Doubt

Forcing myself to power through

I believe in my ability as a runner. 95% of the time, at least. I believe I can reach my goals. That it’s possible not just get better, but to really get better. To push the limits of what I thought was possible as a runner. I believe in myself. Most of the time, believing comes fairly easy.

My mental toughness surrounding running is probably my strongest asset as a runner. Honestly, I’d say it’s one of my strongest assets, period. My natural talent is good enough, but I have a weird way of compartmentalizing most of my struggles. Bad runs will finish up and I’m mentally fast forwarding to the following day, when I know I’ll make up for it. This happens maybe once or twice a month, if that. But I move on.

Which is what made the last week so tough.

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I did a bad job of running in Mexico. In fact, I didn’t run at all. By the time I reached the end of day two, I recognized internally that I wouldn’t be putting my running shoes on a single time over the course of the vacation. I don’t think I verbalized to Riss until a day or two later. I had to convince myself it was ok. And I did a solid job. I told some people about it upon leaving and returning home. “Good for you,” I heard more than once. Like I accomplished something. An odd feeling, to be told, “hey congrats on not running for single week, you weirdo.”

I am what I am.

But I needed it. It was my first week away from working out at all since 2019. It was nice to turn my running brain off for a few days. But I came home and made a mistake, and any physical benefits of not running for a week quickly disappeared.

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In every single race since 2020¹, I’ve set a PR. In both of the half + full marathons, I set goals that went beyond PRs. For example, going into my virtual full marathon in October of 2020, I aimed to finish in under four hours, which I did with a couple minutes to spare. I only missed a goal once².

In Lincoln next month, that would mean running faster than 1:33:47, which I did in the very same half marathon last year. Is it possible? Absolutely. I am faster and stronger than I was a year ago. And unlike last year, I actually have trained for the race³ — 15 weeks by the time I get to Sunday, May 1st. Year over year, I’ve run more miles.

On the other hand, in the lead up to moving (and the time since), I’ve missed multiple runs, including the entirety of last week when I was out of the country. Last year, I started training for the half marathon about four weeks from race day⁴. This year, the last four weeks haven’t gone as planned. What started as a great training cycle has felt more hit and miss in the last month.

Coming home last Friday, I knew I’d be running the following day. 16 miles were scheduled, with the last 1.5 miles done at a faster clip. The longest run of my cycle, and it would follow a week off? I decided to go for it.

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Before 2020, I almost had to rewire my brain for long runs. Sometimes, I’d mentally split runs into three-mile chunks. It wasn’t 15 miles, it was three miles, five times over. Other times, I’d break it up in even weirder ways. It wasn’t 14 miles, it was a countdown to the halfway point. “I’m two miles in? Means I only have five miles until I get to turn around! Then I’ll have three miles, followed by the other four. That’s 14.” I don’t know why I started doing it, or even when. But it helped. I focused on the run while not focusing on the run⁵. Instead, I was doing a math problem. A really slow math problem, that took hours to complete.

Fast forward to last week: By the time I was a couple miles into my run on Saturday, I was counting down to the end. I was bringing back my old tricks. Two miles in, I reminded myself two more miles would mean 25% of the run was finished. And four more after that would get me halfway home. I recognized early on that I was doing something I hadn’t done in a while.

Mentally I was sapped. I knew my body would eventually join This Sucks! party, but I was in rough shape. I couldn’t stop thinking about the run, in the worst ways possible. Rarely do runs seem to last as long as they actually are. This one felt longer.

But, I finished. 16 more miles in the books.

I could tell things were really off when I took Banks for a walk later that afternoon. My quads were starting to feel heavy and my HR was in the zone similar to when I run a 12:00-pace. But I wasn’t running, I was walking a 20+ minute mile. I cut the walk short, needing to relax.

By Sunday morning, I knew I was in trouble. My legs were sore. Every single step I took would hurt. A lot. Walking down the stairs was an adventure of its own. I constantly was using a roller on my legs, hoping to bring the pain down.

I realized I had made a mistake. I shouldn’t have ran that far. I’m usually pretty good at listening to my body. But I didn’t do a good job of it during that run. I could have cut it short. I should have cut it short. And I paid for it.

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I don’t know why a simple mistake put me in the headspace it did, but Sunday and Monday were two of my toughest days as a runner. I knocked out my Sunday run, taking it easy. And I decided to move my week around a bit, pushing my Monday runs back — I was scheduled for 90 minutes, over the course of a morning and evening run, with the former including speed work — and instead did a lighter, shorter workout. But it was anything but comfortable. My HR was higher than normal, my pace was slower than normal, and it wasn’t enjoyable.

I finished and thankfully had the outlet of the work and the radio show. But I got home and the physical pain, combined with the mental anguish about how the last couple days had gone, left me feeling regret. Regret for taking the week off from running. But more importantly, regret for going after a 16-mile run when ten would have sufficed.

I found my mind drifting to the future, and didn’t feel the usual confidence and excitement. “What if I don’t reach my goals?”

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I recently read a runner describing the feeing of surprise, as they’ve continued running PRs. The anticipating of a ceiling that hasn’t arrived. Waiting to dial things back again. To relax.

I think I’ve been waiting for the same thing. Not that I want to take time off from running — I missed it more than I should have while on vacation — but I can’t help but feel like I’m in the midst of something that’s not sustainable. I sometimes worry a wall is approaching. In my last two fulls, I cut off ~40 minutes year over year and then 12 months later, took off another ~35 minutes. Over an hour off my time, with plenty of room for improvement? Won’t it stop?⁶

Most of the time, I’m mentally figuring out how I’ll get to 2:59:59. I’m thinking about ways to improve. Heck, late this week, I was thinking about June, when the next training cycle will start, and I’ll continue shaving off minutes and seconds.

But at the start of this week, I doubted that. What if I can’t? What if I don’t? What if my training goes poorly? What if I miss more miles?

I knew I’d get past these thoughts. I knew I’d get through it. Each subsequent run was easier than the last. But it required an extra bit of focus that I normally don’t need when I’m getting my miles.

I try not to worry about failure. But when I do, I usually find it in myself to pick myself up fast. This week was a slower process than normal.

I was almost all the way back when I went for a ten-mile run, into the horrible wind, on Saturday morning. After finishing it, I was a bit disappointed in my pace. The run was harder than it should have been. At first, I blamed myself. Leftover frustration from the 16 miles a week prior. And there’s some truth to that, but let’s be real — the wind had gusts higher than 30 mph. I was running into that wind on the way out.

By the end of the night, I appreciated that I battled the wind like I did. Who knows what Lincoln will bring next week. Or what Chicago will bring later this year. Maybe running head first into wind for five miles will prepare me for race day.

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Now? Well, now I can’t stop thinking about October. The last couple of days, I’ve been thinking about realistic goals for the Chicago Marathon. I don’t plan on going after 2:59:59 just yet. But how fast can I run?

I put in a hold at the library for another book about marathon training. I went searching for past Chicago Marathon posters. Wondering what the medal would look like. How much money I’d spend on gear. I booked the flights to and from Chicago.

My best friend and I discussed 2023 and beyond. Which races we’d run, the idea of two fulls in a year. Just talking it out with him had me getting back into a groove. What began as a terrible week ended with me feeling excitement again for what this year could and would bring. My running funk didn’t even last that long, but it feels like it’s officially gone.

Rarely are weeks as up and down as this week was. I haven’t had an up and down month like this at all in the last 2+ years. It sucked. But it’s a good reminder that the gains I have left won’t be easy. I hope it doesn’t happen again anytime soon, but I’m happy to get to the race on Sunday and see what I can do. I’m ready again. I’m ready to run.

I’ll be out there, getting those miles.

1. One 10k, two ten-mile races (both virtual), two half marathons (one virtual), and two marathons (one virtual).

2. In the 2020 virtual Lincoln Half, I set out to run a sub-1:35:00. I finished with a time of 1:35:56.

3. In 2021, I was scheduled to run in the Early Bird 10 Miler in April. But I ended up getting my booster the day before, so I decided to punt on it and run it virtual instead. A wise decision, that Saturday was one that featured lots and lots of rest! Wanting to run something in the spring, I decided to sign up for Lincoln just weeks from race day.

4. Training in terms of following a set plan. But the way I had been running, it’s almost like I had been training for a half marathon already.

5. It doesn’t really make sense to me either!

6. Eventually it will stop. I don’t plan on setting PRs in my 80s!