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That moment with yourself

That moment with yourself

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Obviously, folks of all different body shapes and sizes, speed, and endurance levels run and proudly wear the “runner” badge. I don’t necessarily think there’s one “look” of a runner, unless we’re talking about the pros whose livelihoods depend upon their running careers, but for the rest of us minions, the gamut is wide and plentiful. One thing that we all have in common, though, pros and minions alike, is our stubbornness type-A -ness bullheadedness determination to realize our goals, and our mini-goals, and our mini-mini-goals, maybe to a fault.

What do you do, then, when you’re fairly certain that said goals aren’t going to come to fruition when you want them to, like during a particular workout (low stakes) or, god forbid, during a race (anytime but that!?)

My inspiration for writing came from my workout yesterday, 9 miles with 8x800m with 2 minute recovery. I really enjoy track-style speedwork, probably more than any other type of run (with the exception of the long run… maybe. big maybe on that), and 800s are no joke. The workout is nice and tiring, it goes by really quickly, and its challenge constantly deceives me because I tend to come to the workout thinking, oh, it’s only _ miles total, even with some breaks. NBD.

Yesterday’s 800s were the first I had done since early July, when I had done 4, on a whim, and before I began training for my Chicago/NYC double; before then, I hadn’t done 800s, or this many of them, since the throes of my Eugene training, when it was about 8 degrees outside and windy as all get-out (thank you, winter in Chicago). To the best of my recollection, I believe yesterday’s 800s were also my one and only batch–if not the first since my high school track days–that I produced on an actual track, instead of the lakefront path.

Thanks, Google and the Chicago Park District, for the picture. Unfortunately, the track is a bit more beat-up than this picture lets on, but it's still pretty sweet to have a track accessible downtown.
Thanks, Google and the Chicago Park District, for the picture. Unfortunately, the track is a bit more beat-up than this picture lets on, but it’s still pretty sweet to have a track accessible downtown.

I wasn’t totally sure of my goals for the 800s, in no small part because I’m still not totally sure of my goals for Chicago/NYC. (Ed. note: start thinking about this). I thought I’d “do the best I can” and try to hit a 3:10-3:15 range, even though I’m *pretty sure* I won’t be aiming for that range in the fall, but hey, who doesn’t like a challenge, right? And, returning to my earlier point about runners being stupid determined to hit our goals for each run’s purpose, I didn’t *really* want to adjust my expectations, based on the heat (about 83-85 degrees) and humidity (50%+), even though I knew I should.

After my first four sets, wherein my times dropped, instead of remaining consistent (3:11, 3:15, 3:17, 3:20), my head started going for a tailspin. In a matter of 20 minutes, I went from this is going to be the best workout ever! I love running! I could do this forever! Rainbows! Unicorns! Children smiling! to Fuck this. I should stop. Seriously, Erin, just stop. No one will notice, know, or care. At the rate you’re going, you’ll be producing 4:xx in a couple repeats. Looks like Chicago’s gonna blow again this year. Looks like you’re on your way out with marathoning. Twenty minutes–that’s all it took.

Once I realized that the mental garbage was damn near sabotaging my run–and one that I really wanted to do well, because I really wanted some feedback–I became that person who talks to herself to get her to her happy place.

Yup; I had no choice.

My recoveries, which went from 100% jogs to walks and walk/jog mixes–which, again, I had to tell myself that I wasn’t “copping out” by letting myself walk to get my heart rate down (see earlier note about the weather)–went from me focusing not only on getting ready for my next two loops around the track, and getting my legs ready to roll, to mentally pscyhing myself out. What I told myself, what I had to tell myself, was the same stuff that I’ll tell my ~2.5 year-old daughter when she’s being a rascal: c’mon. Just try it. You’ll be fine. You can do this. Don’t worry. Just do it. You’re fine. You’re safe. I promise.

My head was in a dark and lonely place there in the hot and humid afternoon sun, and I knew that I would be beyond pissed at myself if I didn’t finish the workout, even if it blew and the rest of the repeats worsened even more.

And would you know… it worked.

Somewhere during my final four sets, I told myself (this time, mentally) that I had read somewhere a couple interesting things: 1) that smiling relaxes your whole body, and 2) don’t think of this run as something I “have to” do; this is most definitely something I “get to” do. I’m not sure of the validity of point one, but regardless, I periodically tried to smile during my final four 800s, which I’m sure made me look like a fool, but I think it worked.

It’s hard to have really negative and horrible thoughts coursing through your mind when you’re grinning like the Cheshire cat.

wouldn't be surprised if I also had the crazy eyes, too
wouldn’t be surprised if I had the crazy eyes, too

Reminding myself that chasing my running unicorns is something that I get to, not have to, do always, always, always knocks me squarely on my ass. I get so caught-up in my aforementioned unicorn pursuit that I periodically forget that there are larger things people deal with (myself included) day in and day out and that TONS of people would love to even have the opportunity to worry about their half-mile repeat times for an hour out of their day, instead of their typical anxiety-and-panic-inducing-fare.

The mental pep talks worked, and I brought the final four home in 3:13, 3:13, 3:16, and 3:13 (almost metronomic there… so close! damn). Compared to the last time I ran 8 800s, yesterday’s were nearly 3 seconds faster, on average. I finished feeling accomplished and also hugely grateful and happy that I was able to do this workout at all (see: earlier note about humility) and in a remarkably better mental place. Truth be told, I haven’t had an extremely mentally-trying workout (that I can recall) in this training cycle yet, so I’m glad I had this. They can suck, but they matter.

It’s these moments that we have with ourselves, that, as runners, we have to have with ourselves, that both show us and teach us that we’re capable of more than we know… even if it takes some self pep-talks that make us look a little strange.

Chicago

NYC marathon

What say you? What was your last workout where you had to have a moment with yourself? What’d you do, and did it work?

Perspective and mindfulness

Perspective and mindfulness

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Hard to believe August is already here, which means that now both Chicago *and* NYC are in fewer than 100 days. Chicago

 

NYC marathon

I began officially “training training” (you know, similar to when you’re in high school and you “like” someone… but then you “LIKE like” someone else) just about two weeks ago now, and so far, things have been going swimmingly. As I write in my DailyMile entries on an almost daily basis, I’m really concentrating on being present in the workout and not getting ahead of myself. When I’m in the throes of a hard tempo, or about to close out a long run, I’m training my mind to be THERE, in THOSE miles, and not thinking about how I might be feeling 20 minutes from now (especially hard when I’m doing speedwork and beginning to tire) or what next week’s workouts will be like.

It’s really hard, but it’s a work in progress.

To that (tangential) end, I’ve recently read two memorable articles about focus and perspective that I think merit sharing. The first, Pete Magill’s “Tao of Running” adorns my fridge these days–sorry, family–so that literally every. single. time. I open the fridge (or freezer) door, I’m reminded of a few really critical points that, well, really, are worth being reminded of on a daily basis. Truth be told, all his points are magnificent–not being hyperbolic here–but these last three just blow me away. I think I’m going to make mini photo-copies and stick them in my wallet or something. Behold:

“Prevent trouble before it arises. Put things in order before they exist.

I can’t count the times runners I’ve coached have complained about injury-prevention routines included in their schedules — they don’t have time, they just want to run, and besides, they feel fine. It’s roughly the same number of times those runners have complained about physical therapy bills, the loss of fitness while injured and the inability of injury-prevention exercises to double as injury-reversal exercises.

Do you have the patience to wait till your mud settles and the water is clear?

Fitness doesn’t happen in a day. Nor in a week, month or year. Fitness is a lifestyle. It happens the day you no longer seek it. It appears while you’re living it.

Failure is an opportunity. If you blame someone else, there is no end to the blame.

So let’s agree that this is the end. And the beginning. Yin and yang.”

I think these points strike me not necessarily because I’ve had a propensity for injuries (knock on wood) or that I’ve crashed and burned and failed miserably lately (though of course, not every workout is as successful as I want it to be); really, I think Magill’s points here really jibe with me because their overarching theme is one that I sometimes lose sight of once I get into my training grind–and that, my friends, is perspective.

Perspective is what keeps me coming back for more.

Even if one workout isn’t as effortless as I want it to be, if I recall where I was a year ago (or however long ago) when I attempted the same (or similar) workout, more often than not, I’m humbled.

And I quickly, quickly get over myself.

I think time, and experience, has gotten me to this place with my training, and with my running, in general, wherein I realize that “one bad workout (or race) does not a runner make”… or something. I distinctly remember poring over every single mile split, for every single training run, for many of my first marathons (lowballing here, but I was probably this way for at least my first 5). When I was in the final mesocycles of my Eugene training, I boldly proclaimed to the blogosphere that my training for mary #19 made me realize that I was no longer the same runner that I once had been. In the winter, with the guidance and encouragement of a ton of runners whose opinions (and friendship!) I value, I slowly began to look at my running on a more macro level and, in the process, began to appreciate the strides (ba-dum-CHING!) I had been making, and made, since… ever, and since resuming running post-childbirth.

Experience, and research, and time have all collectively made me a much smarter runner than I’ve been before, and what is likely a huge contributing factor to this new-found intelligence is a greater sense of perspective related to my running career.

Try it on for size.

Assuming you’ve made it this far through my diatribe, the partner to perspective that I’m working hard on cultivating is its cousin, mindfulness (or attention, whatever you’d like to call it). I mentioned this earlier, that I’ve been trying to stay in each moment of my run and not let my mind wander too much, particularly if I’m doing a workout with a very (time) specific goal in mind. We all know how crucial it is to pay attention and heed our racing strategy come race day, but what about all the other days of training that come before? How can we expect to be there mentally, when we’re expecting to execute, if we haven’t worked our mental muscle all along?

Enter “The Role of Attention in Racing,” taken from the blog, “The Logic of Long Distance.” Much like the Magill article, this article mildly blew my mind the first several times I read it. I don’t even want to summarize it much here, or give you my reaction to it, because I think you should read it now, before your next training run, and again in the days leading up to your target race. A preview (and this is before the really good stuff!):

Paying attention is crucial to the sport of distance running. I think we all know this intuitively: so much of racing and even training is sustaining a hard effort, and what sustaining requires is attention, first and foremost. You might even say that at a very fundamental level, attention and endurance are the same thing: as goes our attention, so we go.

Attention is a trainable quality — like the rest of our lives, it has an aspect that is inborn or genetic, but it is also governed to a great extent by habit. When we examine human attention carefully, we see two things immediately. First, it it is always directed somewhere. Common expression says that sometimes we aren’t paying attention at all — but this is never true. It’s more accurate to say that the attention is turned elsewhere than that it goes away entirely. Consciousness can be distracted or dissipated. It can lose focus and intensity, but it never quite goes away so long as we are conscious — even in sleep the attention conjures its own images to keep itself occupied. Second, we notice that the attention only rests on one thing at a time. [ … ] We never actually attend to two things simultaneously […]

So, when it comes to attention in the sport of running, the question becomes how can we optimally occupy the attention, given that it is firing constantly? How often should the attention shift? And to what should it switch when it does? Once we’ve answered these questions, we can then turn to the question of how to train these habits of attention.

Weekend reading, kids. Enjoy them both because they’re goodies. Promise.

What say you? What articles have you read online lately(that are at least tangentially related to running) that really struck a chord with you? Do you plaster them on your fridge, too?