What the Boston Marathon Means to Me

Running means something to each individual person; there is, I believe, no definitive, one reason why we all run crazy distances and miles week after week.  Some people run just because they are so talented and naturally gifted at the sport.  Some people do it to escape the reality of their own lives and just get away.  Some do it to constantly tug war with their waistline.  The reasons are longer than the distance between Hopkinton and Boylston Street.

The Boston Marathon is my chance for greatness.

I think greatness, albeit a relative term, is something I have craved for throughout my entire athletic career.  Anyone who knows me is cognizant of my extreme competitiveness.  For better or worse, I am excessively hard on myself.  To me, it is the only way I can improve, strive for more and be better than I am now.   Many can attest to the fact that I am seldom satisfied at the end of any race.  The only races I can be justifiably happy about are PRs.  Unfortunately, I haven’t had one of those since June.

This cross country season has been well documented in its utmost frustration.  While my last race was my best race of the season (and perhaps a PR effort at the always menacing  Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronx), I still left the season without ever breaking 28 minutes in the 8K.   Even with the (even more well documented) effort and work I put into the season this year, racing times never came together to what I had hoped.  Those results on websites and racing bibs I pin to the wall of my dorm room are painstaking memories of that brutal reality.

After running almost two minutes slower than my marathon PR at Boston in April of this year, and the lack of improvement this cross country season, that desire and need for greatness burns deeper than your legs and lungs at the summit of Heartbreak  Mountain Hill.

Going into this round of marathon training, there are some inescapable fears I have been dealing with.  The fear of maybe that, because I do not possess the natural running talent of some of my peers, that I have peaked as a runner to the point where I cannot improve any more.  Because of my lack of PRs lately, I can only quiver at that thought. Since I'm still a relative running fledgling and have only ran competitively for 2 1/2 years, I will not accept this as an answer. I know I can still improve. 

Yet, what hurts more, what thought is more suffocating than a 10 mile run in 100-degree weather, is the fear of failure.

Even if I must create my own enemies in my head, I have this undeniable necessity to prove as many doubters wrong as I can and achieve my goal.  I saw Boston last year as my chance for greatness and it didn’t happen.  I see Boston next year as one of my last chances for greatness and flat-out refuse to have it any other way.  Without breaking two hours and 40 minutes, or even earning a PR, any result is just a waste.                 

Maybe, likely, this entire path I must take to “prove” people wrong or attain what I think is something great is all in my head.

Maybe it’s selfish.

In the most brutal of candor, I don’t know what it is.  I don’t know why I am wholeheartedly compelled and possessed by under 2:40 in Boston.   Maybe I’m even running away (figuratively and literally) from my own failures which is why I must accomplish this feat.   What I cannot deny is that there is some hole inside that beckons me to do this one way and one way only. It's the way where I'll finally, after a near 22 years of existence, feel like I belong, feel like I've accomplished something magnificent, feel like a success.

That way is greatness.

Dear Legs

Dear Legs,

I’ve decided to run the Boston Marathon again this April.  I don’t know if you heard but the rumors are true.  Yes, you’re going to have a lot of stress under you these next five months.  Stop complaining; I just gave you five full days off.  Plus, at least I gave you fair warning this time.

Now, legs, I’m even going to tell you how I’m going to do it.   This way you’ll be extra prepared for what’s coming.  I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt this time.  I’ll treat you better. I’ll roll you guys out more.  I’ll stretch you guys out five times per day, instead of three.  And, yes, I’ll even give you a weekly ice bath, even though I loathe them.  Just get me from Hopkinton to Boston in less than two hours and 40 minutes and I’ll give you whatever you want.

Things are going to be a little different this time around.  First, those 20+ mile long run days; they’re now on Mondays.  Why? Because Boston is on a Monday. 

Remember those times where I told you that we would be running 80 miles per week in last year’s build up for Boston? I do, too. 

 I also remember not doing that.

We were closer to 70-75 than 75-80.  Not good.  As soon as the build up to mileage ends, we’re staying at 80 miles per week.  Don’t worry, at least one day will be six miles or shorter. 

 And, you may find this interesting, but I’m introducing something new to training this year: cross-training! That’s right.  While biking is the bane of both our existences, I won’t subject us to that.  Instead, we’ll be aqua jogging two nights per week.  Sorry, but that doesn’t excuse us from two doubles running per week either.  It’s four doubles now.

 Look, guys. I know it’s going to be tough.  Even tougher than last time.  But, do you want the glory? Do you want that feeling of invincibility after? The race is going to hurt as will the 12-mile tempo runs, 23-mile long runs and ice baths.  It all will.  But I promise you it will be worth it.  If you get me to under 2:40 that day, I’ll give you guys a full three weeks off, massages included.

Get me there in less than two hours and forty minutes, and I’ll repay you guys heavily.

Get me there in less than two hours and forty minutes, and I’ll be forever grateful.  

Future

The future is scary.  For runners especially, it can be petrifying.  The next race is cumbersome to think of.

The next training cycle already has me worried.  The next journey I take as a runner leaves me clueless as to what I can accomplish and if I can even accomplish it.

For me, I lament and relish my futures that care coming up sooner rather than later.

In the most immediate of futures I have the Metro Atlantic Athletic Conference (MAAC) Championships at the legendary Van Cortlandt Park in eight days.  My cross-country season so far has been a failure as I’ve attained zero of the goals I sought out for myself in the summer.  This one 5-mile race may be my last chance for some revenge.  This future marks an end of an era for me.

While cross-country may not be the best suited type of running for me, I will miss it terribly once I complete my last race as a member of the Marist College cross-country which is either in two weeks or four.  It was the most challenging experience of my life.  Upon entering the squad, my coach (on the relatively older and slower side) could beat me in a 10-mile race.

Now? Well, I’m still pretty slow, but not that slow.  I can hold my own with the team which I had never really been able to do before.  That doesn’t mean they’re kicking my ass every day in workouts, long runs and races. 

Will I miss it?

Absolutely.

I enjoy, and am thankful for, the challenges cross-country have bestowed upon me.  Running with faster people every day has obviously transformed the type of runner I am.  Lining up with these talented runners is a major reason I have been able to accomplish what I have in running three years as a Red Fox.  While this day is soon coming to an end, I am forever thankful for the opportunity to carve out my own running history and be a part of such a venerable squad of runners and be coached by someone who knows more about the sport than I do about my own self.

In the not-so-but-almost immediate future I begin training for the 2012 Boston Marathon, which will be my 6^th overall marathon and 2^nd one at Boston.  Last year, I had high hopes at breaking 2:40.  It didn’t happen.  This year, I’m starting out no differently with the goal I set out for last year.  I crave breaking 2:40.  It consumes me and it’s a possessive goal that leaves me to yearn for nothing else.  I relish the difficulties marathon training in the middle of winter will bequeath upon me, but am simultaneously terrified of the alternative: failure.

As documented on this very blog, lots of mitigating factors led to my demise in Boston.  It could be a plethora of things that got in my way, but the sheer thought of not accomplishing this goal again is crushing.  There’s nothing I want more than to see the first two digits of that clock when I cross the finish line at Boylston St. read “2:3x:xx”.  Many things could again get in the way of me not breaking 2:40 this time around.  Only the future knows what will happen. 

At long last is my future running career.  I know that it won’t actually be my career as I’m not professional-caliber.  I’m far from it, and that’s okay.   I may have a lot of time when I graduate because I may be unemployed.  I may have no time as I’ll be starting my professional career, whatever that may be.  I don’t know yet.  What I do know is that I want to achieve some level of greatness; there will always be a competitor in me trying to get PR after PR and improve to be the absolute best runner I can be.  While life and the future may tug me the other way, I’m not done with this sport yet.

There’s still a future for me out there in running.

As long as there’s another race, there’s hope. 

Questions without answers (yet)

This year of cross country was supposed to be “the year”.  I had finally decided to dedicate myself to cross country only (instead of doing cross country training with marathon training) and seeing what I was capable of.  I wasn’t sure if I could pull off a 27:30 (or even sub 27-minute) 8K or if I were just doomed to not be a solid Division 1 cross country runner.  I put in the work over the summer by running 70 miles a week from June-July.  I put in the work in the earliest parts of the season by running 80 miles a week for most of August and all of September.  In workouts, I was tearing it up.  I was even put in the middle workout group for the first time in my life, when I was always in the slowest one.

The middle group!  After two years of going through a daily Sisyphean struggle of trying to move up from the slow group, I had finally been promoted and adapted quite well.  Being able to hold on in workouts like hill repeats and tempo runs were attainable.  Not only was I elated, but also confident and ready to rip some good times. 

Once racing began, things weren’t so dandy.

My first race, a little 5K to begin the season, went solid.  I knew I wasn’t a 5K runner anyway but was happy with my result.  My first 8K was a complete and total disaster; albeit the course’s footing was like soft sand at the beach, and I was without spikes, I had one of the worst races I could have ever imagined.  The chance to redeem myself was Friday at the prestigious Paul Short Run at Lehigh University in Pennsylvania.  Again, things did not go well.  I faltered too hard late.  While I ran over 80 seconds faster at Lehigh than my first 8K in Connecticut, I had expected to run even better, as did everyone else.  It was summed up as “solid” by my coach.

“Solid” wasn’t what I wanted when I decided to solely focus on cross country this year.  I wanted great.   I had aspirations and dreams of completely transforming the type of runner I was, finally grasping that speed I so longingly craved for and becoming a respectable 8K runner. 

I haven’t reached that yet.  I don’t know whether or not I am physically capable of such accomplishments on the 8K course.  I may only be able to reach such prosperity on the roads as a marathon runner.   I may just be slow. 

In all honesty, I have no idea yet of what I’m capable or not capable of.  After two months at 75-80 miles a week or above, I’m dropping my weekly mileage to around 65 miles per week to try and get some more speed.  I have the strength, as I’ve always had, but now comes the time to hone the speed if I even have any.   With two more races coming up and my training style being totally altered, we’ll see  if I can be a respected 8K cross country runner, if I have speed, if I’m more than just a marathon runner.  Time will tell whether or not it’s “the year”.  If it isn’t the year, it’s impossible to look at the hard work and not think you’ve failed when you’ve done what you’re supposed to do, worked yourself harder than ever before and not have much to show for it.  If that’s the disappointment I’m destined for, I have no idea how I’ll ascertain that caustic reality. 

Or, perhaps I do.  If it’s not “the year”, I’ll make sure it’s “the year” when I begin my training for the Boston Marathon in early November. 

Runner's Will, Runners Will

I’m going to try my best to shy away from the clichéd, “YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU WANT TO!” posts that we see all over the runner's portion of the blogosphere.  While I do enjoy them and find them necessary in our times of weakness and doubt, I sometimes find them repetitive.  I may fail, but I will make a valiant effort anyway. 

Some days I hate running.

Saturday was one of those days.

Five miles was all I had to get through that day.  Just an easy 33 minutes or so (that’s runner’s precision for you).  The day before I ran 12 miles and the next day called for a 16-mile long run, so it was my short day for the week.  Yet, those 5 miles saw proverbial cinderblocks tied to my back and calves; I couldn’t get into a rhythm.  My breathing wasn’t even normal and I have never had a problem with my breathing.  Sunshine and its usual summer accomplice, humidity, infiltrated my skin and left me shower-drenched.  My right shin engendered just enough foreign feeling to it to leave me frightened it was the onset of shin splints. Or even worse, its merciless twin brother, the stress fracture.  I even stopped, turned around to head back home and then turned around again to finish the run.  To put it kindly, I was miserable.  There were countless activities I would have much preferred that Saturday than running, and yes, getting my teeth cleaned were one of them. 

Even mentally I was gassed from the five miles.  It was totally unlike me.  Even worse was the thought of running 16 miles the next day.  I labored over skipping it, thinking I needed to rest my shin and my mind from the physically and mental demand of running 75 miles a week.  I chalked it up as a bad day, as all runners have them reluctantly, and decided to see what Sunday brought to the table.

Sunday, well, was no Saturday.

Usually Saturdays are better than Sundays.  You can sleep in on Sunday.  It’s the official weekend day where you don’t have to work the next day.  You can catch up on errands, sleep, your favorite TV shows, and just relax.

But this Sunday left me fresh and ready to go.  The short day rested my legs big time.  The shin felt fine.  The weather was significantly cooler and there was cloud cover, which led to perfect summertime conditions for a 16-mile long run.  And, to boot, I finished the meandering hilly 16 miles in 1:43, a respectable 6:27 pace per mile.   Even better was that I preferred the run over the teeth cleaning this time.

So what happened?

Well, I have a theory.

This has been preached countless times, but runners are truly a unique breed of human being.  Their dedication to their sport and overall health is unequivocal.  When the loud majority roars about the banality of running, the damage it does to your knees and the waste of time such a hobby can be, the runner politely nods his head, and goes out for 8 more miles.  They don’t typically miss days for 100-degree weather, or 10-degree weather, or pouring rain, or sleet.  Hence, the origin of the title for this post.

The runner’s will is an intangible trait that I argue is only attained by runners themselves.  It’s a screaming voice in their brain, stomach, soul or wherever inside of them that beckons an unrequited commitment to getting out on the trail, roads and track.  Even at the lowest of points (in my case, Saturday) they do not falter.  Instead, they come back stronger, ready to efface their doubts from the previous day.  There’s no lack of fight in the runner’s will.

Runners will persevere, and they’ll have it no other way.  Be it by accomplishing a lifetime goal, beating cancer, losing weight or rebounding from bad days, runners will not ever, EVER take no for an answer or give up.  Even if they’re old and slow, they’ll still be out there, enjoying the time out for a jog.

I have that runner’s will.  I started out from nothing as a runner. As a shy, unconfident, kid who always had to buy the husky jeans as a young child, then ballooning to a 5’5”, 170-pound freshman in high school, I transformed myself into a 5-time marathon runner and member of a venerable Division I cross-country program.  Sure, I’m at the bottom of the depth chart and I’m a walk-on, but I still earned that spot on the team.   I write it to accentuate how the runner’s will can captivate and transform and do wondrous things, even making miracles.   If it can transform me, it can do the same to anyone.

Being that I am a runner, I will persevere.  I’ve had plenty of bad days this summer.  I’m not a heat guy.  Heat is my Kryptonite when I run.  I’ll take extreme cold over extreme heat for a run almost any day.  Yet, even with all those bad days I’ve had this summer, and ones previous, I have bounced back and returned, usually stronger.  Knowing the goals I’ve set out for myself this fall and spring, it’s not going to be easy.   No, not easy at all.  In fact, it’s going to require a full-time, 100% commitment to those goals if I even have a chance of achieve them.  Running a 27:30 8K and 2:40 marathon?  Without an unshakable work ethic and dedication, there’s no chance of me getting anywhere close. 

Thankfully, I learned something about myself this Saturday that should help.

Runner’s Will, Runners Will. 

Pensive about preseason

There are few things that are simultaneously invigorating and horrifying. Preseason is one of them. 

On the 21^st of this month, I’ll be driving back down to the pristine and unmatched campus of Marist College and checking into Champagnat Hall with the rest of my teammates.  It’s something I’ve looked forward to ever since I left school in the middle of May.

August 22^nd is the start of preseason for the Marist College men’s cross country team, of which I’m a proud member.  Every year going into preseason has been a wildly different experience for me.  Sophomore year saw me delve into the world of competitive running for the first time.  To say that preseason then was overwhelming is a severely drastic understatement that doesn’t begin to do my fear justice.  I survived, but barely; here was a kid (yours truly) who was overweight for 17 of 19 years of his life at that point running daily with high school state champions, Junior Nationals participants and even a national high school champion.  Let’s just say that first month was not the smoothest of transitions.

Junior year saw me out of shape compared to everyone again. I had a rough summer of training for personal reasons and only had one 60-mile week in me before I started.  Through a miracle, I survived and performed well in preseason and throughout the entire cross-country season, adding a fancy 2-minute PR to my 8K time, which now stands at 28:29.

My plan this summer was to put in the heavy mileage early and be strong and ready to roll once late August came around.  Strides were finally going to be a daily thing (as were drills), my long runs would be shorter but faster (in relation to my marathon training, of which I am most accustomed to), my workouts would be more intensive, and I’d be an unstoppable machine.  And why wouldn’t I?  After three-and-a-half months of marathon training, then getting an extra month to build up for summer compared to last year, there was no reason why I shouldn’t just be rolling through right now.

Well, it’s now August 3rd.  My mileage has been significantly higher in relation to other summers.  I’m already at 70 miles per week and didn’t hit that number until late September last year.  I’m doing strides and drills when I can.  My workouts are incomparable to those last summer. All should be great.  If anything, I should be in the best shape of my life, or close to it.

Except that I’m still petrified of preseason.

Three years in a row, around this time, I begin to grow more and more anxious.  I know I just wrote about how training by myself will eventually pay off for me this cross-countryseason, but that same fear of being good enough, doing enough, working hard enough is inescapable with preseason coming so soon. 

The bitter, biting, inconvenient, name-your-cliché-here truth is this: I’m not a good cross country runner.  In fact, I’m actually a pretty bad cross country runner, especially if you compare my times to those of myteammates. 

Running with my teammates is a privilege because of their supreme talent.  I’m thankful for the camaraderie, support and opportunity they give me to become better every day.  Yet, being around such talented runners, and being a part of a Division I program and ascertaining the demands it brings, engenders its personal doubts.  It’s no different than training for a marathon, half-marathon or any race you’re training for.  The same mitigating questions linger in our brains and fester and pick at us menacingly as we get closer and closer to what we're training for.  Is it overwhelming? You bet.

For preseason, I question whether I’m ready.  Whether or not I’ve finally put in the requisite work to be a solid cross country runner and no longer be at the bottom of the pack during workouts and races remains a mystery. 

I guess I’ll find out during preseason, impatiently waiting until then. 

Why training alone will help me this cross-country season

Summer training.

For cross-country runners, it can make or break a season.  If you log too many miles in the summer, your body will inevitably pay you back with either burning out or an injury.  If you slack off during the summer, your coach and teammates will see that day one of preseason and you’ll be playing catch-up for months.  Summer training is a delicate balance between dedication and temptation.

Especially if you’re training alone.

Most of my teammates have the luxury of living close to or nearby teammates (or even old high school friends and teammates) to train with over the summer. They can discuss workouts and provide each other company on long runs.  Sadly, I don’t have this luxury.

The closest I live to one of my teammates is a good hour away.  We both are full-time interns working 40 hours a week, so getting together with him would take more effort than running by myself.  This is nothing new, either; the last two summers have been solitary out on the roads for me, so I’m used to it. The past two summers however, I eschewed the thought of going out on my daily run alone, especially because I was so used to running with other people.

Yet, this summer, either I’ve approached it with a different attitude or seen something I hadn’t realized, which is the value in training alone to the point that it will even benefit me for the upcoming cross-country season.  Here’s why:

Toughness

This summer, more than any other one previous, has been a true grind to get in my weekly mileage.  Not only am I training at a much higher level this summer than I have been in the past, but I’m working a full-time internship 40 hours a week while also commuting 90 minutes per day.  With 9 hours devoted to work, another 1.5 devoted to commuting, running is the last thing I want to do afterwards, but it’s the first on my mind.  Training at a mentally compromised state will make you stronger. I promise that.

But that’s not all.  As aforementioned, all of my teammates have old friends or current teammates to train with every summer.  Half of the team lives on Long Island, so they routinely get together for long runs on nice trails and workouts with no hills.

Me? Every single day, I’m out there alone. I don’t have that support group telling me, “OK, it’s  6 p.m., time to go for a run.  Nobody at home would know that I didn’t run a particular day because I was “tired” or “didn’t feel like it”.   If anything, running alone has toughened me up dramatically, a trait I desperately need for the latter miles of the 8K.  Having that support system that I have at school vanish during the summertime is dangerous.    It’s just as easy to not run than to run every day when you’re training alone.  You’re your own coach, teammate, critic and support system, and entirely independent.

Terrain

Living in the Adirondacks means one thing: hills, and lots of them.  I’m inadvertently getting stronger every day because I run on hilly terrain.  On a typical 10-mile run, I’ll go through an elevation change of close to 750 feet.  That’s a lot for an easy distance day.  And that’s the flattest place I run.  Hills are a blessing in disguise; you loathe them with the utmost of passion daily, but on race day you’re thankful for having trained on them day after day. 

Focus

I’ve been able to focus every workout, long run or off day based on my schedule.  While I do have my coach who guides my summer training, I’m primarily able to tailor my workouts based upon my own feeling.  Am I feeling a little worn down? I’ll take an easy day today.  Feeling strong? Maybe I’ll hammer today, or move my workout up a day.  It’s hard to do that when you’re one of 35 on a team.  Most of my teammates and I usually do our workouts on the same day or follow the same schedule.   I’ve had some freedom to become creative with my schedule and try new types of training.  The result has been a few findings as to what works for my body and what doesn’t that I was oblivious to before.

Volume

The volume of training this summer has been incomparable to summers past.  A little detail that my teammates may not know; I only had one (yes ONE) 60-mile week last summer, and that was the week prior to preseason.  The rest were in the 50s.  I had to play a little bit of catch-up myself last summer, which wasn’t fun.  This year? I’ve been at a consistent mid 60s level since June, am on pace to hit 70-75 this week and am ready to hold it at that until I bump it up again at preseason.  The extra mileage will assuredly help me get into shape faster, barring injury.  Taking ice baths and stretching three times a day will go a long way to ensure that I stay healthy, which I have been doing. 

That doesn’t go without saying that this summer’s training has been immensely difficult.  To find the time and energy to run after long hours at the office is no easy feat.  No I see why so many adults with real jobs and families have trouble finding the time.  I have a newfound appreciation for those dedicated runners out there who still run daily despite being a caregiver or working even longer days than I am. 

Putting in this work over the summer has given me more confidence that I’ll be able to achieve my goals this upcoming season.  They’re not easy and will require everything I have, another reason why I go out there every day; I want to achieve so badly.  I want to prove those who have doubted, including myself.  I need to prove my legitimacy as a Division I runner.  This summer training along will (hopefully) guide me there as preseason starts in just 3.5 short weeks, where I’ll be ready to run.  Plus, it’s going to be pretty nice to run with my teammates, too.