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San Fran is a-comin’… but that doesn’t make me any better than you

San Fran is a-comin’… but that doesn’t make me any better than you

The countdown is on for the San Francisco Marathon – state #10 and marathon #15 for me, incredible as that is to believe.

I’ve never been to San Fran, or even to any other part of Cali, so I’m super stoked for the race.  I’ll only be spending a quick weekend in SF before venturing down to southern Cali and the OC for a vacation with C and my in-laws, so what better way to see as much of SF as possible than to run 26 miles through it?  Seems to be a pretty cost and time-efficient and effective way to spend my Sunday morning there.

Now, don’t get me wrong – I have been training for this race, a race that’s a good 6 or so weeks after early June’s Sunburst Marathon, which was about 6 or so weeks after Boston in mid-April.  I’m not planning to break any records in San Fran–just enjoy the ride, take in the beautiful scenery, and do whatever my body will let me do that day–and I am feeling prepared for it.  My long runs of late have been at hilly Waterfall Glen, and unlike my 6 weeks post-Boston/pre-Sunburst, this time around I’ve been doing speedwork… which has left me feeling refreshed (and fast! or fast for me, at least).  So, in all, I’ve been feeling good- confident, happy with what I’ve run in the past 6 weeks, and prepared for this “gap” marathon race.

And then John linked me this article – which, if you haven’t read it, is basically about how balls-to-the-wall challenging the San Fran race is. Great!  ::dramatic eye roll and sigh here::

Not too long ago, I watched the SF course video, which described the first half of the race as “hilly and challenging” but the second part as “fast.”  Thus, going into the race, I’ve been thinking about how I’ll run this as I do for Boston… take it calm and steady for the first half, and then go for it in the latter stages of the race.  Am I nervous for the race?  Not yet.  That will probably come once I wake up around 3 or 4 a.m. the morning of (since I’ll start running around 5:45), and it finally hits me that I’ll be running a marathon that day.  I haven’t thought much about it, at least in those terms, because it seems to have just snuck up on me.

Anyway.  What this article unnecessarily did was dis people who manage to BQ–an ENORMOUS feat in and of itself, mind you–at fast, flat courses like Chicago (my hometown race).  I’ve BQed four times now, and never on a flat course like Chicago, but when people hear about a BQ, they’ll likely ask you where you did it… especially because BQing is such a big deal for a lot of marathoners out there.  But generally, at least in my experiences, people who BQ on hillier courses (like San Fran or Boston) won’t snub people who do so on flatter, faster courses.  That’s just not what it–the BQ or the general running community–is about.

To be fair, I guess the WSJ writer did this slight snub in the context of the SF article, wherein he was talking about how much more slowly (11 minutes+) people have run SF than their usual paces or PRs; okay, point taken.  SF’s hills can be intimidating.  But then, the article goes on to nearly bemoan the fact that so few people sign up for, and BQ, at San Fran because of the course’s toughness–that people are more inclined to run quickly, and BQ, at the pancake courses of Chicago, Columbus, et al.  Maybe he was simply trying to say that SF isn’t as popular a race as Chicago or Columbus or many of the other flat courses out there simply because it’s tough, or because people perceive it to be tough, or have nightmares of having to run up those enormous hills we all remember seeing in episodes of Full House or on the rice-a-roni commercials.  If this was, in fact, his intention, I think the mere insinuation adversely clouded what he was trying to say… probably, that this is a tough race.

Many runners aim to run just one marathon–as a bucket list accomplishment–and once they do it, they’re satisfied.  No time goal, no BQ goal, just completion.  This is true for some, but not all (hi!), charity runners.  For a growing number of runners, however, they do one race, and then get the itch to see how much more their body can handle.  Maybe it means going for a BQ, or simply dropping time, or just racing more intelligently.  To see what they’re capable of, in terms of speed, it makes sense for them to go to a flat course, where they feel they can really rock it and fly.  For the folks who want a challenge with their marathon–who aren’t just satisfied with running 26.2 miles–I venture that they’re more likely to do the more “extreme” marathons…the ones with the net uphill, the trail races, the Pike’s Peak race, races that are known for their hills, Big Sur, Boston, that sort of thing.  To me, these type of marathon runners aren’t any better, or worse, than their counterparts who prefer to stick to flatter courses.  I think it’s inaccurate, if not disingenuous, to assert or insinuate that people who don’t go the “extreme” marathon routes and who, instead, stick to the urban or fast courses, are worse than their hard-core counterparts.

This contention makes me think of folks who argue that trail runners are better than road racers, or that ultramarathoners are better than “just marathoners.”  Honestly, it doesn’t matter.  Just because you prefer one “type” of race, or distance, over another doesn’t mean that you’re a more adept runner.  Hell, it’s like saying that just because you’re a 5k runner and not a marathoner, that you’re not a “real” runner.  Or that half-marathon runners are better than 10k runners.  It’s ridiculous.  The running community’s not about that; more often than not, runners are genuinely excited that people want to lace up their shoes and do something so inexpensive, and accessible, that can do wonders for their health and for their lives.   What we should more worry ourselves about, or lose sleep over, is the growing number of people in the USA who don’t regularly partake in ANY sort of physical activity–running or not–who will surely suffer unnecessary, preventable medical-related illnesses and diseases.  That’s what sports and health writers should be bemoaning… not that people are not “ballsy” enough to take on as challenging a course as San Fran.

Humility, or crashing and burning

Humility, or crashing and burning

As I write this, I’m excited to announce that I’m officially TAPERING for the 114th Boston, set to occur in 18 days.  Yeah, who’s excited 🙂

Last Saturday was our group’s last 20-miler at Waterfall Glen, a real running treat for Chicagoland runners, and last night was our hardest speed work-out of the season: 10 Yasso 800s with 2 minutes of active recovery in between each 800.  Saturday went pretty well, considering some obstacles (I’ll explain momentarily), but last night, eh, not so much.  Let’s just say last night’s session gave me a healthy dose of humility and a reminder to listen to my body when it’s trying to tell me something because if I don’t, I’ll crash and burn… and my, how I will burn!

About Saturday.  Some marathon training programs I’ve read or done suggest that only 1 20-miler is sufficient, given the cost-benefit risk that you take by doing such a long run before your LONG long run (hello, 26.2!).  Others say that you should actually do 3 or 4, or hell, even a 22-miler, just to give yourself that mental edge.  FF’s BB program had us do 3 20s in 6 weeks, all on hilly terrains, probably with the thinking that the hills would be good prep for Boston’s topography (right on) or that running 3 20s in 6 weeks would be comparable to fatigue our legs may be feeling in the final throes of the race.  Who knows.  I’ve done 3 or 4 20s before a marathon before, so it wasn’t too onerous… it just ate up most of my Saturdays for the past 6 weeks.

Anyway, last Saturday gave us some most excellent running weather — think shorts and a long-sleeve, once you’re warmed up — and as always, WFG provided the beautiful scenery.  My buddies and I (hi!) decided not to don the hydration belts, seeing as how none of us like to haul our own fluids, because our group assured us that we’d have fluids on the course 3 times, thereby giving us 6 times to get fluids throughout our 20 mile training run.  Sweet.  As the run wore on, circa mile 8 or 9, we learned that because of some logistical issue, we were only going to have fluids at the trailhead, a good 10.5 miles into the run and then again once we finished.  Needless to say, this threw a wrench in my hydration and gel plans, so Saturday became the “guts run” — just sucking up the guts to finish the darn thing.  (That, and the fact that my run quickly devolved into “Erin vs. her GI” so I communed with nature about 5 times over the course of 20 miles).

For finishing the Guts Run ... the Crag from Nickelodeon's GUTS!

(Thanks, Erin, for bestowing upon me the Aggro Crag… we all should have gotten it after the guts run!)  Thus, while Saturday wasn’t great, thanks to the fluid predicament or my GI challenges, it was fine.  Just a training run.  Better to have a shitty (pun intended) training run than one on race day, right?

As the week progressed, Chicago’s weather has been warming bit by bit, and on Wednesday night, nearly everyone in the FF BB group sported shorts and shirts, if not tanks or skin only.  I had been looking forward to this super challenging work-out all week in part because I’m a bit of a sadist but also because I wanted to see how I’d fare.

Well, Her Holiness Humility had some other plans for me.  Five repeats into the workout, I was feeling pretty good, but I couldn’t shake the lead-like feelings my legs had managed to form.  Repeat six, and I slowed down (enough to lose the folks with whom I had been running), but it was ok.  Then BAM – Her Holiness decided that I didn’t heed her sufficiently earlier so she was going to put me on my ass for repeats seven, eight, and nine … to the extent of running anywhere from 30 seconds-1 minute slower than I had all night (or all season!).  Wowza.  I managed to pull it together a bit more for my final repeat — thank you, ego — but still ran more slowly than my first 5 repeats but not as slowly as repeats 7-9.  A very slow, very leisurely cool-down later, and once I returned home for the night, I think I realized that my legs had never felt so shot before.  Ever.  I have a million theories as to how or why my legs had it in for me last night, but it’s probably unhealthy to overanalyze the situation.  Instead, I should just take it for what it is and move on.  Remember my story, folks, and take it as a reminder that when Her Holiness comes a-knockin’, you better be a-listenin’.

I tend not to overly-lament my shortcomings or egregiously celebrate my successes on this blog because I want it to be a resource to other runners out there.  I recounted these recent crash-and-burn episodes as a reminder to all of us out there, myself included: if you expect every single run to be better than the last, or if you think you’ll set a PR in every single race you enter, you will undoubtedly be disappointed about 99% of the time.  Some days are amazing “on” days because our bodies are feeling great; the weather’s perfect; or we just have a spring in our step for no apparent reason.  The same can be said for our “off” days.  Just because a few “off” days happen does not mean that our race performance is doomed, that we are poor, inferior runners, or that we should consider another sport.

Far from it.

What matters is that we learn from these “off” days–as much as we can, anyway–and perhaps more importantly, that we get back at it with as much enthusiasm and zeal that we bring to the sport on our “on” days.

If this stuff were easy, everyone would do it, right?