The Eugene Diaries: Chapter 5
Finding my happy place
All week long, I dreaded Sunday’s run. Dreaded it.
I didn’t feel like myself. Runs were more of a chore than something I enjoyed. My legs felt fine, but I almost wondered if this wasn’t fatigue. “Why isn’t this fun right now?” I asked myself a variation of that question almost every day. So with a big dog awaiting me Sunday — 18 miles, the last ten at marathon goal pace — I worried if I’d have the goods.
Similar to previous weeks, I spent most mornings inside. The one run outside? A workout I biffed; never finding my groove and running the last of my “fast” miles 52 seconds slower than I would have on a good day. Did I give myself grace for attempting to do so:
In spikes?
With so-so terrain?
With the last mile of the stretch ending with an uphill featuring a quarter mile with deep snow?
Barely.
By the time I got to my monthly therapy appointment Thursday morning, I couldn’t wait to unload. On a bad stretch of running. On an annoying stretch of weather.
Was I being rational? No. Did I know I wasn’t being rational? Yes. What can I say? I was frustrated. Running gives me solace. Makes me happy. Is often the best part of my day.
What happens when the best part of your day isn’t the best part of your day anymore?
I thought a lot about things after I left the session. All this frustration boiled down to two things. Really, one thing.
The weather sucked. And because of that, I couldn’t run outside.
I sheepishly laughed throughout my appointment Thursday. As did my therapist. “The weather will be better in a few days,” we both agreed. The sun finally peeked out on Saturday. At the very least, I’d be going into Sunday’s Long Run in better spirits.
Tuesday’s workout wasn’t the first of the cycle I didn’t put my best foot forward, but it hung over me as the week went on. I wanted so badly to run outside, even if I knew my miles wouldn’t be as fast as I wanted them to be. This was in large part to earlier workouts of the cycle missed as well. The first Long Run of 2024 was supposed to feature some miles at Marathon Pace, but footing wouldn’t allow it. A run last week called for hill and speed work. Again, footing wouldn’t allow it.
Add in the fact that this week would finish at 78 miles total; the most I’ve ever run in seven days. You’ll understand why Sunday arrived and I just didn’t know what my legs would have. Where exactly my fitness was at.
Rather than invite others in, I kept things quiet. I didn’t want to ask friends to run with me at a certain pace, only to miss that pace myself. A bunch of Aksarben Athletic Club members got out for a run Saturday morning at Lake Cunningham. I was sad to miss it for multiple reasons, including the new hats being available.
But while I missed it, I learned the trail was mostly clear. I planned on hitting it first thing Sunday morning, hopeful I had a great workout in me.
This week in podcasting:
Speaking of members of AAC, Nozima Aripova was my guest on the latest Chasing Three Hours! We had a wonderful conversation about her running journey, including how she finds the time for it all, and why she finds herself so curious about pushing her limits.
I met Nozima when I paced the Heartland Half Marathon back in September of 2023. It’s been fun following along and I look forward to seeing what’s next for her as 2024 unfolds.
Know someone you think would be a good guest on the pod? Drop me a note: chasingthreehours@gmail.com!
The log:
January 22nd: 6 miles in the AM + 4 miles in the PM
January 23rd: 10 miles with 4 at LT pace
January 24th: 15 miles
January 25th: 6 miles
January 26th: 13 miles
January 27th: 6 miles
January 28th: 18.01 miles with 10 at Marathon Pace + .5 mile cool down
Total: 78.51 miles
Year to date: 289.76 miles
January 22nd: The week began like many will throughout the next three months, with doubles. Neither run was all that memorable or enjoyable. 9:14-per mile in the morning, 9:12-per at night. 121 average heart rate in the morning, 124 average heart rate at night. For whatever reason, I didn’t feel super comfortable to start the week. I didn’t sleep that great on Sunday, so I chalked it up to that, hoping I’d wake up in better spirits for Tuesday.
January 23rd: Tuesday’s workout called for ten total miles, with the middle four at my Lactate Threshold pace. On a good day, I’d be going sub-6:00 for each. On a day like this, with spikes on, ice and snow at various spots, I settled for a 6:15ish pace.
I built up to the fast stuff taking things fairly easy. 8:12, 7:49, and 7:45. Honestly, at this point I could tell it wasn’t going to be my day. My HR was just high enough, the footing just bad enough, that I didn’t think I’d be able to execute like I’d normally hope for.
I held on fine enough for the first two LT miles, finishing in 6:12 and 6:15. As I made the turn five miles in, I knew I’d lose a little time, but didn’t think it would be too much. It was, finishing in 6:27. As I mentioned above, the final mile clocked in at 6:52. By this point, I was downright pissed. Angry at the weather. Angry at the snow all the way up the hill at Pacific.
Angry at myself, for not just doing this workout on the treadmill.
I finished with three more miles easy to knock out the ten. 7:23-per with an average HR of 155. My LT miles averaged 6:27.
Days later, I am happy I had a run like this. Adversity and such. And I most certainly learned a lesson in stubbornness. Sometimes I need suboptimal runs.
January 24th: I can’t remember exactly when I decided I’d keep Wednesday’s run of 15 miles inside, but as I made my way to the apartment gym, I almost slipped and fell five times. A much better decision than the one I made the day before.
Kept things at eight miles per hour on the treadmill from start to finish, going 7:30-per. My HR averaged 136, which, given the pace, felt much better than either of Monday’s runs. I was still a bit down from Tuesday’s workout, but by this point I was looking to Sunday and trying to figure out how it would go.
January 25th: With 35 miles under my belt to start the week, I welcomed Thursday’s six miles, especially given I’d do them at recovery pace. Again I made my way to the gym and again I ran 6.5 MPH. 9:12-per with the HR averaging 115. Much better than either of Monday’s runs. By this point in the week, my runs were improving and sun was in the forecast.
January 26th: Even with cloud cover on Friday, I woke up prepared to knock out 13 miles on the trail. I had everything on, kissed Riss goodbye, and went outside.
I almost slipped and fell twice on my way to my car, so I made the turn back home to get some shorts and trudged on over to the gym. I think this is when peak annoyance reached. I just wanted one normal run this week and I suddenly felt like it was never going to happen. As I started my run, I really didn’t know what to expect. High HR? Mind wandering? Seemingly everything was on the table.
So wouldn’t you know it, it was probably the best treadmill run I’ve ever had. 13 miles, eight MPH, 7:30-per, with my HR averaging 125. Silly stuff. My HR is always lower inside than outside, but I didn’t expect that.
In hindsight, it should have prepared me for what was next.
January 27th: While I was unable to join the AAC crew Saturday morning, going out a bit later ended up helping me out big time. I made my way to Flanagan for six recovery miles, figuring West Papio might have a bit of slush to deal with. I’d have wind in my face heading north, but wind at my back at the turnaround, which was nice. I started the run and felt… good?
The weather still sucked. I didn’t see the sun at all. The wind was a bit biting at times, especially since I wasn’t running super hard. It helped that my pace — 8:53-per mile — and HR — 123 on average — were as low together as they ever have been. But I found myself happy to be out there1.
I came out of so many runs inside to find my fitness improving before my very eyes. At this point, I was more curious than anything about Sunday. Would I have it?
January 28th: I would.
The gameplan for Sunday was four miles easy, four miles progressively faster, ten miles at Marathon Pace. Given we’re aiming for 2:49:59 right now, I hoped to average 6:29 across the final ten miles. I’d done it before, I could do it again.
Outside of a couple spots, footing was pretty darn good at Cunningham. As I set off east across the dam, I felt strong. I settled in and checked my watch for the first time about a tenth of a mile in. I was running close to a 7:00-mile. “Oops!” It wouldn’t be the first time I’d check my watch, surprised at how fast I was running. Surprised at how it didn’t feel like I was running as fast as I was.
When it was time to push the pace for miles 5-8, I again went a little too fast. Instead of 7:30, 7:15, 7:00, and 6:45 like I planned, I went 7:08, 6:54, 6:46, and 6:31. By the time I hit my MP pace miles, I had just finished what was essentially a bonus MP mile!
I decided to see what I could do. Instead of hanging around 6:30, I often saw 6:1x on my pace. Low 6:20s. The miles rolled off me. It wasn’t easy, but it felt smooth. Good. It felt right. I made my way past my car for the second and final time2, grabbing a water bottle off the trunk. My pace slowed for the first real time, as I had to cut through some snow up a hill. I also had to make a 90-degree turn to get back onto the dam. Mile 13 would cut it close. Could I hit my goal on this mile, given my pace at one point showed 7:xx? A couple minutes later, I got my answer.
6:25.
The final two miles approached and it all started hitting me. This crappy start to the year on the trail. How little fun I’ve had. How I needed a run like this. How I was killing it with my workout.
How this workout was coming at the end of a 78-mile week.
The most miles I’ve ever ran.
With a mile and a half to go, I decided my last mile would be the fastest. I’d be able to look back on this run on race day in April. I’ll assuredly have tired legs with a couple miles to go, just like I had tired legs this week. I’d have some elevation gain near the end, but I’d finish on a downhill. I hit the phill as hard as I could, but given it was the iciest part of the entire lake, I lost a little time. It made the downhill all the sweeter though, and I pushed hard at the finish. My watch beeped at me and it indeed was my fastest mile.
6:18.
All told, I averaged 6:45-per mile across those 18 with my HR averaging 161. I hoped for 6:29s on the MP miles and averaged 6:21.
On my way around the northern most part of the lake, I took in the views in a way I haven’t been able to lately. The frozen water. The sun, in the sky. The blue of it all. I smiled. Three loops meant I got to take in that view three times.
Look, I don’t know if that’s what made me run faster out there, but I can say I haven’t felt this good on a run since 2023.
On Sunday, running was the best part of my day again.
If not a bit stressed, too. I hate seeing people out on ice, especially with temps climbing above freezing throughout the day.
Cunningham is a 10k/6.2-mile loop, which makes it optimal for workouts like this one.