Today I started training for my first big running goal of 2017, the BMO Vancouver Marathon; the ultimate goal being to run it in a Boston-qualifying time. I’ll follow a 16 week plan that I discovered last year and saw awesome results from, the FIRST Training program. It seems kind of counter-intuitive at first, with the tag line of “Run less, run faster”. I will cheat, because the plan specifies only 3 runs for week, but I’m going to follow the core principles which basically say: quality over quantity, train hard and rest/recover harder. I’ll probably write more about this later but first, let’s recap:
My last attempt at a Boston qualifying time was last October at the BMO Okanagan Marathon in Kelowna, BC. For my age and gender category, I need to run a 3:35:00 or less to qualify. I had run a 3:38-something in June in Banff, so I knew it was definitely within reach if things went well, but I also had not been following any real training plan since the spring, relying on a good cushion of distance under my belt from a few summer trail ultras. Basically, I knew I could finish, but wasn’t sure how fast, and I decided to pace myself “by feel”.
I immediately felt the advantage of living at 1400m and racing at almost sea level, because my comfortable pace was faster than I was normally capable of in Banff, and faster than I had (half-assedly) planned for. I decided to just go with it, and at halfway I was paced to finish in 3:27, which meant I could run the second half 8 minutes slower than the first and still be good to go! Huzahh!! I still felt really good until around 30km and maintained my comfy cushion. Once I started to get more and more tired, I allowed myself to slow down and make use of my cushion, I had earned it. The gap closed more and more, and in the last few km’s I could tell from my pace that I would still make it, but that I would slide in with less than a minute to spare.
I settled into “bare minimum required” mode, and then something bad happened. I was using the Strava app on my phone to track my distance. Strava-lady alerted me over the music playing through my headphones that I had reached 42km. I mentally indulged in a nice little walk break before powering through the last 200 m. I hit 42.2km (the end). Just kidding, by the time I crossed the finish line I rang in at 42.5km on my phone and 3:35:06 on the official time clock, missing the mark by 7 seconds.
I lost my shit. Not because my crappy ancient Samsung Galaxy SIII had failed me (probably from being stuffed in my gnarly sweaty sports bra for three and half hours) but because I had let myself down. Instead of pushing as hard as I could, I had calculated the bare minimum effort I needed to put in knowing my time cushion, and hadn’t bothered to really push myself beyond that. I took the safe route, I always take the safe route, and I was pissed.
I recently had a very informal performance review with my boss, and he told me, with a somewhat mischievous expression, that he thinks I could stand to be more assertive, and that sometimes I hold myself back. This surprised me, as sometimes I worry that I come on too strong, or that I am too pushy, that I should listen more. But it’s got me thinking. Risk is not my forte, if you’ve ever had the dramatic pleasure of lead-climbing or skiing trees with me; this will not be news to you. Your mind can take you so far, but it can also hold you back so hard. I was so upset that day in October that I didn’t even let myself enjoy the fact that I had just accomplished a personal best time.
It’s so easy to fear the worst; and its incredibly frustrating to feel like you are the only thing standing in your own way. What IF I try to ski a line through the trees and I can’t make the turn; what if I suddenly for no reason need to stop and it’s too narrow? I mean, I have no logical reason whatsoever and the likelihood is very low but WHAT IF!?!?!?. Last weekend I had an extreme meltdown that would be great for an episode of “Reasons to not go skiing with your girlfriend” because I just couldn’t DO IT on this particular line through the trees, I couldn’t accept that I didn’t know what was around the corner and I wasn’t willing to go there if I wasn’t 100% sure I could do it. Post girlfriend-apocalypse, my (patient) boyfriend said to me; “What do you do when you sign up for a 100 mile race and you’ve never done that before?”. I said, “I have no idea, but I’ll figure it out”. Sneaky bastard, I see what you did there. But he’s right.
I’m never going to be a huge risk taker, I’m just not, but I want to be someone that explores my physical and mental boundaries and tries to push them, not just identify them and respectfully camp out on the safe side. I look up to those that can do that and that have that mental strength: where do they get it? I want some. I don’t regret going out as fast as I did in Kelowna, I regret not believing in myself enough to push when it got hard and trust that I could hold it until the end. I mean, maybe I couldn’t have, but I would have at least found that new limit. How do you learn to stop thinking so hard and just go for it? How many times do you have incredible ideas that you follow through to 99%, just failing to make that final push to realize them? Just giving up during that 1% (or more) that is actually hard.
I’ve got 16 weeks to train my body and my mind. Luckily I have a very structured training plan for my legs, it’s going to be my brain that’s a little trickier. I’m not sure exactly how I’ll overcome some of my mental fears and barriers, but I’ll figure it out (see what I did there?)
This one time I went running 