This evening, I watched Michael Phelps finish second in the Olympic Final of the 200m Butterfly by the narrow margin of 0.05 seconds. For an athlete who has experienced some incredible highs in his career (including 8 gold-medals at the 2008 Games in Beijing), this race (within the context of what for him has heretofore probably been a sub-par Olympics) must be a tough one to swallow. And while it is nice to see some other faces winning top races from time-to-time, what Mr. Phelps experienced following that race is one from which we might learn.
It's rarely fun to fall short at something one sets out to do, or indeed fail to meet expectations we have set for ourselves. I know the feeling, though on a different stage. Coming into the Olympics as the current world-record holder and 2-time Olympic-champion in the 200m Butterfly, Michael Phelps was favored to win this race. That he didn't is a testament to how fragile "top of the world" can be; he missed his mark this time, and the world certainly took note.
Yet I think we sell ourselves short if all we take from this event is the fact that someone other than the reigning champion had a great day. It shows that where there is opportunity, there is also possibility (as my old coach often said, "If you have a lane, you have a chance").
It also shows how tough it is to get knocked down by a narrow margin. I could almost feel Mr. Phelps' disappointment through the television; how do you bounce back from that? I think this question is relevant for most of us, since while we may never be Olympic athletes, most of us will experience the pain of defeat at some point. When it happens, how are we going to pick ourselves up and keep going?
The short answer (and one you often hear) is you just do. The real answer is far more complicated, and one which you never really get a chance to answer until it happens. I'm glad Mr. Phelps bounced back well in the relay later, but also thankful that by losing a big race in which he was heavily favored, provided us with a moment to reflect on what it's like to get knocked down and bounce back.
Good luck to all those competing in the Olympics this year, and as always,
Happy Tuesday, friends :)
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
A lesson from a friend's injury
The last four months or so, one of my old roommates from college has been preparing for the San Fransisco Marathon, scheduled for today, 29 July. Last night he called from just outside Alcatraz, complaining of severe low-back pain, not unlike what he experienced four years ago after developing a kidney-stone during XC season. Early this morning he sent a message confirming the kidney-stone diagnosis, and with only hours before the race he withdrew from the competition to recover.
I thought about that a lot today, wondering what it would be like to spend months preparing for a race and then having to withdraw at the last minute. Would I feel sad, angry, or some combination of both? If it was a race for which I was sorely unprepared, might I feel relieved? Or say if, on the day of a marathon, the weather took a turn to the absurd, such as happened in Chicago some years ago with 90+ degrees F for the from start to finish? In such cases, would a DNS (did not start) feel quite so bad?
It is hard to say, but an old Taoist story may offer some insight:
Once there was an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. "Such bad luck," they said sympathetically. "we'll see," the farmer replied. The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. "How wonderful," the neighbors exclaimed. "we'll see," replied the old man. The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune. "we'll see" answered the farmer. The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son's leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out. "we'll see" said the farmer.
The story is interesting in many ways, but I think it fits well with the situation we've been discussing above. First, a supposedly-bad thing happens to the farmer, followed by a supposedly-good thing. Back-and-forth goes "Fortune," yet the farmer remains unfazed by anything, be it good or bad. Indeed, as the story seems to say, things that seem good in the moment can turn out rather badly, and things that seem bad at the moment can turn out well. In short, it's not worth getting excited by either.
That's easy enough to say, but perhaps far more difficult to practice. Of course most of us will get excited when things go well, and perhaps feel down when they don't. It's natural enough, and I wouldn't expect anyone to be so cold to either that nothing moves them.
Yet the story may help us remember--both when times are good and when they are not--that we don't know what the future will bring, and how things go now is not a perfect indication of how they will go later. As an old Buddhist story about a king who is thrown this way and that by good or bad fortune concludes, "This too, shall pass."
No doubt my old roommate will feel some disappointment about not getting to run the race. But having completed a successful build-up, I suspect that training won't go to waste. And while I wish he could have run, his present misfortune might prove motivational for him later, and instructional for the rest of us now. At least, that is one way to take it. So far as the future goes, I guess "we'll see."
Feel better soon ol' boy,
Happy Sunday, friends :)
I thought about that a lot today, wondering what it would be like to spend months preparing for a race and then having to withdraw at the last minute. Would I feel sad, angry, or some combination of both? If it was a race for which I was sorely unprepared, might I feel relieved? Or say if, on the day of a marathon, the weather took a turn to the absurd, such as happened in Chicago some years ago with 90+ degrees F for the from start to finish? In such cases, would a DNS (did not start) feel quite so bad?
It is hard to say, but an old Taoist story may offer some insight:
Once there was an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. "Such bad luck," they said sympathetically. "we'll see," the farmer replied. The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. "How wonderful," the neighbors exclaimed. "we'll see," replied the old man. The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune. "we'll see" answered the farmer. The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son's leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out. "we'll see" said the farmer.
The story is interesting in many ways, but I think it fits well with the situation we've been discussing above. First, a supposedly-bad thing happens to the farmer, followed by a supposedly-good thing. Back-and-forth goes "Fortune," yet the farmer remains unfazed by anything, be it good or bad. Indeed, as the story seems to say, things that seem good in the moment can turn out rather badly, and things that seem bad at the moment can turn out well. In short, it's not worth getting excited by either.
That's easy enough to say, but perhaps far more difficult to practice. Of course most of us will get excited when things go well, and perhaps feel down when they don't. It's natural enough, and I wouldn't expect anyone to be so cold to either that nothing moves them.
Yet the story may help us remember--both when times are good and when they are not--that we don't know what the future will bring, and how things go now is not a perfect indication of how they will go later. As an old Buddhist story about a king who is thrown this way and that by good or bad fortune concludes, "This too, shall pass."
No doubt my old roommate will feel some disappointment about not getting to run the race. But having completed a successful build-up, I suspect that training won't go to waste. And while I wish he could have run, his present misfortune might prove motivational for him later, and instructional for the rest of us now. At least, that is one way to take it. So far as the future goes, I guess "we'll see."
Feel better soon ol' boy,
Happy Sunday, friends :)
Saturday, July 28, 2012
"What kind of coach would I want to be?"
At lunch the other day, my friend Bob and I were talking when suddenly we came around to the topic of our futures.
"So Mr. Jeff," said Bob nonchalantly, "what do you want to do with yourself in the next few years?" At this he characteristically leaned slightly forward over his plate of half-finished Mexican food, eye-brows raised.
"Well you know Bob," I began, popping a fork full of rice and re-fried beans into my mouth, "I've a mind to be a running coach," <chew, chew> "but those I know in the field" <chew,chew> "tell me it's a tough road, and not one most folks can live on unless it's a college gig."
At this, Bob's eyes lit up slightly. "In that case, you must start your own coaching business!"
"Coaching business!?" I replied, surprised.
"Yes," said Bob, "if you like the thought of coaching, you should jump in and give it a try."
We talked more about it that afternoon, but you get the idea. Ever since I've been mulling it over in my head, wondering how something like that might be done. How does one run (no pun intended) a coaching business? More specifically perhaps, how does one coach people outside a school-setting?
These are not easy questions, but I feel they're ones I could answer in time. And I suspect the first question I would need to answer to get there would be this: what kind of coach would I want to be?
While I believe everyone's emotions are highly individual--and therefore have different needs so far as coaching is concerned--the foundation on which I think I'd establish my coaching philosophy would be grounded in a nurturing partnership between coach and athlete. Perhaps more than anything else, a grounded, healthy, and positive relationship seems to me a good place to begin any kind of physical training.
I've noticed that some athletes get that from their team-mates, others from their parents, and still others from friends or other relatives. Some even benefit from the support of all three. Yet many seem to lack even one such source, and it is for this group in particular who I believe would benefit most from a coaching philosophy centered on partnership and unconditional good-will. Everyone has different coaching needs, and figuring out what they are for each person seems like a good place to start.
In addition, I think everyone has different physical-training needs as well. As such, I would hope to be able to provide at least some measure of individualized training and/or instruction for each athlete in my care. Among others, factors such as "training age" (the number of years an athlete has been training in a particular sport), real age, level of ability, and motivation would influence my approach, which could be fine-tuned over time in response to how it works. People are different, and providing training that works with, rather than against, their body seems like a good approach.
Finally, as I coach I would hope to be capable of maintaining an open mind. It seems easy to get locked in a set of rigid ideas about how things should be done, but such an understanding really can leave us blind to problems which invariably arise. I think a coach, and athletes too, need to be able to question everything he or she believes with respect to their daily practice, so that when an injury strikes, or an unexpected result occurs, we can go back and figure out where our practice went wrong. In any activity in which learning is always present, a healthy humility may help us maintain an open mind.
So I don't know if I will pursue this coaching business or not, but I think these three broad ideas serve as a good place to start. As always, I'm open to feed-back if anyone has something they would like to share on this topic.
Happy Saturday, friends :)
"So Mr. Jeff," said Bob nonchalantly, "what do you want to do with yourself in the next few years?" At this he characteristically leaned slightly forward over his plate of half-finished Mexican food, eye-brows raised.
"Well you know Bob," I began, popping a fork full of rice and re-fried beans into my mouth, "I've a mind to be a running coach," <chew, chew> "but those I know in the field" <chew,chew> "tell me it's a tough road, and not one most folks can live on unless it's a college gig."
At this, Bob's eyes lit up slightly. "In that case, you must start your own coaching business!"
"Coaching business!?" I replied, surprised.
"Yes," said Bob, "if you like the thought of coaching, you should jump in and give it a try."
We talked more about it that afternoon, but you get the idea. Ever since I've been mulling it over in my head, wondering how something like that might be done. How does one run (no pun intended) a coaching business? More specifically perhaps, how does one coach people outside a school-setting?
These are not easy questions, but I feel they're ones I could answer in time. And I suspect the first question I would need to answer to get there would be this: what kind of coach would I want to be?
While I believe everyone's emotions are highly individual--and therefore have different needs so far as coaching is concerned--the foundation on which I think I'd establish my coaching philosophy would be grounded in a nurturing partnership between coach and athlete. Perhaps more than anything else, a grounded, healthy, and positive relationship seems to me a good place to begin any kind of physical training.
I've noticed that some athletes get that from their team-mates, others from their parents, and still others from friends or other relatives. Some even benefit from the support of all three. Yet many seem to lack even one such source, and it is for this group in particular who I believe would benefit most from a coaching philosophy centered on partnership and unconditional good-will. Everyone has different coaching needs, and figuring out what they are for each person seems like a good place to start.
In addition, I think everyone has different physical-training needs as well. As such, I would hope to be able to provide at least some measure of individualized training and/or instruction for each athlete in my care. Among others, factors such as "training age" (the number of years an athlete has been training in a particular sport), real age, level of ability, and motivation would influence my approach, which could be fine-tuned over time in response to how it works. People are different, and providing training that works with, rather than against, their body seems like a good approach.
Finally, as I coach I would hope to be capable of maintaining an open mind. It seems easy to get locked in a set of rigid ideas about how things should be done, but such an understanding really can leave us blind to problems which invariably arise. I think a coach, and athletes too, need to be able to question everything he or she believes with respect to their daily practice, so that when an injury strikes, or an unexpected result occurs, we can go back and figure out where our practice went wrong. In any activity in which learning is always present, a healthy humility may help us maintain an open mind.
So I don't know if I will pursue this coaching business or not, but I think these three broad ideas serve as a good place to start. As always, I'm open to feed-back if anyone has something they would like to share on this topic.
Happy Saturday, friends :)
Friday, July 27, 2012
Training Update II (MCM): Yasso-800s
92 Days, 20 Hours to the start...
Due to work and school schedules, Fridays have become my main "quality" day for marathon training. I train other days too, but Fridays are the one day on which I can do a workout fresh. Last Friday I worked on endurance, and this Friday I did one of my favorite marathon workouts: Yasso-800s.
Developed by RunnersWorld chief running officer Bart Yasso, Yasso-800s involve a conversion of one's goal marathon time (hour, minutes) into an 800m time (minutes, seconds). So for instance, if I want to run a 3:30 marathon (3 hours, 30 minutes), my Yasso-800 pace should be 3:30 (3 minutes, 30 seconds). The idea is to start with 4x800m, and over the course of several weeks work up to 10x800m.
I'd hoped to do 6 this morning, but ended up only doing 5.5. Here's how it went.
I woke up a bit later than usual, and only managed to grab a banana and a few sips of water before heading out. I walked about 25 minutes to an old cinder track, sipping from a water-bottle and taking in the morning. The sun shone brightly between a smattering of hazy clouds here and there. The temperature at 8:05am (when I left the house) already felt pretty hot, and the air seemed heavy with moisture. A fragrant wind blew across the road as I walked, rustling the trees and causing drops of water to rain upon my head. Nearby I could hear a number of robins warbling away, as well as other birds whose songs I don't know as well. On the whole it was a beautiful morning, and I was glad to have time to enjoy it.
Arriving at the track, I continued to warm-up. Back in college, this would usually involve a period of 10-15 minutes of jogging, followed by a few stretches, and maybe some half-hearted sprint-drills. Lately I've had good results doing something different.
First I jogged a few minutes, then walked a few minutes while doing some dynamic stretches along the way. After that I ran another few minutes, feeling much faster than before. Then I'd walk again for a few minutes, and do some different dynamic stretches, followed by one final bout of running. By the end of this process I felt loose and fast, which is the idea for a warm-up I guess.The final stage of warm-up involved four strides on the track.
For the workout itself, I'd hoped to run 6x800m in 3:30. The splits for first 5 went as follows--3:15, 3:18, 3:19, 3:17, 3:16. As you can see, from the start I was going faster than I wanted, and while such a pace shouldn't be that hard, I found myself feeling pretty awful by the end of the 5th rep.
Should I run the 6th? I thought. Generally I would say no, especially if I wasn't feeling great. Today, however, I elected to try a little test: start the last rep, and see how things went.
I did this because sometimes getting started is the hardest part of a rep. I don't know why this is, but it may be a bit like cleaning your room or doing homework...the thought of doing it is more distressing than the actual doing. So while I was definitely not feeling that last 800 this morning, I decided to start and see what happened.
As it turned out, starting wasn't enough this time. I got to the 400m mark a few seconds behind pace, and just decided to call it a day.
On the whole, however, I felt today's workout was very positive. Because the grass was so wet, the warm-up and cool-down were done exclusively on pavement, which is good because I'll need to get accustomed to running on pavement for the race. Working-out in the heat and humidity was also helpful, because the conditions could be quite humid in DC, even at the end of October. Both elements fit into the larger scheme of increasingly-specific training as the date of competition approaches.
Finally, I was glad to have tested myself, even if the test didn't come off well. I'm usually pretty cautious about pushing the envelope, but sometimes doing so can yield great benefits, even when the push doesn't pan out.
And that might be the most important take-away from this workout; that sometimes you'll push and fail, but as long as the failure isn't a total disaster (i.e. causes a long-term injury) they can still be valuable. I now have a better idea what I can do in the heat and humidity, and can use that in the weeks to come. But for now, it is time to recover and prepare for next "quality" day. 92 days to go...
Happy Friday, friends :)
Due to work and school schedules, Fridays have become my main "quality" day for marathon training. I train other days too, but Fridays are the one day on which I can do a workout fresh. Last Friday I worked on endurance, and this Friday I did one of my favorite marathon workouts: Yasso-800s.
Developed by RunnersWorld chief running officer Bart Yasso, Yasso-800s involve a conversion of one's goal marathon time (hour, minutes) into an 800m time (minutes, seconds). So for instance, if I want to run a 3:30 marathon (3 hours, 30 minutes), my Yasso-800 pace should be 3:30 (3 minutes, 30 seconds). The idea is to start with 4x800m, and over the course of several weeks work up to 10x800m.
I'd hoped to do 6 this morning, but ended up only doing 5.5. Here's how it went.
I woke up a bit later than usual, and only managed to grab a banana and a few sips of water before heading out. I walked about 25 minutes to an old cinder track, sipping from a water-bottle and taking in the morning. The sun shone brightly between a smattering of hazy clouds here and there. The temperature at 8:05am (when I left the house) already felt pretty hot, and the air seemed heavy with moisture. A fragrant wind blew across the road as I walked, rustling the trees and causing drops of water to rain upon my head. Nearby I could hear a number of robins warbling away, as well as other birds whose songs I don't know as well. On the whole it was a beautiful morning, and I was glad to have time to enjoy it.
Arriving at the track, I continued to warm-up. Back in college, this would usually involve a period of 10-15 minutes of jogging, followed by a few stretches, and maybe some half-hearted sprint-drills. Lately I've had good results doing something different.
First I jogged a few minutes, then walked a few minutes while doing some dynamic stretches along the way. After that I ran another few minutes, feeling much faster than before. Then I'd walk again for a few minutes, and do some different dynamic stretches, followed by one final bout of running. By the end of this process I felt loose and fast, which is the idea for a warm-up I guess.The final stage of warm-up involved four strides on the track.
For the workout itself, I'd hoped to run 6x800m in 3:30. The splits for first 5 went as follows--3:15, 3:18, 3:19, 3:17, 3:16. As you can see, from the start I was going faster than I wanted, and while such a pace shouldn't be that hard, I found myself feeling pretty awful by the end of the 5th rep.
Should I run the 6th? I thought. Generally I would say no, especially if I wasn't feeling great. Today, however, I elected to try a little test: start the last rep, and see how things went.
I did this because sometimes getting started is the hardest part of a rep. I don't know why this is, but it may be a bit like cleaning your room or doing homework...the thought of doing it is more distressing than the actual doing. So while I was definitely not feeling that last 800 this morning, I decided to start and see what happened.
As it turned out, starting wasn't enough this time. I got to the 400m mark a few seconds behind pace, and just decided to call it a day.
On the whole, however, I felt today's workout was very positive. Because the grass was so wet, the warm-up and cool-down were done exclusively on pavement, which is good because I'll need to get accustomed to running on pavement for the race. Working-out in the heat and humidity was also helpful, because the conditions could be quite humid in DC, even at the end of October. Both elements fit into the larger scheme of increasingly-specific training as the date of competition approaches.
Finally, I was glad to have tested myself, even if the test didn't come off well. I'm usually pretty cautious about pushing the envelope, but sometimes doing so can yield great benefits, even when the push doesn't pan out.
And that might be the most important take-away from this workout; that sometimes you'll push and fail, but as long as the failure isn't a total disaster (i.e. causes a long-term injury) they can still be valuable. I now have a better idea what I can do in the heat and humidity, and can use that in the weeks to come. But for now, it is time to recover and prepare for next "quality" day. 92 days to go...
Happy Friday, friends :)
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Something I learned from reading other blogs
I don't read many blogs, but I often find it interesting to see how other bloggers go about their business. Some make small posts to bring attention to interesting things they've read, or to answer questions about their field. Greg Mankiw, a Harvard economics professor, writes a blog like this.
Others write long, detailed posts about topics related to their profession. Drs. Ross Tucker and Jonathan Dugas, two physiologists from the University of Cape Town and writers of The Science of Sport blog, are examples of this type.
I've also seen blogs with posts of varying length about anything the writer likes, updated almost every day. My friend Sam Stortz writes a blog like this.
Blogs therefore come in all manner of forms, and no form seems more correct than another. They're all quite different, sure, yet they all work. Why they work is a good question, and I don't have a great answer except that they don't seem to make themselves out to be anything but what they are. This is a good quality I think, because it allows the bloggers to write from the heart, which might be the truest voice we all possess.
So if we want to write a blog (or indeed do anything in life), I think we should not fear to be oursleves. Others may not like us or our work, but that will be true no matter how we express ourselves. Might as well keep it real, so to speak.
Just a thought.
Happy Thursday, friends :)
Others write long, detailed posts about topics related to their profession. Drs. Ross Tucker and Jonathan Dugas, two physiologists from the University of Cape Town and writers of The Science of Sport blog, are examples of this type.
I've also seen blogs with posts of varying length about anything the writer likes, updated almost every day. My friend Sam Stortz writes a blog like this.
Blogs therefore come in all manner of forms, and no form seems more correct than another. They're all quite different, sure, yet they all work. Why they work is a good question, and I don't have a great answer except that they don't seem to make themselves out to be anything but what they are. This is a good quality I think, because it allows the bloggers to write from the heart, which might be the truest voice we all possess.
So if we want to write a blog (or indeed do anything in life), I think we should not fear to be oursleves. Others may not like us or our work, but that will be true no matter how we express ourselves. Might as well keep it real, so to speak.
Just a thought.
Happy Thursday, friends :)
Brief reflection on tests
While taking a test this morning for my community college class, I suddenly began wondering about tests generally. What are they for? And how do they influence our lives?
These seem like important questions, particularly since tests seem to pop up all the time. To secure a drivers license for example, I had to pass a test. Tests like this are pass/fail; the score is relevant only to the extent that it places your performance above or below threshold.
To earn a particular grade in the class I'm taking, I'll have to secure a particular average score on the tests the professor assigns. These tests are also pass/fail, but ones for which it generally pays to put greater distance between yourself and the pass/fail threshold. In other words, you can achieve a "pass" without accruing the same benefit as achieving a still-higher mark. Accordingly, some people operate on the margin, in that they'll figure out how hard they have to work to secure a particular grade and work no harder; others try to achieve maximum points on everything. Finally, some aim for a perfect score, but settle if the final outcome is acceptable.
The thing about tests is that they don't exactly measure capacity so much as one's performance at a given moment, under a particular set of circumstances. So if you get tested on an "off" day, the results probably will not match what you might have done when "on." Perhaps it's like running a time-trial at the start of a season; the test measures performance at the moment, under a set of circumstance, but not how one will perform at the championship event. The time-trial is certainly useful, in that it provides some feed-back about what is strong and what is not; but it seems a limited tool for judging how a person will do down the road.
So tests seem to have utility, but more as a measure of where you are rather than where you will go. It's easy to overlook this fact when tests are used to determine your grade, or indeed what you can do with your future...I do it frequently enough. Whether you achieve a good mark or otherwise, at the end of the day it seems important to remember what a test really measures and what it doesn't. Something to think about, anyway.
Happy Thursday, friends :)
These seem like important questions, particularly since tests seem to pop up all the time. To secure a drivers license for example, I had to pass a test. Tests like this are pass/fail; the score is relevant only to the extent that it places your performance above or below threshold.
To earn a particular grade in the class I'm taking, I'll have to secure a particular average score on the tests the professor assigns. These tests are also pass/fail, but ones for which it generally pays to put greater distance between yourself and the pass/fail threshold. In other words, you can achieve a "pass" without accruing the same benefit as achieving a still-higher mark. Accordingly, some people operate on the margin, in that they'll figure out how hard they have to work to secure a particular grade and work no harder; others try to achieve maximum points on everything. Finally, some aim for a perfect score, but settle if the final outcome is acceptable.
The thing about tests is that they don't exactly measure capacity so much as one's performance at a given moment, under a particular set of circumstances. So if you get tested on an "off" day, the results probably will not match what you might have done when "on." Perhaps it's like running a time-trial at the start of a season; the test measures performance at the moment, under a set of circumstance, but not how one will perform at the championship event. The time-trial is certainly useful, in that it provides some feed-back about what is strong and what is not; but it seems a limited tool for judging how a person will do down the road.
So tests seem to have utility, but more as a measure of where you are rather than where you will go. It's easy to overlook this fact when tests are used to determine your grade, or indeed what you can do with your future...I do it frequently enough. Whether you achieve a good mark or otherwise, at the end of the day it seems important to remember what a test really measures and what it doesn't. Something to think about, anyway.
Happy Thursday, friends :)
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Training update 1: Marine Corps Marathon
These days, I've been training for the Marine Corps Marathon (MCM), which is scheduled to happen approximately 102 days and the 13 hours (28 October) from the moment I publish this post. It's the second marathon for which I've ever registered, and with the "100 days to go" point approaching, I decided to make a little update of how the training is going.
In broad terms, preparation has been considerably better this time than for my first marathon last year. At about this time last year, I started a job involving a lot of lifting and many hours on my feet. This made training difficult, and the harder I tried to push through it the worse I did. I still have that job (thankfully), but in the interval I've adapted a bit to the work, such that it doesn't wear me out to the same degree as before.
With that said, my legs still won't allow for a hard-core training regimen, so I've had to adjust. The general scheme I'm following centers on two big ideas: progression and specificity.
By progression, I mean a series of shifts from one type of training to another. As inferred from above, I can't really train hard all the time like a lot of top athletes, so I need to start small and build gradually. Two months ago, I trained about 30 minutes 3-5 days a week, emphasizing time and easy effort over speed and difficulty. These days, I train about 30 minutes one or two days, 45 minutes two days, and about an hour one day (lately it's been Friday), with an emphasis on building endurance. In the next two months, I'm looking to gradually increase the hour workout to 2 or 2.5 hours, the purpose of which is to acclimate the body to running for several hours straight, which is what it will experience during the marathon. This leads to the second big idea, specificity.
Specificity entails the development of components of fitness specific to a particular race, climate, or goal. For the MCM, I need to be able to run for several hours on asphalt, over a fairly flat course, in whatever kind of weather appears in DC on October the 28th. I also have a personal goal of running 3:30 (8:00/mile, 4:58/km) for the distance. These specific goals and conditions require specific adaptations.
So the general plan I'm following involves a progression from general types of training to increasingly-specific types as the day of the race approaches. Right now, I run primarily on dirt trails and grass; as the race approaches, I'll look to increasingly run on asphalt. These days I run for an hour at most; as the race approaches, I'll look to run as long as 2.5 hours. Finally, most of my running at the moment is at a fairly slow speed; as the race approaches, I'll look to include some work at my marathon goal-pace. The main idea uniting "progression" and "specificity" involves first becoming generally fit, then race-specifically fit.
I don't know how well this program will work, but so far it's gone well, and I'm thoroughly enjoying the process. Almost no one will be blown away by amount of training I'm doing, but I believe it will help me get to the starting line on October 28th feeling excited and ready to enjoy the experience of a marathon run. We'll see in a few months with any luck!
Happy Tuesday, friends :)
In broad terms, preparation has been considerably better this time than for my first marathon last year. At about this time last year, I started a job involving a lot of lifting and many hours on my feet. This made training difficult, and the harder I tried to push through it the worse I did. I still have that job (thankfully), but in the interval I've adapted a bit to the work, such that it doesn't wear me out to the same degree as before.
With that said, my legs still won't allow for a hard-core training regimen, so I've had to adjust. The general scheme I'm following centers on two big ideas: progression and specificity.
By progression, I mean a series of shifts from one type of training to another. As inferred from above, I can't really train hard all the time like a lot of top athletes, so I need to start small and build gradually. Two months ago, I trained about 30 minutes 3-5 days a week, emphasizing time and easy effort over speed and difficulty. These days, I train about 30 minutes one or two days, 45 minutes two days, and about an hour one day (lately it's been Friday), with an emphasis on building endurance. In the next two months, I'm looking to gradually increase the hour workout to 2 or 2.5 hours, the purpose of which is to acclimate the body to running for several hours straight, which is what it will experience during the marathon. This leads to the second big idea, specificity.
Specificity entails the development of components of fitness specific to a particular race, climate, or goal. For the MCM, I need to be able to run for several hours on asphalt, over a fairly flat course, in whatever kind of weather appears in DC on October the 28th. I also have a personal goal of running 3:30 (8:00/mile, 4:58/km) for the distance. These specific goals and conditions require specific adaptations.
So the general plan I'm following involves a progression from general types of training to increasingly-specific types as the day of the race approaches. Right now, I run primarily on dirt trails and grass; as the race approaches, I'll look to increasingly run on asphalt. These days I run for an hour at most; as the race approaches, I'll look to run as long as 2.5 hours. Finally, most of my running at the moment is at a fairly slow speed; as the race approaches, I'll look to include some work at my marathon goal-pace. The main idea uniting "progression" and "specificity" involves first becoming generally fit, then race-specifically fit.
I don't know how well this program will work, but so far it's gone well, and I'm thoroughly enjoying the process. Almost no one will be blown away by amount of training I'm doing, but I believe it will help me get to the starting line on October 28th feeling excited and ready to enjoy the experience of a marathon run. We'll see in a few months with any luck!
Happy Tuesday, friends :)
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