Give or take a couple of days, I got 13 weeks left.
The San Antonio Rock ‘N Roll will be my second marathon. Although it doesn’t boast an impressive elevation profile like Big Sur, 26.2 flat miles measure the same distance. Still, I haven’t slacked off too terribly much. Excluding the week after Big Sur and the burnout week two weeks ago (I’ll get into this later), I have never dropped below 26 miles per week. Overall, I am averaging 33 miles with a high of 49. I have posted five 40+ weeks after Big Sur and would have continued with this trend if not plagued with a recurring injury. In contrast, I only ever breached the 40-mile mark twice during the spring. Point of departure, I call it. On to bigger and better.
Immediately after the marathon in April, I ran several races of varying length: 25K trail, 10K paved trail/road hybrid, and 4-mile road/sidewalk. I was looking for diversity and I found it. Although I was somewhat happy with the trail performance, every other race fell short of expectations. I just didn’t have it when I needed it. In fact, this string of sub-par performances compelled me to question if “it” was ever in my possession to begin with. I hated this feeling.
This probably led me to abandon the heavy race schedule I had laid out immediately after Big Sur. And then came the heat. Like a righteous plague from heaven, it consumed everything. Merciless in its quest. I became as fragile as a flower exposed to nuclear fallout. Any excuse to opt out of a run or race and I jumped on it – too much wine; not enough wine; date night; night of fighting; Tiger Wood’s leading a tournament; early-morning golf; post-golf frustration; laundry; grocery shopping; picking up antibiotics for my dog’s urinary tract infection. I could have opened up a business creating excuses.
The San Antonio Rock ‘N Roll will be my second marathon. Although it doesn’t boast an impressive elevation profile like Big Sur, 26.2 flat miles measure the same distance. Still, I haven’t slacked off too terribly much. Excluding the week after Big Sur and the burnout week two weeks ago (I’ll get into this later), I have never dropped below 26 miles per week. Overall, I am averaging 33 miles with a high of 49. I have posted five 40+ weeks after Big Sur and would have continued with this trend if not plagued with a recurring injury. In contrast, I only ever breached the 40-mile mark twice during the spring. Point of departure, I call it. On to bigger and better.
Immediately after the marathon in April, I ran several races of varying length: 25K trail, 10K paved trail/road hybrid, and 4-mile road/sidewalk. I was looking for diversity and I found it. Although I was somewhat happy with the trail performance, every other race fell short of expectations. I just didn’t have it when I needed it. In fact, this string of sub-par performances compelled me to question if “it” was ever in my possession to begin with. I hated this feeling.
This probably led me to abandon the heavy race schedule I had laid out immediately after Big Sur. And then came the heat. Like a righteous plague from heaven, it consumed everything. Merciless in its quest. I became as fragile as a flower exposed to nuclear fallout. Any excuse to opt out of a run or race and I jumped on it – too much wine; not enough wine; date night; night of fighting; Tiger Wood’s leading a tournament; early-morning golf; post-golf frustration; laundry; grocery shopping; picking up antibiotics for my dog’s urinary tract infection. I could have opened up a business creating excuses.
Running is, by its very nature, a self-centered endeavor. Or so my self-pity led me to believe. Around the time that I thought I would never get my groove back, Bob and I began running together. We then joined a marathon training group at a running store. Although I used to discredit these sorts of things (cool people like Clint Eastwood never needed to go on group rides), I discovered that my resolve was stronger than ever. It became much easier to define my individual strengths and weakness in this collective context. Another runner friend of mine mentioned, “I don’t believe you were looking for validation, but calibration.” Point of departure, I called it. Perhaps it’s really just as simple as the old adage asserts: “Misery loves company.”
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