Walk, Don't Run

Haven't seen one like this, have you?
(Courtesy Rakka @ Flickr)

So, when is a marathon run not a marathon run? I don't mean this as a trick question, though it might sound like one. For more folk than you'd think, taking walk breaks during a marathon run would disqualify that performance from counting as a "true, real" marathon run. Yes, some might answer the question "when is a marathon run not a marathon run" with "anytime you dont' run the whole distance." While this might sound a bit elitist or haughty, in the mind of the timelapserunner this is true, too. Yes, guilty as charged. I entertain this thought every few weeks as I continue to use the Galloway run/walk/run technique in weekly training and on weekend long runs. Why is this? Why do I think this way?

Don't be Running on Empty

Fill 'er up!
(Courtesy freefotouk @ Flickr)

If you want to keep your conveyance running, you simply have to keep it fueled. Fail to do that and she'll leave you sitting on the side of the road. True for cars. Also true for your body ... especially if you're involved in an endurance event like the marathon. The timelapserunner has been testing out a refueling plan on the last two long runs (i.e., the 13 and 15 milers) but has been looking from time to time for a more quantitative, even scientific approach to refueling during long training runs and on race day as well. He may have found such an approach.

Edge of Seventeen

A very special number
(Courtesy Leo Reynolds @ Flickr)

This is it. We're on the edge of seventeen ... miles, that it. This Saturday or Sunday, depending on the weather. If the long range forecast holds up, it'll be Sunday ... with starting temps in the 40s, rising to the 60s. As close as we've gotten to the kind of weather we're hoping for in January. But seventeen is an odd number, a prime number and - when it comes to running - a large number. We'll be Clif Bar loading before we leave, carrying water and gel packing at the 11, 14 and 17 mile marks. (Like we know what the heck we're doing!) Still, every new long run is a personal record. One more notch. Hopefully, the timelapserunner will be in the zone and "... with the words from a poet ... and the voice from a choir ... and a melody... nothing else (will have) mattered."

Raggedy Andy the Runner

Sometimes I feel like Raggedy Andy
(Courtesy goingslo @ Flickr)

I don't know. Sometimes I just feel a little discombobulated. Just one step behind. A little sluggish. Like taking a day off from work - but I know I can't. Sometimes this affects the workout schedule. Like on Monday this week. Supposed to walk three miles. Felt tired and stayed in bed. Skipped the walk. Then on Tuesday, the weather was to be nice and cool. This would mean that we'd be going about as fast as we're allowed to go: 9:02 per mile during the running part, with an overall pace of 10:11 per mile. But we got off to a raggedy start, so-to-speak.

Persevering Patience

More than just warmth?
(Courtesy oddnation.net)

The timelapserunner's sister ran across a neat insight recently and, as one of the handful of readers of this blog, passed it along. It seems that Timothy Gallagher in his work The Discernment of Spirits, speaks of persevering patience in the Ignatian sense: "a virtue of those undergoing trial, who do not flee it but carry the burden faithfully." Gallagher compares this to a marathon runner who "feels the fatigue of many miles already run but does not cease running until the race is fully complete." In my more reflective moments I fully appreciate that the persevering patience I exhibit while running long runs would probably fall short if taxed by the greater trials of life that I see so many others having to work through. Still, I will count it as practice not only for the upcoming race but for the rest of my life, hoping that I will remember the courage and peace afforded by this experience when called upon to exercise it amidst a more consequential trial. That said, yesterday I survived my first fifteen mile workout. Woot!

The Dichotomy Paradox and Marathon Training

The great philosopher Zeno
(Courtesy Stifts- och landsbiblioteket
i Skara's photostream @ Flickr)

There's something about the ancient Greeks - their culture, their language, and their brilliance - that I've always been enthralled with. Well, at least since those days when I took two years of classical Greek in high school. Remarkably, I still remember a few phrases in Greek from Homer's Odyssey, with all it's great imagery (e.g., ῥοδοδάκτυλος Ἠώς, which translates to rosy-fingered dawn). Still, my knowledge of Greek philosophy can be written in large print on the face of a small postage stamp. Many of us have heard the names but most of us - including me - haven't read their books. There are those we all know (e.g., Aristotle and Plato) and those we don't know much about. One of those lesser known philosophers was Zeno of Elea. Zeno was famous for his several paradoxes, one of which is known as the Dichotomy Paradox.

Does seven days make one weak?

Is this what I look like in that mode?
(Courtesy tamra hays @ Flickr)

As the timelapserunner looks ahead to next week, he can't help but focus on those activities that will most occupy his time (besides sleeping, that is). Those would be grading papers and working out. Perhaps he's looking through glass-half-empty spectacles, thinking only of what would appear to be drudgery to many. I suppose it's true that many a teacher has gazed upon a large stack of papers (on the desk or in the cloud) and dreaded getting started on the marking process. It's also true that most non-runners would look forward to a fifteen mile run like they would a visit to the dentist - a three plus hour visit to the dentist! Somehow, the timelapserunner will find enjoyment in both those activities this week. At least that's the plan.

Can you teach an old car new tricks?

I know. You must think that that fool timelapserunner is getting so confused he can't even get his cliches straight. You might be right, but the mixed metaphor in this post's title is deliberate not accidental. I mean to cover two slightly different but connected topics in this post: a) how is an aging runner like a old car, and b) can an aging runner learn to do new things or at least old things in a new way? Why so reflective, you ask? Well, as you start to age you begin thinking about your activities a bit more, either before or after you do them. Heck, sometimes just trying to remember why you're headed down the hall can invoke a great deal of cerebral activity.