Marathon Rules

This weeks TIART topic is "As you start your marathon training don't forget..." What a great topic! As I was thinking about this, there were a number of things that came to mind. Things like having the proper training plan, eating right, getting plenty of fluids or remembering to listen to your body. All of those things are important...and if you forget them you'll pay the consequences down the road somewhere. But there is a mental aspect to this whole marathon thing that is important to remember throughout the process. That's why it's essential to keep in mind the two cardinal rules of marathoning.

As you start your marathon training, don't forget...

Marathon Rule Number 1: Those who do marathons are crazy.

• Throughout history, people have attempted to find ways to make life easier. They caught and tamed horses so they wouldn't have to run. They created carriages for a smoother ride. They invented automobiles so they wouldn't have to feed the horses. They improved roads so cars could go faster. Tell me again why you want to run 26.2 miles?
• In training for a marathon this year, I will run the equivalent of running from Des Moines to Austin, TX.
• At some point during every marathon I’ve run I’ve vowed I would never do it again. Yet here I go again.
• Who else discusses the color of their pee?
• Carefully watch the expressions of people who learn that you are training for a marathon. You’ll notice that they are quietly wondering if they need to keep you away from sharp objects.
• Here's a three-step sanity check: 1. Reset the odometer the next time you are in the car. 2. Measure 26.2 miles. 3. Think about it.
• Normal people would think that running that much every week might be okay since “you can eat anything you want,” yet most marathoners obsess about what they eat. They carefully watch portions and content in an attempt to prepare for the next run without gaining weight. Notice all of the healthy food articles in running magazines…and that there isn’t a single fast food advertisement.
• The guy pooping in your bushes is probably training for a marathon.

Marathon Rule Number 2: Crazy is good.

• “Uh, no way”: The response I get when I challenge my son’s varsity athlete friends to a foot race…to a point 20 miles away.
• Few great things in life are accomplished without extraordinary commitment. Why settle for ordinary?
• Endorphins.
• The discipline required in marathon training spills over into other areas of life.
• Where else can you spend a morning having hundreds of complete strangers tell you that you're "looking good"?
• Many of my mocking friends huff and puff after climbing a flight of stairs.
• I can wear my "thin" pants.
• Most of my best ideas and the solutions to my most perplexing problems have come while I've been running.
• Remember: If you’ve run from Des Moines to Austin, it's quitting during a run from Minneapolis to St. Paul that would be crazy.
• I can settle into my workday knowing that I have already accomplished something that most people haven’t: I’ve run my miles.
• As I write this in Caribou Coffee, a customer walked in who looks like he's had a few hundred too many Big Macs. Yes, sometimes a long run can really hurt, but it looks like he hurts just standing in line.
• I've cheered as my favorite sports team has won the championship. I've enjoyed winning a close game. But nothing in all of sports (and perhaps almost all of life) feels like crossing the finish line of a marathon. Nothing.

Now it's important to remember these rules because people will question your sanity. There will come a time when you question your sanity. Start your training right by repeating the two rules over and over on at least one training run per week. Then you'll be set for whatever befalls you between now and the finish line.

"I am crazy. Crazy is good. I am crazy. Crazy is good. I am..."

The Whys of Running

I've gotten serious about my running. Over the last few years I've slowly worked myself back into being able to run 10 miles and now am focusing on training for a marathon this fall. As I was running this morning I was thinking about the benefits I've discovered to running, and more specifically training for something as big as a marathon. Here are a few of them:

• Physical fitness. It sounds obvious, but I feel better about myself when I am "in shape" than when I am "out of shape." One problem of the problems I have is that having trained for marathons in the past I now consider "marathon shape" to be my standard for physical fitness. I haven't been "in shape" for many years.


• A Distraction. As a pastor, I have a never-ending job. I love it, but I need the demands of a big race to help me focus on something else for a while.


• Nature. One of the reasons I the treadmill so much is that I enjoy getting out and seeing the changes each week brings. Running here in the Northwoods is special because there is the chance to see all sorts of wildlife. I've seen bears, deer, fox along with huge assortment of birds.


• Discipline. When I am disciplined in my running, it carries over to other areas of my life.


• Ice cream. Need I say more?


• A sense of accomplishment. Okay, pride. There's a sick sense of gratification when a non-runner says, "I saw you running today, how far did you go?" and you can answer "Only six miles today" because it was your short midweek run. Slightly better is to be able to shrug your shoulders and say, "Oh, about 20 miles this morning." The look you get is priceless.

Training Log - April 5

How do you decide when simply building and maintaining base mileage ends and the actual training for an event begins? I try to run most of the winter, but I am only dreaming of the races that summer and fall will bring. I cannot say that I am actually training for them.

I remember talking to someone years ago about training for my first marathon. Their first question was whether I had built a running base of at least 20 miles per week. "Unless you've done that, that's where you start" were his words. I had reached that base, and he sketched out a training plan for my first marathon. Ever since then I haven't really considered myself to be training if I am running less than 20 miles per week.

I guess I also have another criteria that I apply to consider when I am actually "in training" rather than just running for general fitness. I consider myself to be "in training"when I am running more than 20 miles per week and my long runs have pushed past the 10k point and are going to be heading up for the foreseeable future.

Therefore, I hearby declare that the winter is over and my training for this year's races has begun. Today I pushed past the 6.2 mile mark and ran 6.9 miles. By the end of the month I'll have my long run at 10 miles.

The pursuit of the marathon has officially begun. Only 735 miles of training to go.

Bring it on.

The Twin Cities Marathon...in 1989

I ran my third marathon in October of 1989. The Twin Cities Marathon was also my first "large" marathon. Milwaukee wasn't bad and Lake Geneva was small. The TC Marathon is definitely a celebration of running and autumn. Its claim to be the "most beautiful urban marathon" is certainly no idle boast.

After so many years there are a few images that linger in my mind:

• Even though I grew up in the Twin Cities, I was surprised at just how close the lakes are to downtown Minneapolis. I had run around most of the lakes before and enjoyed the skyline view, but I was surprised by how quickly we reached them from downtown.
• The aid stations were tremendous. "Chariots of Fire" and "Rocky were blaring from many of the stands. The water station at the 20 mile mark was a giant wall built across the road. It was incredible.
• My wife cheering me. In a major disappointment, my wife hurt her knee on the final long run in training for the marathon. She was reduced to cheering. Every once in a while I would spy her on the side of the road hollering and clapping. A spectator who has run a marathon feels a special connection to those running past.
• The fall colors. The trees were absolutely stunning. The river bluffs and mansions were beautiful. It was a spectacular run.
• Turning the corner and seeing the capitol and the finish line teeming with people.

It was also the only marathon I seriously considered dropping out of. Somewhere around mile 21 my right big toe started to hurt. The first "knuckle" of my toe, where it connects to the foot screamed with every step. I tried walking for a while, but it didn't help. I settled into a survival jog and scanned the crowds for my wife. If I had seen her, I would have called it quits.

Fortunately, she decided to wait at the finish line. Funny, she always seems to know just what to do.

Marathon Memories - Part Two

I decided to run a second marathon. Why? I suppose it is similar to the reasoning of a woman who has had a baby. In the midst of labor, most women vow that they will never endure childbirth again, but within days forget the pain as they hold the results of their labor in their arms. Okay, it's not really like that, after all a t-shirt and a finishers medal hardly match a newborn baby, but its the closest thing I can come up with.

I guess I decided that the whole marathon lifestyle was one that I enjoyed. The discipline of training, the sense of accomplishment, the fact that I was in shape and could consider myself an athlete appealed to me. Besides, if I was already good enough shape to run a marathon, training for another one would be a cinch!

So I pulled out a copy of Runner's World and looked for a nearby spring marathon. We were living in Chicago at the time so the closest spring marathon was the Lake Geneva Marathon. I knew a little about Lake Geneva. My mom had been a lifeguard there when she was young and told stories about walking on a trail around the lake looking at all of the beautiful lake homes. Sounded like a fun marathon. So I signed up.

I should have done more research.

Here's a description of the Lake Geneva Marathon...right off their website:

The course is a challenging and picturesque route around the perimeter of Geneva Lake. The scenic views and unbelievable hills combined with a final run on an ancient Indian trail set the stage for a very memorable marathon. The marathon will be both demanding for the best runners and an opportunity not to be missed for those runners looking for the ultimate marathon challenge.

Marathon brochures are like real estate advertisements. They require interpretation. For example, when you look at real estate ad you know that "cozy" means "small," "handy-man special" means "don't slam the door or it will fall off its hinges," and "close to transportation" means that "you can see the rivets on the wings of the jetliners."

Now let's look at this marathon's advertisement and state what should have been obvious:

• "...a challenging and picturesque route..." - Running 26 miles on the plains of North Dakota would be challenging.
  
• "...around the perimeter of Lake Geneva..." - From start to finish, there is no change in elevation. As you run remember: what goes up, must come down and what goes down will go back up.
• "...unbelievable hills..." - We aren't talking about scenery here.
• "...demanding for the best of runners..." - Does anyone see a problem here?
• "...for runners looking for the ultimate running challenge..." - Hello? Anyone home?

I had pictured a nice asphalt trail running around a large lake surrounded by beautiful homes owned by Chicago millionaires. They didn't promise that.

They delivered on what they promised. It is one of the most difficult marathons in country. It was also well-run.

The marathon course headed out of town and up into the bluffs surrounding the lake and then back down to the lake. Then back up into the bluffs and back down again. Then back up and back down. It reminded me of an airplane practicing landings and take-offs. There wasn't a flat spot on the course.

Non-runners often think that long uphills would be the hardest part of running. And while uphills can be cardiovascularly challenging, it's the downhills that are killers. I cannot just free-wheel down a hill like you might try on a bicycle because my legs just don't go that fast. I wind up "riding the brakes" down the long hills, which is extremely tiring. Because this course was a loop around the lake, every time you headed up a steep incline, you knew that you were going to come back down. Running up a steep hill after running up and down for 15 miles is a real killer mentally because you know the downhill is coming.

I remember reaching the far side of the lake in pretty good shape considering how many hills I had been over. At the far end of the lake was a village that was memorable for two reasons. The first was a red-haired boy of about 10 who was riding a blue bicycle. I remember him vivdly because he decided to play chicken with me. Not a smart thing to do to a marathon runner. It's one of the few times in my life I've ever been seriously tempted to commit a heinous act.

The other reason I remember the village is that at the time it was the stopping point for what I believe was a 25k (about 15 miles). When you registered, you signed up for "the race" and could elect to stop after 25k and no one would be the wiser. Since I had intended to run the full marathon and still felt pretty good, I decided to keep on running.

I headed out of the village and out into the country up and down another set of hills. The course then ran on the shoulder of a four-lane country highway. As I looked down the road I saw a long hill stretching to the horizon. Gathering my strength, I put my head down and headed up, knowing full well that there would be a downhill on the other side. It wouldn't have been bad except...

About halfway up the hill a school bus passed me carrying the runners that had taken the "bail out" option back at the village. One would expect to hear encouraging shouts as the bus rolled past. Instead, the "quitters" were equally divided between shaking their heads at my folly and openly laughing and pointing at me. I remember thinking that I was going have a few words with them when I saw them at the finish line. Then I realized that they would probably be long gone by the time I finished.

Sigh.

By the time I hit the "ancient Indian trail" heading toward the finish line, I was too pooped to look for anyone other than my wife. I was too tired to raise my hands as a I crossed the finish life. I had just finished the hardest thing I had ever done in my life. I collapsed into the grass and vowed never to run another marathon again.

Three days later...

Memories of My First Marathon

This October will be the twentieth anniversary of my first marathon. That's reason enough for me to attempt another one. I am not old!

Here are a few memories of my first marathon. The place: Milwaukee. The Year: 1988.

• It's easy to tell who the runners are when you pick up your race packet. There were tons of skinny people picking up their race packets. In fact, I don't think you'll ever see so many skinny people gathered in one place than at a marathon. Accompanying those skinny people are a bunch of not-so-skinny (is it okay to say "fat"?) people. They look very uncomfortable. As I watched them I decided that their discomfort did not come from being around so many physically fit people. They looked more like they thought they were accompanying their beloved lunatic to the insane asylum.
  
• The bus ride. I'll never forget getting on the school bus at the finish area for the bus ride to the starting point. There was tons of nervous chatter as runners visited with each other. As we left downtown, drove through the suburbs and the ex-burbs past farms and finally to a country elementary school, the bus grew quiet. I know that every runner was thinking the same thing. It was really long bus ride. And we were going to run back. Maybe the fat people were right.
  
• The Starting Line. The starting lines of road races have some common themes. Friends gathering in small groups to talk. Runners stretching against buildings. The constant checking of the watch. The fastest runners toeing the starting line. The slower runners gathering near the back. At 5k and 10k races you see runners sprinting up and down the street getting the kinks out and getting ready to race. You don't see as much of that at a marathon. The runners are conserving their energy. The first three miles are where you get the kinks out. Really.
• The Cheers. Other than an occasional "hi" or "looking good" from a passing runner, no one ever cheers your training runs. That's different in a marathon. The Milwaukee marathon was a "small" marathon, but still the starting line and every water stop was filled with people. As we ran into town people sat on lawn chairs cheering this strange parade. I had read that you only needed to run 20 miles to train for a marathon and that the crowd was worth the last six. They were right.
• The Marathon Should Be Time, Not Distance. Around mile 14 someone at an aid station hollered out who the winner of the marathon was. I don't remember who it was. I remember thinking, "Wimp! Anyone can run for a little over two hours. I'd like to see him try running for four hours!"
  
• Putting One Foot in Front of the Other. Your body hurts. Not just your legs, but everything. Your arms hurt, your fingers hurt. Your hair hurts. Everything hurts. The endorphins are long gone, leaving you feeling like the anesthesia didn't last through the whole operation. You wonder if you are going to make it. In the meantime, there are fat people sitting in the shade in lawn chairs. Drinking lemonade and laughing. They are having fun. You hurt. You have eight miles to go. At this point, the marathon is purely a mental game. Make it to the next tree, the next mile, the next water station. You can quit...just not right now. You make a promise: I will never, ever do this again.
  
• The Lake. One of the unique features of the Milwaukee Marathon was that you could see the finish line for what seemed like miles before you actually got there. It reminded me of driving to Denver and catching the first glimpse of the Rockies. Really cool, but they are still a long way off. In fact, after the excitement of spotting the finish line it seems like you will never get there.
• The Finish Line. I wanted to sprint to the finish line, but my legs couldn't respond. I crossed the line with arms stretched to heaven. Someone tore the tag off the bottom of my race number. A medical person gave me a five second look-over. A woman placed a finishers medal around my neck as I started to cry. I have never known such a feeling of accomplishment as at the end of a marathon.
  
• The Next Day. My legs were stiff and sore. Going down stairs was almost impossible. I wondered if my marathon t-shirt was appropriate business attire.
  
• The Third Day. It's amazing how much things change in three days. By the third day I went out for a short jog. As I was running I thought, "Maybe I'll do another one in the spring."

The fat people are right.