I have to make it on my own. In a way it’s kind of empowering. 

In a previous post I've mentioned the mental negotiation that I go through as I run the miles: only 3 miles until I get to turn around and head back, 2 more miles to a Gu, only 6 miles to the end, and so on. On this particular occasion I had a very scary thought which I am sure I am destined to relive: It occurred to me that at the pace I was running (~9-9:30m/m) that once I got to my turn-around spot that I had another 1hr20-25min or so to get home. For some reason, the time bothers me more than the distance. And when I start fixating on how long it is going to take me to finish, I start wanting to run faster in order to get it over with. This is a problem for me since for longer distances makes it more difficult for me to finish strong.

Miles and miles... run, run, run...

6 weeks to the MCM

2 more 20milers on the schedule and then it’s downhill from there!! I am jazzed