Net gain
Life was such last week that it made the most sense to do my long run on Friday instead of the weekend. In the interest of time constraints, I figured I’d just run in ARP and try to connect together as much as I could before needing to get the kids in the afternoon; it was going to be one of those long-long run days.
I think one of Strava’s best qualities is how easy it is to see other people’s routes — which can be good or bad, for all the obvious reasons. In terms of figuring out local routes, especially ones that you may have not done before, it can be CLUTCH, and particularly when your friends, teammates, or acquaintances run where you do (or where you want to). I’ve never gone so far as to actually build a route before a LR in Strava (or in Garmin Connect, for that matter), but when I’ve seen other people’s runs in ARP that are different from what I’d usually do, I study the routes to try to commit it to memory so I can replicate it in the future.
Sometimes this works out well, and sometimes it doesn’t. Unsurprisingly. For all the obvious reasons.
A few weeks ago, on my first 20 of this training block, I ran from ARP into Open Space/Sierra Vista Preserve, something I’ve done before but not something I’ve done to the extent (or mileage) that I was hoping to do that day. I’m very familiar with ARP, but Open Space I’m admittedly less so, and only in certain sections. On that run, I took a route in OS that I had never taken before, and bless the other souls who affirmed that I was going in the direction I wanted to be going. It’s hard to get lost there, but we can surprise ourselves when we try hard.
At any rate, despite my best mental map memorizing attempts, I missed the turn to Vista Point. I was going in what I thought was the right direction, looking for the turn, and after it didn’t happen for what-seemed-like a while, I figured I’d cut my losses and turn around because by that point, by the time I finished, I’d have attained my mileage goal for the day. No harm, no foul.
I was super irked when I got home and looked at my route (and map) and saw that not only did I miss the turn, I missed it because I turned around too early, by what had to have been less than 400m. Minutes. If that.
One of the good (or not good) qualities to this long-stuff training though is the number of long-long runs, so by the following week — last week’s LR on Friday — I was determined to set out to accomplish that which I sought to the week before but messed up. 20(+), 22ish most likely, redux.
I’m pleased to say that this time around, I didn’t miss the obvious turn to Vista Point, but instead, this week’s learning opportunity was in the form of hydration, as I was underprepared for the distance I was attempting and ultimately phoned it in earlier than I had intended. Bless my husband’s soul for the ride, and I’m looking forward to mail day tomorrow (more bottles!).
If you look at the map for Vista Point, and particularly on Strava, you can see that it gets really close to the old, now-closed air landing strip. It’s pretty wild because on Strava, you see a long, gray rectangle — a landing strip — as clear as day. Looking around in Google Maps yields the same.
I’ve always been curious about it, ever since I first heard of it, and I wanted to see it for myself. I’m probably more interested in its back story, though seeing it would also be cool. Who used this? How long has it been shut down? Why here, out of anywhere else on the east side?
I don’t know what I thought I’d find, but I had put this run — run to the old landing strip — on my mental list of Runs I Want to One Day Do.
Because of the aforementioned hydration learning experiences from last week’s LR, I ended up hiking much more of this section of my LR than I was planning to, and in retrospect, I’m glad. The haul out to Vista Point was tough — that whole vista in the name is probably a decent giveaway — and I didn’t see a single soul out there. Some review online said that some of the grades were 15%, which seems extreme, but it was slow-going, for sure.
Eventually, though, I got to the end of the road, the end of the haul, and was met by lovely views that left me feeling like I was on top of the world. Mind you, there was no landing strip visible from where I was, even though I knew it was nearby, but I also didn’t want to trespass into very clearly labeled private property to satiate my strange interest in seeing something that has been defunct for who knows how long.
With a picnic table situated there at Vista Point to mark The End, part of me really wished I had brought a sandwich or a beer (I don’t drink, so I’m not sure why this occurred to me) or something because it was a pretty cool feeling to finally do that which I sought out to do and that which I’ve been thinking about doing for over a year now. It’s gratifying and humbling and memorable. And like a total nerd, I couldn’t help but hear Boyz II Men’s End of the Road blaring in my mental soundtrack.
I didn’t want to luxuriate in the moment for too long — especially since I was 12 miles into my run at that point and needed to start the return — but I wanted to at least take a second to appreciate that I got myself to where I was. Alexi Pappas talks about this a bit in her book Bravey, that one of her former coaches insisted that all his/her athletes, like Alexi, stop their runs and allow for a little lag time to transition from the run to whatever came next, if for no other reason than to afford themselves the opportunity — however small or fleeting — to appreciate that which they just accomplished: big sexy workout or shitty, sub-par run. It doesn’t matter. Appreciation and gratitude can take you far.
It was a hefty run for sure, even though I had also run 20 the week before and through most of the same route. The biggest difference, however, was that last Friday’s run took me an additional 40 or so minutes and included a ton more elevation, like 4300’ versus 3200.’ Plus, I finally ran what I’ve been thinking about running for the past year-plus.
I can be irked that I didn’t do a bigger-than-20 distance last week, or I can be satisfied with the greater time-on-my-feet and the elevation.
Likewise, I can be bothered that I bailed on the last 4 chill, downhill miles because I was feeling pretty wiped due to my hydration miscalculations, or (and?) I can be thankful that I had this experience, when I did, during training, so that I can plan more accordingly for the remainder of training and for actual race day.
I think it ultimately boils down to choice and what we decide that we learn, or take away from, our experiences.
Essentially, it’s what I tell my children and the children with whom I work. There’s so little that we can control in our lives, but the single thing that no one else can control for us is our attitude.
My view? Net gain. Without question.
Seven to go!
