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Giddyup

Giddyup

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Well, well, well.

Here we are again.

After a busy winter and spring racing season, and a summer’s worth of hard workouts, in some unbelievable weather that will surely worsen in my mind as I age (cue the “when I was your age, I ran outside when it was 120 degrees! In long sleeves! And I LIKED IT!” old lady voice), and under a respectably challenging training plan (thank you, Mr. Pfitzinger), we’re entering the final countdown: Chicago Marathon race week.

Chicago

You might recall, when I last ran Chicago in 2010, I swore that I was going to hang-up my Chicago marathon shoes for a while. Each year that I had raced Chicago, or attempted to, I had shit weather and, as was the case in 2010, it was warm **and** I was about 10-12 weeks pregnant. I thought for sure that Chicago and I simply weren’t meant to be and that perhaps we would be romantically reunited years later, perhaps when I was in the glorious 40s or 50s decade of my life and the weather had returned to something that looked more like crisp Midwestern autumn than steamy Midwestern summer. Though I had committed to NYC early this year,  after several weeks of my run buddy Ken convincing me that I needed to run Chicago this year as well, I finally, and somewhat begrudgingly, gave in.

Now, I couldn’t be happier with my choice.

I expect to look like this on 10/13.
I expect to look like this on 10/13.

Doing a marathon double in one season isn’t new to me, but this year, Chicago has a whole different meaning. This year’s Chicago marathon will mark my sixth year of this wild marathoning business, my fourth go at my hometown race, and, astonishing to me, my 20th marathon. The statistics are less important than the real, unquantifiable value I’m ascribing to this race, though; in simple terms, this will probably be my last opportunity to run Chicago for a very long time, thanks to my family’s impending relocation to Silicon Valley.

stock-photo-funny-silicon-valley-welcome-sign-77782060Running Chicago in 2013 will essentially be me closing the “Chicago life” chapter of my book, the chapter that has lasted for the majority of my adult life, over the last decade-plus. It blows my mind to think that I’ll soon be leaving the place I’ve called home since I was 18 years old, the place where, quite honestly, I’d be happy to live until the day I die, but life happens, and some opportunities are too good to pass up.

So… Chicago. Let’s talk.

I’ve basically viewed this training cycle as an unofficial extension, if not elaboration, of what I did for Eugene in the spring. The biggest difference was mileage; for Eugene, I followed Pfitzinger’s 55/12 and used the 70/12 long run prescribed weekend mileage, while this time around, I followed the 70/12 from start to finish, missing only 3-4 days (one due to sickness and the others [easy recovery days] due to the ‘life happens’ category). I’m going into Chicago 2013 feeling well, rested, confident, and knowing, much like I did for Eugene, that I’m a different runner and racer now than I was before. Of course, whatever happens, happens, and that which I can control, I will, so all that’s left to do now is wait and continue “doing life.”

I’m also at the point in my training and taper where I’m visualizing the race a lot, more than I usually do (hey, anything to build confidence–forthcoming post on that one), and I’m deliberating my race plan and race goals. At this point, I can provide two somewhat explicit goals:

  1. go sub-4, which would be a first for me in Chicago (see earlier comment about hot weather and pregnancy) and
  2. blaze the eff outta the course FOR ONCE and go sub-3:20, thereby PRing on my hometown course, one that I will likely not run again for years.

Anything can happen during a marathon–that’s what makes it exhilarating, terrifying, gratifying, humbling, basically the gamut of human emotion–and acknowledging my big goals kinda takes me along that same emotional trajectory. I’ve written about this before here, in my lead-up to the last time I ran Chicago, and every time I get fired up about a goal that I have, my mind always leads back to Matt’s awesome post on burning the fucking boats (my paraphrase). If I don’t give myself the opportunity to go all in, to put it all out there and not look back, I’m already doing myself a disservice.

Having the confidence in myself, in my training, and in my running and racing experience will help me toe the line on Sunday, positive that I’m in the best physical shape of my life and both mentally **and** physically well-positioned to accomplish and realize that which I want to.

Marathons are always personal, but this time around, it’s personal on a whole new level; it’s a mutual break-up with my home, a “see ya later,” even though neither of us really knows when our paths might meet again. I want to be as good to my city and its race course on Sunday as she has been to me since I came here in August 2002, fresh from high school and ready to begin college and life in the “big city.”

My remaining time in my fair city will no doubt be a whirlwind of activity and emotion, but for starters, I couldn’t be more excited to run my home in a week and proudly represent Team Bootleg Runners Coalition (BRC FTW, whaaaaaaaaat!). If you’re going to be running or spectating on Sunday, drop me a line, and I’ll keep an eye out! Thanks a ton in advance for your support 😉

What say you? Have you ever run a race that marked the end of one chapter of your life and the beginning of another? Am I the only one who thinks like this? Are you SO EXCITED to race this fall?!! Tell me everything!

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?