Mt. LeConte

My marathon training plan kicked off this week with a planned four mile easy run on Monday and six miles of hills today.  I missed both of these workouts.  But only a fool would not consider Sunday's 10-mile hike to the summit of Mt. LeConte a good replacement for those workouts, the adequacy of which can be felt even today in sore muscles.  Muscles are supposed to feel this way after that kind of workout, though - climbing from 3800 to 6500 in elevation - and it is a good, healthy feeling as they go through the process of repairing and getting stronger, not unlike having run a hard race.

There is always a benefit to be gained in good cross-training, and Sunday's glorious hike - on the most perfect day I remember for climbing this mountain - was no exception.  This was my 27th climb to the top - just me and Martha (who is in GREAT shape) this time - and I hope it will not be my last. 

New Beginnings

It has been some time since I posted an entry to this blog, but with Fall on the way and a possible marathon on the horizon, I thought it would be instructive (for me at least, if not for the slim handful of friends who are followers of this intermittent blog) to begin again. 

Yes, there has been a touch of Fall in the air! - those cool temperatures a harbinger of good training days ahead, if only I can shake these annoying injuries of the past two weeks.  I had planned to run the Twilight 5-K in Highlands Saturday night and would have, despite the rain, except for an IT Band issue that seems to be more than just the usual niggle.  And then Friday I apparently stepped on a dead or dying bee while walking barefoot at home.  (Do they die lying on their backs, stinger pointed upward, just for the opportunity of that last dying blow?)   I thought they had all been killed last month when in desperation I fogged the upstairs bedroom with poison (after getting in bed one night and discovering one waiting for me there).  But this one must have survived, and hit the middle toe in my left foot, which swelled up so badly that I could barely pull on my boots.  I limped around all day Friday in increasingly excruciating pain, and Friday night found me applying ice most of the evening to reduce the swelling.  Thank God for a beesting that put the exclamation mark on my wavering decision not to run this race!

 !

Friday we are planning (weather permitting) to climb Mt. LeConte.  And next Monday, August 26, marks the beginning of yet another 16-week marathon training plan.  Once again to the summit!

A New Year

It has been almost eight weeks since my marathon, and finally the soreness and little niggles have (mostly) gone away.  No more excuses!  Yesterday was the last day of 2012 and I decided to run up Big Bearpen again - "Once More to the Summit!" - and it actually felt good to feel the strength returning to my legs.  And what a glorious day to climb Bearpen, with that singular view from the very top, the lakes of South Carolina gleaming along the horizon.  It is a summit of fitness, as well; after a marathon, a runner doubts he can ever ascend a mountain like this again, or run that far again, or run fast again.  But there I was, standing on the very top, giving thanks for recovery of my fitness.

Today was the first day of 2013 and we began it well with our annual New Year's Resolution Run.  Despite light rain, 16 of us showed up to begin the new year committed once again to running.

It's a clean slate!  Martha posted this on our little blackboard in the kitchen, where we take turns writing inspirational messages throughout the year.

"The future lies before you, like paths of pure white snow; 

be careful how you tread it, for every step will show."

It reminded me of that famous last Calvin & Hobbes cartoon:

And so I wrote, for this New Year:

"Let's Go Exploring!"

 

Recovery

Recovery form a marathon seems to take longer each time I run one.  It has been a month now; I began running again a week after the race, and have been steadily increasing mileage each day.  I feel just great as each run begins, but then I hit the wall again at mile three, or four.  That little niggling pain in my right knee crops up, and my legs begin to fill slowly with lead.  Will I ever recover?

But each time I push a little farther and it becomes a little easier.  Today I ran eight miles!  It seems impossible that only a month ago I ran three times that distance! 

The body and its ability to recover is truly miraculous.

The Witch of Blackberry Bottom

I rarely complete a marathon without encountering some very unusual, inspiring, or just weird people!  One year in Huntsville I came up behind a man with a Bible verse on the back of his shirt - perhaps it was, " I can do all things in Christ who strengthens me," I cannot remember for certain.  What I do remember was that he had only one leg - the other was a prosthetic leg.  So no matter how difficult the miles became that lay ahead, I remembered, "There is a man back there with one leg!"

This year I thought I was dreaming when, at about mile 24, a woman and a little girls (I think from scanning the results later that she was a 14-year-old) passed me.  (Yes, I am frequently passed by 14-year-old girls in races these days!)  The woman was running alongside the girl - was it her daughter, or just a young friend? - with an open book in her hand, reading it aloud to her in a clear voice.  This was an interesting alternative to an i-pod.  "And then Michael said, 'I will build myself a house in the Spring, and I will go to live in it,' . . ." or something like that.  Was this "The Wind in the Willows?"  I summoned up enough strength to catch up and I said, "Excuse me, but that is just amazing!   What are you reading?"

"Oh," she laughed, "It's a great book!  The Witch of Blackberry Bottom." Alas, I could not keep up with this interesting pair.  They were long gone, on their way to Brown's Island (or Blackberry Bottom) and the finish line.

I wonder what book I would have chosen, could I have ordered up a personal reader to pace me for 26.2 miles?  Hamlet is about four hours long, and by the last scene the stage is littered with bodies.

Perhaps that would have been appropriate!

"You that look pale and tremble at this chance,
That are but mutes or audience to this act,
Had I but time--as this fell sergeant, death,
Is strict in his arrest--O, I could tell you-- . . ."

"The rest is silence . . ."

Impossible to Fail

I have to admit that there were times during the marathon when I faltered in my belief that it was impossible to fail.  The hills, which I did not remember being so steep in 2004, took their toll.  And the heat, especially in the last two hours of the marathon, also took their toll, climbing into the 60s.  But the weather was absolutely gorgeous and the crowds were enthusiastic.  I dug deep and discovered - especially in the last two miles - that once again it was possible to cross a distant and difficult finish line, praising God and giving thanks for my health and fitness.

Martha started the Half Marathon injured, and she decided not to push herself beyond what felt comfortable.  And as a result, she ran one of her best times ever - 2:09:15.  That tells us all something about starting too fast!  I did the same thing, starting at 9:30 miles, then 10:00 miles, but toward the end I was logging some 12- and 13-minute miles.  And, for me, the downhill finish was excruciating, shredding what was left of my quads.  My time was 4:52:59, and I was thankful that Martha faithfully waited almost three hours and found me at the finish line because I don't think I could have found her.

We look great here, don't we?  But the observant runner might note that there is only a scant sip or two of water gone from the bottle, and a single nauseating bite taken from the bagel.  It did indeed take some time to recover my appetite, as I made my way back to the hotel and staggered off the elevator, eating one or two pretzels at a time and slowly feeling my body return to normal.  Still, I could not eat anything beyond a few pretzels, when Martha had a wonderful idea!  What was my all-time favorite post-race food?  Vegetable soup, featured each year at the Rocket City Marathon in Huntsville.  She went downstairs to Trevi's, the Italian restaurant in the lobby of the Omni, and brought me back a bowl of the most delicious minestrone soup I have ever had in my life:

Will this be my last marathon?  We aging marathoners cannot help asking this question in the final miles of a brutal marathon.  The old saying is that you should wait until you forget how painful the last one was before you sign up for another.  And already I am beginning to think, "Hmmm.  What if it had been just a little cooler, and I had been just a little better prepared?"

Folly.  Sheer folly!

Countdown

Friday I ran the final "hard" run for this marathon, the same as I have done for many past marathons:  six miles at my marathon goal pace.  I have adjusted that pace over the years, and this year I expect to run at a 9:15/mile or a 9:30/mile pace; but for training purposes I always try to run just a little fast, so my goal was a 9:00/mile pace.  I ran five miles for an average of exactly that pace, and then a one-mile cool-down.

That is encouraging, but of course the thought occurs to me, "Can I run another twenty miles at that pace?  The answer should be, "Yes, of course you can; you've trained perfectly, and you will be strong and rested at the end of your taper."  Any other answer would be the voice of doubt, which we do not permit to intrude on the mind at this point and certainly at no point during the race!  But the real answer will only come on marathon day itself, which is what makes this foolish adventure worth the many weeks of training.  As the Nike ad poses it:  "Do I have it in me?"  The only way to know is to go to the starting line.

This weekend we visited Katy and David, and they took us to a great little restaurant in Kannapolis called Forty Six.  Named for the number of chromosomes in the human body, it featured many quotations on the walls by Charles Kettering, including this one: 

“Believe and act as if it were impossible to fail.” 

And so this will be my mantra as I count down the days to Marathon Day.