(Seemingly) Fatal Errors
Surprisingly enough I feel okay this morning. After yesterday's (seemingly) fatal training error, I thought I'd be a lot worse off today. In one short week, I increased my long run from six miles to ten. Not only did I run a fast eight on Tuesday, I decided to go a slow ten yesterday. So, in addition to lengthening my long run, I also nearly doubled my weekly mileage from a wimpy ten or twelve to twenty. For the uninitiated, these are two monster no-no's. 'They' (the running Illuminati) would shake their heads and tsk a few times in disdain before loudly telling me that I'm fucking stupid. Especially at the ripe old age of forty-two after not running for twenty years and with a paltry three month running base. Eh... Like I've ever cared what 'they' think.
I've had running coaches before. Two of them actually. At the same time. One was conservative and liked to shove me around on training runs. I think he was secretly jealous of my simmering talent (at twenty-four, I showed far more promise in my rookie runs than he ever had in his multi-year running career) and while he never directly led me astray, he didn't push me like I thought he could have. My other coach was a little more free and easy with me. He acknowledged my talent and encouraged me to run short and fast. They had me train with better, faster, and more experienced runners. I learned by example and by survival. The guys I trained with, including my coaches, Dave and Ed, were the first to tell me I was good, so good that my potential was seemingly unlimited.
They tossed around terms like 'Olympic Trials' and 'Marathon' and '1996'. In the meantime, I was supposed to run short and fast. I had to drop my 10k PR to sub 36:00 before I even thought about focusing on longer distances. Oh, I ran the occasional ten miler or half marathon, but I was to stay scope locked on the 10k. Unfortunately to the wildly anorexic, short and fast doesn't burn enough calories. Runs of ten miles or more and long two-a-days burn calories. Less than a year after starting my running career, I decided I was ready to train for a marathon.
My coaches disowned me and made it clear that I was fucking up royal. I should stay focused, build my base, run fast, and make a name for myself as the woman to beat in the 10k in the state of Kansas. I should wait a year, maybe two, before I increased my distance. The problem for me was multi-faceted - (1) I hated (HATED) speed work, but to run fast I had to run fast, (2) I was tired of the pain. Fast = pain. Distance = easy, even if it meant battling near constant boredom, and (3) the aforementioned calorie burning issue.
For me, training for a marathon was a no-brainer. I could go the distance. I'd already run twenty-four miles for fun on my twenty-fourth birthday. My previous long run? Fifteen miles. I took this as a sign. I was built for distance, the longer the better. I set my sights on the Wichita Marathon to be held in October 1993. This meant training long, long distance through a hot, humid Kansas summer. I shrugged and just did it. I don't remember ever worrying about the heat; I flipped off the 'black flag' (intended to warn about a dangerous heat indices) as I ran through campus.
Yeah, well... I trained hard and won the marathon. I also broke my leg sixteen miles in and had to give up running for five months afterward. I won a couple more races before quitting the sport all together in the fall of 1994. Some may say I ruined my running career by attempting the marathon too soon. Some may say I'd have easily qualified for the '96 Olympic Trials (truthfully I almost did at Wichita... if only the leg hadn't broken). Some may say I'd now be running among the world's elite Masters. I say the anorexia would have killed me long before I accomplished any of that. Quitting running when I did saved my sanity and my life.
So, was going against common running wisdom back in 1993 a good or a bad thing? It's all in where I choose to find Grace. Grace for me is running healthy now twenty years later. I still don't like the pain of running fast and I'd much rather endure 10+ miles of sheer boredom than hit the track for speed work. And that's why I once again decided to veer off the well beaten path and begin distance training far sooner than I should. I wouldn't recommend this particular sack of cats to just any runner, but I know me and what my body can do (Apparently. Given that after yesterday's potentially fatal error, I can still walk today).
Even while acknowledging my talent, the Illuminati always wanted me to be like everyone else. I'm not, nor have I ever been. Now, anorexia-free and in control of my sanity, there's no telling what I can do as a runner. I may stay firmly in the middle of the pack and never rise to the greatness once predicted. Or maybe I will. There's just no telling.
I've had running coaches before. Two of them actually. At the same time. One was conservative and liked to shove me around on training runs. I think he was secretly jealous of my simmering talent (at twenty-four, I showed far more promise in my rookie runs than he ever had in his multi-year running career) and while he never directly led me astray, he didn't push me like I thought he could have. My other coach was a little more free and easy with me. He acknowledged my talent and encouraged me to run short and fast. They had me train with better, faster, and more experienced runners. I learned by example and by survival. The guys I trained with, including my coaches, Dave and Ed, were the first to tell me I was good, so good that my potential was seemingly unlimited.
They tossed around terms like 'Olympic Trials' and 'Marathon' and '1996'. In the meantime, I was supposed to run short and fast. I had to drop my 10k PR to sub 36:00 before I even thought about focusing on longer distances. Oh, I ran the occasional ten miler or half marathon, but I was to stay scope locked on the 10k. Unfortunately to the wildly anorexic, short and fast doesn't burn enough calories. Runs of ten miles or more and long two-a-days burn calories. Less than a year after starting my running career, I decided I was ready to train for a marathon.
My coaches disowned me and made it clear that I was fucking up royal. I should stay focused, build my base, run fast, and make a name for myself as the woman to beat in the 10k in the state of Kansas. I should wait a year, maybe two, before I increased my distance. The problem for me was multi-faceted - (1) I hated (HATED) speed work, but to run fast I had to run fast, (2) I was tired of the pain. Fast = pain. Distance = easy, even if it meant battling near constant boredom, and (3) the aforementioned calorie burning issue.
For me, training for a marathon was a no-brainer. I could go the distance. I'd already run twenty-four miles for fun on my twenty-fourth birthday. My previous long run? Fifteen miles. I took this as a sign. I was built for distance, the longer the better. I set my sights on the Wichita Marathon to be held in October 1993. This meant training long, long distance through a hot, humid Kansas summer. I shrugged and just did it. I don't remember ever worrying about the heat; I flipped off the 'black flag' (intended to warn about a dangerous heat indices) as I ran through campus.
Yeah, well... I trained hard and won the marathon. I also broke my leg sixteen miles in and had to give up running for five months afterward. I won a couple more races before quitting the sport all together in the fall of 1994. Some may say I ruined my running career by attempting the marathon too soon. Some may say I'd have easily qualified for the '96 Olympic Trials (truthfully I almost did at Wichita... if only the leg hadn't broken). Some may say I'd now be running among the world's elite Masters. I say the anorexia would have killed me long before I accomplished any of that. Quitting running when I did saved my sanity and my life.
So, was going against common running wisdom back in 1993 a good or a bad thing? It's all in where I choose to find Grace. Grace for me is running healthy now twenty years later. I still don't like the pain of running fast and I'd much rather endure 10+ miles of sheer boredom than hit the track for speed work. And that's why I once again decided to veer off the well beaten path and begin distance training far sooner than I should. I wouldn't recommend this particular sack of cats to just any runner, but I know me and what my body can do (Apparently. Given that after yesterday's potentially fatal error, I can still walk today).
Even while acknowledging my talent, the Illuminati always wanted me to be like everyone else. I'm not, nor have I ever been. Now, anorexia-free and in control of my sanity, there's no telling what I can do as a runner. I may stay firmly in the middle of the pack and never rise to the greatness once predicted. Or maybe I will. There's just no telling.
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