Pollen is controlling the world. How'd your runs go in spite of the green air monster?
Every once and a while we get a reminder that everything that we value is ephemeral: that wonderful, beautiful dog that finally found its permanent home with your family became too long for this world. The antique glass that was hand-blown years ago is temporarily in a state of order; eventually entropy will irreversibly increase and the glass will be reduced to minute shards. The diamond engagement ring that you spent hours to pick out and months to finally pay off will one day be graphite. Even the man atop Everest will have to come back down eventually. Some day we'll no longer be running.
Coming to the realization that all we know will cease to be is often uncomfortable; the fact that nothing we do will last can be interpreted any number of ways. The defeatist argues that the notion that impermanence begets irrelevance: if nothing will last, what's the point of ever creating it? The cynical mind will point out that the effort far outweighs the benefit: if nothing will last, what's the point in putting forth the effort? The nihilistic will question whether of any of this matters at all.
It matters.
Back sometime in February I was out for a run and had a song come on and really speak to me for the first time in a while. The song was The Hold Steady's 'Chicago Seemed Tired Last Night', a song that according to my iTunes library is one that I've listened to a total of 32 times since it was added to my library in April 2010. I tend to not focus on music when running, but for whatever reason the song caught my attention on this particular morning, and as I listened I heard a sort of evangelical runner's mantra in the lyrics (the song itself is largely a meta-synopsis of The Hold Steady's particular brand of narrative lyricism). More importantly for me, the story told in the song itself is full of the sort of allusions and self-referential asides that always end up bleeding into my stories.
'We mix our own mythologies. We push them out through PA systems. We dictate our doxologies and try to get sleeping kids to sit up and listen.'
Sharing what you've learned and care deeply about is damn near impossible to avoid doing. Whether you've just learned how to make a fantastic Old Fashioned, how cool dragonflies are, or how to avoid air ever touching your precious, precious molecules, or about the mind-blowing amount of work that went into painting (and later restoring) the Sistine Chapel, there's a compulsion to share your knowledge with the hope that somebody -- anybody -- will share in a common interest. At some level, we go into any new experience with a hope to share it with someone else. It's why we sign up for races with friends, and why nobody wants to take a sailing class by themselves.
Another week, another set of runs. How'd you close out March?
As I mentioned earlier this week, I'm hurt. Or, more accurately: I think I'm hurt. But I'm not sure; that uncertainty has started to cycle into a positive feedback loop of sorts. I've made my decision on this week's training, but it's probably useful to talk through my thought process (MUNDANE ALERT) in order to 1) figure out if I'm neglecting any factors and 2) share the process with y'all, be it flawed or perfect. If anything, I'm prone to over-thinking things. But, that's how I've learned and how I think. Objectivity!
Up front: I very much appreciate the feedback that I've gotten from you guys (see image). Like anything worth putting thought into, there are differing opinions on what to do (though the opinions aren't all contrary or mutually exclusive and can be viewed as complimentary to a certain extent).
Every marathon training program relies on mileage. You have to put in the distance to prepare for the race. But, after you finish that first one and prove you can do it, the question gets a bit murkier. How do you maximize your workouts to run it faster the next time? At this point, you are likely to run into the "garbage miles" debate.
Garbage miles (also known as "junk miles" and "trash miles") are notoriously ill-defined but they usually refer to mileage that is needless or unnecessary for one's training. The pejorative nomenclature is revealing (the opposite term is "quality miles"), people's definitions of the term tend to vary quite a bit but you better believe they feel strongly about it.
Some folks use the expression to describe miles that shouldn't be included in your weekly mileage totals. Like, say, parking at the far end of the lot at the supermarket and jogging from and to your car. This can turn into an ugly debate on whether warm up and cool down miles should be included.
Others see the term as describing low-intensity workouts in general and, boy howdy, is there some disagreement over those among the runnerati. That's further complicated by the conflicting science on the matter.
Some studies have found that athletes who have emphasized high-volume, low-intensity training with a focus on aerobic conditioning outperform those that loaded up on the high-intensity efforts. Meanwhile, other studies have argued that high-intensity workouts maximize mitochondrial density which could be a key to endurance performance. The result is message board chaos.
And, lastly, there is a group that simply uses the term to describe workouts that aren't geared toward training at all and argues these are actually essential for your mental and emotional well being. The negative terminology has been transformed into irony: garbage miles are for taking the time to smell the roses.
A lousy run every once in a while can serve as a good reminder that there are always improvements that can be made in training. A whole lousy week is quite another thing altogether. As I mentioned in yesterday's training roundup, I had a particularly shitty training week last week.
As I've mentioned before, I've had lower-leg issues for a few years -- mostly in my calves, but I've also had soreness in my tibialis anterior (thanks, Wikipedia). Normally I can loosen my calves up with a foam roller and get rid of the knots. This past week, I wasn't able to. More to the point, the entire shank of each leg was miserably sore, swollen, and tired. When I set out for seven miles on Wednesday morning, my legs were in open revolt -- something that I rarely experience, and I (rightly) cut my run short in response. The same thing happened Friday morning when I headed out. My long run on Sunday saw me stopping every other mile to walk -- more often than before -- and I had to sit on a bench for a few minutes to work the tightness out of my calves (I wasn't wearing my calf compression sleeves on my long run, though I don't know how/if this works into the equation). During the last two miles, I felt my right leg going numb -- something that happens once every two weeks or so. I stopped to walk to try and let the numbness subside, but once I started back up the numbness started creeping back in. After my run on Sunday, my legs were miserably sore all day. (When I wrote this on Monday night they were feeling better, but not great.)
As with any sort of multivariable exercise (especially true given my poor understanding of mathematics), I'm not exactly sure what the major contributor to my bad training was, or if there even is one. That being said, I've got some ideas of where the troubles may have originated, starting with the half marathon that I ran last Sunday.
Spring has sprung and seemingly passed us by. How'd the warm weather treat you this past week?
Showing 1 - 8 of 45 Older
