run a marathon

Whew. So glad that’s over. It took me six hours and I am so happy I can check that off my list. I’m tired and sore, but glad to be home.

Tomorrow I celebrate the summer solstice by running my first marathon: the Mayor’s Marathon in Anchorage, Alaska. I have been training for this for 18 weeks (illustrated by the training calendars that adorn my bedroom door). In that time I have run 350 miles. I have run a total of 60 hours. Only 26.2 miles and maybe five hours to go.

I am a slow runner, so I will be satisfied with simply finishing. I’d like to run the whole distance, but I might have to walk part of it. Hopefully the race-day excitement injects some extra energy.

The race starts at 8 AM ADT if anyone wants to cheer vicariously. A live, geo-positioning, webcast would be cool, but I don’t think my technological expertise is sufficient.

I ran 13 miles on Saturday. At least it wasn’t snowing hard the entire time like it was last Saturday. It was still a tough run. I was doing well until about mile 9. Then coordination, concentration, focus and short-term memory all started to go. I went from running to jogging to lurching in the general direction of home—scaring small children who ran home to confuse their parents with Tales of The Bike Path Zombie. I had to walk the last mile. I was just too tired to lift my feet. You can see the degression in my mile splits:

10:08 – 10:53 – 10:48 – 10:34 – 10:49 – 11:37 – 12:00 (walked a bit at the half-way point to eat) – 10:51 – 11:32 – 11:29 – 13:08 – 13:27- 19:29

This run was roughly half a marathon and it took two and a half hours to complete, which means I am on pace to finish in five hours. I had hoped to do it in four. We’ll see what kind of improvement I can make in two months. The thought of finishing Saturday’s run and then turning around and doing it again is inconceivable. Like last Saturday, I got home, ate something, took a bath and then slept for about two hours.

I didn’t do either of the 6-mile runs on the last two Wednesdays. I taught both of those days and then taught a Bible study in the evening. There wasn’t much time. Tomorrow I don’t have that excuse, so I’ll be running seven miles. Hopefully that helps come Saturday, when I get a break and run a comparatively easy 10 miles.

Yesterday I ran ten miles. I am up to double digits! It went well. It’s interesting that my Saturday runs are more fun than my Wednesday runs even though they are at least twice as long. A few explanations suggest themselves. One is that I rest on Fridays but run three miles on Tuesday. Maybe I am more “psyched” up for Saturday. I run earlier in the day on Saturday. Or maybe I am more cautious in conserving energy with a longer run ahead of me.

I’ve always been interested in why some days are easier than others. Mood plays an important role. If the weather is nice and I’m in a good mood, then I run well. If I’m grumpy or depressed, it’s miserable. It also seems like I finish every run with just enough energy left, whether it’s three miles or ten. I imagine that eating also determines how much energy I have, but I haven’t really tracked that well enough to discern a pattern.

The hardest parts of a run are often the beginning and the end. At the beginning, I’m cold and thinking about how many long miles lie ahead of me. I get a little impatient thinking that I’m going to be doing this for the next 90 minutes—maybe I should have brought a book? Somewhere in the middle, I usually settle into a comfortable pace and my mind wanders. Other than the occasional steering correction, I’m mostly daydreaming and thinking about other things. The return trip is always faster—in my mind at least, I haven’t timed any splits—just like a car trip. It’s as if the first half of the trip is stretching out a rubber band. The second half just snaps back.

But sometimes, that last mile is hard. Possibly I have rationed just enough energy for the run so I am running on fumes by that point. Another theory is that I have run that same last mile of trail hundreds of times over the years—always at the end of a run. So maybe I have conditioned myself to feel tired when I see those trees, that lamp post, that wooden bridge, even if I’ve only run four miles.

Of course, I have also noticed that the temptation to give up often grows strongest just before the successful completion of any endeavor. It’s like some part of my brain tries to trick me by saying, “It’s OK, you’ve proved your point. Since you are so close, why don’t you just stop. No one will fault you for quitting this far into it. This is good enough.” This is not a friendly voice, though it sounds so kind and understanding. I used to think that grace meant overlooking the failures of others. I’m beginning to think that saying “It’s OK. So what if you quit/failed/lost your temper/slept with the intern? Nobody’s perfect” is actually the cruelest, most disempowering thing we can do. It’s as good as saying, “You really aren’t smart/courageous/talented/good enough to succeed. You should just quit and go home.” It demonstrates a lack of confidence in another. Caring about people means holding them accountable to their own values and goals. Being gracious means sticking by someone and encouraging them when they fail, not giving up on them and making excuses for them. It’s often a thankless job, but something that courageous people do for the people they love. So next time your friend sneaks a cigarette or your kid does a half-assed job cleaning his room or your spouse stops writing the Great American Novel, don’t say “It’s OK.” Demand that they put forth their best effort and succeed at what they have started. They may complain, but they will appreciate it. Just make sure it’s something THEY want to do or have agreed to do, not something YOU think they should do.

If I quit running before this marathon, I don’t want someone to pat me on the back and say, “Oh well, you did your best. You never were very athletic.” I’d rather a friend smack me upside the head and scream, “You said you were going to run a marathon! Now get your +(% out there and #*^$ start RUNNING you x%x#$!”

Years ago, when I was a camp counselor, one of our duties at the end of the week was to sweep the bare concrete floors of our cabin. But it was never enough to simply sweep once and and SAY we were finished. Randy, the camp coordinator, insisted on personally inspecting every cabin before we were free to leave for the weekend. And he didn’t just poke his head in the doorway and say, “Looks good. See you Sunday night.” No, Randy would get down on his hands and knees, whip out his flashlight and look under all the bunks. He would run his hands over the floor and if he felt any grit, he would say, “Do it over again.” Randy was not a harsh man. He is one of the kindest, most loving men I’ve ever known. And there was no way he was going to accept a mediocre job from his staff.

I think this was a tremendous gift to us. Sweeping that floor became a challenge. Passing an inspection on the first try was a source of pride. I usually swept that floor three times before I even considered looking for Randy. We didn’t sweep UNDER the bunks. We MOVED the bunks. On Saturday mornings, the screeching of children was replaced by the screeching of steel bunk beds being dragged across the cement floor in pursuit of cobweb-free corners.

When we passed that inspection, we KNEW we had done a good job. How many times in our lives do we really get that brutally honest and loving feedback that tells us we have done well? I imagine that many of us aren’t really 100% sure how well we are doing at work or at home. Even in school, I had teachers who were easy graders and those who were hard graders. I valued a B+ from the demanding teachers more than an A- from a “good enough” teacher. It’s always been a source of pride for me that no one in my high school graduating class had a 4.0 GPA. I was the valedictorian and even I had a B on my record. I scoff at these schools that have 6 valedictorians or students who boast of having a GPA greater than 4.0. All that tells me is that they weren’t challenged enough. Anyone who is living an easy life just isn’t trying hard enough. I’ll try to remind myself of that when I grind out that last mile. (And you thought I forgot this post was about running a marathon.)

Today I ran nine miles and felt good doing it. This is the furthest I’ve ever run. I beat my previous personal best of seven miles set only two weeks ago. I’m only about three weeks into my marathon training and I’m already running farther than I have before.

On Wednesday I only had to run four miles but I was dragging. Today I felt really good and only stopped or walked twice—once to put on my ice grippers when I reached the snowy part of the trail, and at the half-way point, when I scarfed down some raisins. Maybe it has something to do with eating half a box of spaghetti last night.

My pace was slow—about six mph, or 10-minute miles. I’d like to finish the marathon in four hours, so I’ll need to increase that pace to about 6.6 mph. But these long runs are about surviving, I can work on improving my speed on the shorter runs. Today I definitely felt like running 26.2 miles will be possible.

One of my goals for 2008 is to run the Anchorage Mayor’s Marathon on June 21. I started training yesterday and today I put my money where my mouth is and registered for the race. There’s no backing out now; I’m too cheap to forfeit the $60.

I’m using the novice training schedule from Hal Higdon. This is an 18-week program with short(er) runs on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday and long runs on Saturday. I started out with 3-mile runs, which is the distance I usually jog in the summer. In the summer. Right now it’s February and I live in Alaska. We have had unseasonably warm weather this week. It’s been up to 40 degrees and the snow is melting and freezing, so the streets and paths are very icy. I bought some ice grippers that fit over my shoes and they have worked well. The warm weather is comfortable, but I think the road conditions will be better once it snows again.

It’s been about six months since I last ran, so I had to take a couple walk breaks even on these short runs. I’m supposed to run six miles on Saturday but my church is going on retreat so I’m not sure how I will arrange that. I suppose that the discipline of setting and achieving goals is about overcoming the obstacles in between—even when (or especially when) it isn’t convenient.