After the last few weeks, today's post makes me feel like this is probably the most depressing marathon training blog ever. But here we are.
I have not run this week.
I did get to go to HIIT class, the first one after Covid, and that was great. It was so good to be back, and not as challenging as I thought it would be. (I was sore for two days though.) I did yoga too. But running just did not happen.
I took Sunday off after how rough Saturday was, plus it was cold and we were busy. The rest of the week was too cold to run outside, and I was too busy to get over to the indoor track. I entertained the idea of going to there early before work, but I have been so tired all damn week.
And then on Wednesday, I found out that someone I knew in high school and college died. I felt so sad on hearing the news. We had been very close, and then stopped talking and hadn't seen each other in over a decade. They died of Covid. They were 32.
So, I know why it was hard to run this week. And here's the thing.
I don't have to run, I get to run
Running is a privilege. It's not an obligation. It's not a moral judgement. There are so many people who literally cannot run. The frail, the disabled, the dead.
Running is not a thing you just do when you feel great and happy. When you are a runner, it is a thing you can always do. Running is always there for you.
I have gone on a handful of runs in my life that were pure joy. The essence of being alive.
I have gone on an uncountable* number of runs that were average. Not great, not terrible. Just runs. (*Strava and Map My Run would disagree about the uncountable claim)
I have gone on a lot of runs that felt like moving through molasses or like I was pulling a car behind me, or where I just psychologically didn't want to run. You got to hear about one of those last week. They still teach me something and keep me active.
I have run with sadness. Last January when a coworker died, I went on a four-mile run before work. It was the most beautiful and most sad run I've done yet. The trees were covered in hoar frost and the streets were still lightly dusted with snow. In fact, I think it was actively snowing those big fluffy flakes. It was sad, but also joyful to be alive and running. That's what "I get to run" means.
Long Run Saturday
I wrote everything above on Friday morning, and decided to make sure to get my long run in this week. Saturday's run was scheduled to be 9 miles. I ate my apple and peanut butter, drank my coffee, bundled up, and got out there. I ran 9.3 miles and oh my gosh I remember what a real long run feels like now!
I started out feeling great. Taking the week off running helped whatever funk I was feeling last Saturday (this is exactly why you "taper" before a long race) and the first three miles were wonderful. It was lightly snowing, and it was what I call "warm cold," when you have enough layers and your heart is beating fast enough that you feel warm even though you can feel the cold air.
Entering the third mile is where I stared to slow down. Just getting a little tired, wanting to be done already. A little after an hour (6 miles in), I remembered that one of the important things about a long run is fueling, which I had not prepared to do. I guess I hadn't quite accepted that this was a long enough run for that to be important, but oh right, it was.
You may be familiar with runners drinking sports drinks instead of water, or eating goo packets or gummies during a race. This is because your body only stores enough glycogen (essentially, carbs) to run or exercise intensely for about an hour. After that you start burning fat, which is less efficient and less pleasant. When you're going on long runs, you want to be replenishing your glycogen so that you can keep running efficiently.
So I shuffled through the last three miles and made it back home.
Week 4 Plan
Sunday: 3 miles
Monday: Rest
Tuesday: HIIT
Wednesday: 4 miles
Thursday: 3 miles
Friday: Rest
Saturday: 9 miles
Week 4 Results
Sunday: Rest
Monday: Rest
Tuesday: HIIT
Wednesday: Rest
Thursday: Rest
Friday: Rest
Saturday: 9.3
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