When Running Became a Team Sport – 48.6 Miles of Dopey

I started running, in part, because it was an individual event. I could go when I wanted, as far as I wanted, as slow as I wanted…you get the picture. I gravitated to it because I could do it alone; no one had to depend on me. I suppose this was attractive to me because I didn’t think I was very good at it – and maybe I didn’t even like it very much.

Over the years, I learned to enjoy races with friends and joined training groups, but the practice of running and racing was still very much an individual sport for me. When I attend a running group, I still run my own pace and distance, feeling no need to stick with the group. When I run races with friends, I treat it more as an opportunity to spend a couple of hours catching up while doing an activity – honestly, we could just as easily be catching up over wine. When I run races by myself, it is always to accomplish a goal that only I have control over (pace, distance, whatever).

All of this changed when I ran the Dopey Challenge at Disney World January 9-12, 2020. For those of you who have been keeping track, you know that I chose to run the Dopey through Team Fox, supporting the Michael J. Fox Foundation. That’s how I saw it: I was going to run and register for the races “through” Team Fox. They were my broker – and, of course, a charity I am raising money for (there’s still time to donate!). I found the name “Team Fox” to be cute, smart, and catchy – I didn’t think it was a literal description of the group of people I was about to meet. And then we got to Orlando.

On the morning of the 5K, I managed to find a few Team Fox runners through the Facebook group set up for the event by Team Fox HQ. I’m always a little awkward in those situations and I was ready to get the 5K out of the way – but I was there through Team Fox and I thought I might as well introduce myself. T and my mom stayed off to the side and I walked over to awkwardly introduce myself. Keep in mind – it was early – as in 4:30 a.m. I didn’t know anyone, but managed to bring myself to say hello. Everyone was kind and said hello, but they clearly knew each other already and continued their conversations. One of the group, J, introduced himself and asked my connection to Parkinson’s and the Fox Foundation. Somehow he quickly deciphered that my mom was my connection and she was there – so, naturally, he wanted to meet her.

J is an inspiration. Diagnosed with early-onset Parkinson’s in his 40s, he is that person who perseveres seemingly for the sake of (and the fun of) conquering the challenge. The Dopey Challenge 2020 marked just shy of 40 marathons for him (and I’m sure countless 5Ks, 10Ks, Half Marathons, and other-distance races). So he’s the guy who runs marathons and make friends everywhere…leaving inspiration and a heavy dose of snark in his wake.

J easily folded us in with the rest of the Team Fox crew that 5K-morning. I peeled off and ran my 5K (too fast, but I had a hard time slowing myself down).

By the morning of the 10K, we knew where to find the Team Fox crew and found both familiar and new faces there. I found the courage to make a little more small-chat, then made my way to my corral to run my race. Again, I ran faster than I should have, but made an effort to slow my pace in an effort to prioritize the preservation of my energy for the next two days over my desire to be done and get to breakfast.

The evening after the 10K was the first time I really met Team Fox. HQ organized a happy hour at one of the Disney resorts, and we had an opportunity to meet both runners and the people who inspire those runners. I was struck by the community in Orlando for Team Fox. It was clear to me that these people knew each other; some of them lived locally, others just came every year. But they all knew each other and their families. And these people immediately took us in. They cornered my mom and T – got all the details, and we were instantly part of the family. I finally got to meet the Team Fox staff members I’d been corresponding with for years. Still, I think the image of being folded into this group is a perfect explanation – they folded us into the group figuratively and, quite literally, with a few hugs.

The morning of the Half Marathon we had a much larger crowd in the Team Fox circle. The near-20,000 runners were milling about and getting excited. Our smaller Team Fox crew grew again as we gathered in our usual spot. I began to feel like I knew these Team Fox people and took the long walk to the corrals with J and S.

S is a joy. His connection to Team Fox, like mine, is through a parent. I found camaraderie in his desire to get to the corrals early, comfort in his relaxed approach to everything, and joy in his presence. But the party-trick he brought to the game was his ease with all social media! This man ran and did multiple installments of Facebook Live with a huge smile on his face (and without falling on said face). Amazing.

Back to the Half Marathon, though. Before I forget, I should mention that Orlando was unseasonably warm for the 2020 Dopey Challenge. While the warmer temps (lows around 70 degrees Fahrenheit) were fine during the shorter runs because we started and finished in the dark, the heat on the longer runs with the accompanying sun promised to be more of a challenge.

J, S, and I made our way to the start line together. We were in the same corral and these men kindly waited for me as I waited in the port-a-pottie line. We made it to the corral just before the race started. As a newbie, I let J, who is Perfect Dopey, guide me. If I thought I went out too fast for the first two races, J led me out at a snail’s pace. The three of us (J, S, and I) stuck together for three or four miles until we passed the Team Fox cheering section just before the Magic Kingdom. I was running much slower than I trained for, but I still feared what would happen in the heat and humidity if I went out too hard. I had a whole marathon left, and I chose to trust J. So I ran the entire Half Marathon with J. Looking back, I’m pretty sure J took the opportunity to coach me and felt like I needed some distraction. That man has stories and I heard a lot of them on those 13.1 miles. Did they distract me? Yes. Did we end up doing a Half Marathon in negative splits? Yes. Did I delude myself into thinking I was helping him, but J was really helping me? Absolutely.

We had the official Team Fox dinner on Saturday night between the Half and Full marathons. Again, this was a first for me. I’d never taken advantage of a pre-race carb-loading dinner. I’d never been part of a team in running, either. Maybe it began to dawn on me that this was a team event at dinner.

Sunday morning, we woke up way too early (2:45 a.m.) and got to our Team Fox circle location on time (by 3:30 a.m.). Now we knew these people. Now, these were our people. Without much discussion, J, S, and I again headed toward our corral. I think the original, unspoken, plan was to approach the marathon as we had the Half: stick together at the beginning, then run our own races at the end. But something changed. I’m not sure any of us could identify, even now, what happened, but it definitely happened. All I know is that we stuck together for the entire marathon. I know for certain that both J and S are faster runners than me – no matter the distance. But I also know, with some certainty, that they did not hold themselves back only for me during the marathon. Sure – I had several moments when one or both of them were the reason I felt that I could (or needed to) keep going. I also suspect, though, that there were times when I did the same for them. This was the first time I truly saw the ebbs and flows of my personal marathon experience held up against the ebbs and flows of someone else’s marathon experience.

In the end, I needed J & S for miles 18-22. And, with the heat and the humidity and the alignment of the stars, I think they needed me at other times. Regardless, we finished the race and we finished it together.

Just after we crossed the finish line, Disney decided to shorten the course due to the heat. So, there are some other things I know. First, I would not have finished when I did if I had not run with J and S that day. I don’t even know if I would have finished in time to avoid the shortened course. Second, I came away from the experience feeling stronger than I thought I was. Stronger physically and stronger emotionally. Third, I experienced the joy of running an individual event as a team.

I’m not sure how to adequately explain this concept of an individual event feeling like a team event. My “team events” growing up were limited to theater and choir – each person played their part and each part was required for the larger thing to happen properly. My misconception of distance running as an individual sport where any support I got was in the training and not in the execution is understandable – and it was true for me for a very long time. I am forever grateful that I see the potential and the benefits of running as an individual who is willing to accept the encouragement, wisdom, energy, and companionship of others in the pursuit (and accomplishment) of big, lofty race goals. I cannot thank my Team Fox colleagues enough because THAT lesson is priceless to me.

Now – for those of you reading this for more Run Disney and Dopey Challenge tips, here are some other take-aways:

  1. If you are going to do a Theme Park during your trip, be purposeful about it. We chose to do only one (Universal for Harry Potter World) and did it on the 5K day. Of all the days to do it, the 5K day was the right one. My legs weren’t too tired and I didn’t worry too much about the exertion getting in the way of the upcoming, longer races. That said, my feet were tired by the end of the day at Universal, even though I didn’t think we did that much walking. I’m sure, with some practice, I could feel comfortable doing multiple parks, but for the first year I think one park was perfect.
  2. Find a local (or a huge Disney fan) to tell you where all the bathrooms are in the parks. No joke. There will be port-a-potties everywhere and if you need to use one, you’ll have plenty of opportunity. But, if you prefer a real bathroom with lights, a toilet seat, running water, and soap, there are plenty of them in the Disney parks and they are all open during the races. The trick is knowing where they are so you fine the ones without the long lines.
  3. If you want a shadow box for all your bling, and you don’t want to make it extra-personalized, use one of the deals offered by Disney at the Expo or online – the deals don’t last long, and they may seem expensive, but they are at least half the price of a custom order at home.

If you want donate to my Dopey Challenge, you can do so here. Thank You.

The Temptation to Quit

With about two weeks to go before the Dopey Challenge begins, I find myself battling the temptation to pull back on my training. I’ve stuck to my running schedule, no matter where we were over the last year – vacations and all. But here (apparently) is where it gets hard.

Last weekend I finished my longest run of the training schedule – 9 miles on Friday and 20 miles on Saturday – and I did it away from home. I even totaled about 44 miles for the week. It was hard. My friends and family congratulated me. In prior training efforts I’ve hit a wall before my 20-mile long run and felt the desire to quit. But this time I managed to get to the longest part of the training program without too much mental fatigue. I was proud of myself.

And then came the week after – which coincides (nicely?) with the Christmas holidays. I so want to sleep in, put my feet up, sit by a cozy fire with some coffee in my pjs — to schedule my holidays without trying to squeeze in both a sleep-in and a run before family festivities.

And yet, the race is so close and I’ve already worked so hard. My legs are tired. My feet are tired. Apparently, my brain is also tired.

So, I will wake up in the morning and pick up my training program right where it is. I will savor my rest days, but only as they are scheduled, and I won’t create any new ones.

I know I’m prepared and I know I can do it, but the challenge for the next two weeks will have little to do with the miles and will be, instead, to maintain the dedication and confidence to continue the preparation to the very end.

If you want donate to my Dopey Challenge, you can do so here. Thank You.

Giving Thanks

I’ve seen many pictures of Turkey Trot runs and Thanksgiving dinner tables today. I’m still mid-training schedule for the Dopey in January, so I made sure to fit in my training run – but it wasn’t a Turkey Trot of the type I’m used to (cold, wet, rainy). On my 8 miles today, I had plenty of time to contemplate what I’m thankful for. Here’s what I came up with.

  1. I’m thankful that I am capable of running. I injured myself a few weeks ago and had to take about 2 weeks away from my training schedule. It stressed me out. I got anxious about whether I could complete my training schedule; scared I would let myself and my charity down. It was hard to listen to the people around me (fellow runners, coaches, and overall good people) when they told me that it would all work out and I just needed to let my body heal. But, heal it did and when I ran this morning I spent a good deal of time noticing where it didn’t hurt – and I am thankful for all of it.
  2. I’m thankful for all my family (both blood and chosen family). We couldn’t all spend the day together this year, but through the benefits of technology, I’ve been able to touch base with most of them today in one way or another. We are spread across the globe – and still so connected. That alone is inspiring to me.
  3. I am thankful for the luxury of time. We didn’t have big plans or a big gathering this year. I still have to go to work tomorrow. But today I gave myself the time to do exactly what I wanted to do and nothing more. I got to cook the Thanksgiving menu I wanted; I got to run after breakfast; I got to watch cooking shows in the morning and football in the afternoon.

And I’m thankful for how this blog grounds me and makes me present in what I do. I’m always thinking about how to translate my experiences onto a post – which means that I have to be present in what I’m doing – observing it as it happens; noticing the small things and the larger context. I started this project as a way of documenting my journey to the Dopey Challenge for myself, and my friends and family. It remains a platform for that and my fundraising efforts. But it has become more for me – it has become a means of mindfulness and gratitude as well.

Happy Thanksgiving.

If you want donate to my Dopey Challenge, you can do so here. Thank You.

The Coaches in our Heads (For Leo)

I am always surprised at the ability of a coach to continue coaching far after the coaching event. I had a coach who wanted me to focus on my form, so she told me to think about kicking my butt with my feet. This was intended to both straighten my stride and make sure I picked up my feet. I had a coach who wanted me to focus on my upper-body form, so he told me to put my arms at a 90 degree angle, curl my fingers, and think about brushing my fingers across my waistband as I swung my arms with my stride.

The moments these coaches shared these tips with me took mere seconds, but every time I run I think of them. Every time I’m struggling and tired, I think of these moments with my coaches because they center me in the moment, the run, and my body. These coaching moments improve my running experience for years because they take me out of my head and into the experience of the run.

We lost a coach a couple weeks ago. He was one of those quiet coaches. He would run up along side you and chat. No matter how slow you were moving or how far you had to go, he’d slip in and join you where you were at – on all the levels (pace, emotion, distance). He shared his running stories and, in doing so, made you feel a part of the running community, his 50 years of running history, and completely supported in your own individual running journey.

In memory of Leo, my recently-adopted running community ran the race he had been training for, in his honor. He wanted to get a Boston-qualifying time. By all accounts he was running well and he would have easily made it. We wanted to get his bib across the line within his BQ time. We wanted it for him, we wanted it for his surviving spouse, and we wanted it for us.

So our dedicated and loving coaches at SWET got the race director’s approval and we ran our own relay through the 26.1 miles of the REVEL Mt. Lemmon marathon. We ran because it was our memorial for him. There is more than one person in this group who could have run the entire race in his honor at his BQ pace, but the community of this group is committed to the community part of it. Several of us ran legs down the mountain, then met in one large group a mile away from the finish and ran his bib number in.

Leo’s bib and his cadre of runners finished well within his BQ time. We talked about him on our way through the miles and brought his spirit along with us. I’m certain that his penchant for finding adventure on his runs and his sense of humor created all kinds of adventure and fun for everyone who ran today.

For me, I had a hard run. I found speed at the beginning of my run and decided to run the rest of the course through the finish. My early speed down the steep road early caught up to me and I got tight. I felt sluggish and slow and didn’t want to bog down the rest of the relay team. But, in true Leo-fashion, my fellow runners rallied and rallied me. Remembering Leo’s ability to bring everyone along on a run, no matter their individual abilities or goals, propelled me through my own mental and physical challenges today.

I ran only 12 miles today, and even though it was physically and mentally challenging, Coach Leo stayed with me in my head just like any good coach. Except, Leo’s coaching moment for me wasn’t about form; it was his kindness, encouragement by example, and dedication to simply having fun on every run.

More on my Dopey training later. This one is for Leo.

Adjusting Expectations

I started running with the fine people at Southwest Endurance Training (SWET) recently. I found them because I was looking for an individual running coach. Someone to meet with once a month or so, to work on my form; someone to give me a personalized training plan for this Dopey Challenge I want to train for.

When I met the owners of SWET, they convinced me that running with the group would be better – some company on long runs, but still individual attention from a coach and a customized training plan.

I find it easier to get the motivation to wake up and complete my long run when I know there’s a group of friendly runners waiting for me. I like that the group is informal – if you can’t make it to a run, no one thinks badly of you. The tips from the coaches include how to adjust the training plan to fit in everyday life.

As the time to start training for the Dopey approached, I gave SWET my recent race times, a summary of how I felt after the races in June, and a general idea of my goals. Going into this, I was hoping to finish the marathon portion of the Dopey around 5 and a half hours (about my 5:34 finishing time in 2015), but when Brandon saw my June finishing times he suggested that I adjust my expectations of myself. It turns out that he believes I can run a PR marathon even while running the Dopey Challenge.

At first I found this hard to believe. My race times in June were on a course with a steady, gentle descent. The Dopey may be in Florida, but in my memory, it is neither flat nor downhill. The internet disagrees with me and says that it is “pancake flat.” Since it was my first marathon, my perception of it could be skewed. But perhaps that’s beside the point – I didn’t think it was possible to PR a marathon at the end of an almost 50 mile/4 day challenge. Yet, when I got my pacing plan I realized that the proposed pacing for this race feels slow to me. If it feels slow in the middle of the heat of summer here, maybe I really can do it!

So, I’m beginning to adjust my own expectations: of myself and of my personal running capacity.

Practice

I ran both a Half Marathon and a Full Marathon a couple weekends ago. On two consecutive days. And I survived.

The Half marathon was on Saturday. It started at the Hyak trail head on Snoqualmie Pass. I roped in my cousin (R) and my uncle (K) to run the race. It was K’s first half marathon. The trail head parking lot is large and feels wide-open. I was focused on making sure I had everything, but when I allowed myself to look up and take in the surroundings I noticed ski chalets all around. After we ran about a quarter of a mile, we reached the Snoqualmie tunnel, which runs for almost 2.5 miles beneath the Snoqualmie ski runs. Because we had just started the race, everyone was still bunched together; the crowd couldn’t really thin out much in the tunnel because we couldn’t see enough in front of ourselves to pass anyone safely. Some people wore headlamps, but most of us used the small flashlights the organizers gave us when we checked in. I felt like I was running a good pace, trying to keep up with the people around me, not get dizzy from all the lights and shadows, and not trip on the uneven ground that I couldn’t see. With over 200 people in the tunnel, I expected it to be fairly bright, but it was more dim-glow than bright-lamp. I got into a rhythm and it didn’t really feel like we were in the tunnel for 25 minutes. Somehow, seemingly without anyone passing anyone, I ended up pretty much by myself for the last half of the tunnel. This made it easier to see what was around me and gave me more room to maneuver around the tripping hazards.

Once I got out of the tunnel, the world was nothing but green. Almost 3 miles into the race, the miles seemed to stream by. R and K were long gone, running their own races. I never planned to run alongside them and was glad they seemed to be doing well (something I assumed to be true because I didn’t trip over them in the tunnel and I couldn’t see them in front of me). I was also happy to run my own race, knowing that I’d have to conserve energy for the marathon the next day. In retrospect, I may have spent too much time thinking about conserving energy.

In the moment, I was just running around shaded corners, hearing wind in the trees and waterfalls. I love waterfalls. I don’t know what it is about them specifically; I love everything about them. I love the sound of them. I love the romance of them. A waterfall is one of the few things that can immediately transport me to my childhood imagination. They make me think of Disney movies and the paradox of safe-mischief. So, when I hear or see a waterfall, I feel calm and excited at the same time. I want to savor it and see more of them. On this run, I could see some waterfalls, others were out of sight but were still encouraging.

As I approached the last three miles, I felt like I had energy to spare and could speed up, but I was still preoccupied with the marathon on the schedule for the next day. So, I kept my steady pace. I finished comfortably with all the family and friends at the end. Don’t get me wrong: I definitely felt like I ran 13 miles, but I wasn’t completely spent. I took this as a good sign for my efforts the next day.

The next morning, we got up early and headed back to the same start line for a race that started an hour earlier than the half marathon. The race had noticeably more participants than the half marathon.

For the first five miles, I started at the back of the pack and moseyed my way through the miles. I could have run faster, I suppose, but my legs were tired from the half marathon and I was afraid I’d burn out if I went too quickly. I passed a few people, but really didn’t have an idea of where I was in the pack. I started the race with a woman from Florida. She was traveling in an effort to do a trail marathon in all 50 states. She was lovely, totally relaxed, and in no hurry — so I didn’t stay with her long. Then there was the “sweeper” at the end with the crazy wig, big personality, and great smile. The route starts at the same place as the half, but goes in the opposite direction for 2.5 miles along a lake before turning around and doubling back toward the same tunnel we ran through at the beginning of the half marathon. This meant that I reached the tunnel just after mile 5, instead of within the first quarter mile.

With people spread out, the tunnel was a completely different place. I came with a headlamp this time, in addition to the race-provided flashlight. There weren’t as many people around and, with my experience during the half, I had confidence that this would yield an easier experience through the dark tunnel. It was a less frenetic journey, but still didn’t feel like 25 minutes in the dark. About .25 miles in, I came across an adventurous father with his small daughter on bicycles with headlamps. If they knew they were traversing a 2.4-mile tunnel with a bunch of marathoners, they didn’t seem to mind. Not long after that, I discovered that what I’d thought was a light bulb far ahead the day before was really the tunnel exit. I spent the next 2 miles marveling over how I could see the opening 2 miles ahead! This part was a bit meditative, actually.

The day before, while running the half marathon, the last three miles seemed extremely flat. I felt good, but I was just chugging along. The marathon route covered exactly the same ground as the half, but mile 12 of the half marathon was mile 17 of the marathon. This was great for many reasons, not the least of which was that I could use the half marathon as a scouting run – finding good places to take pictures and getting a feel for half of the marathon route. Yet, I still saw new things on the second day. It turns out, there is a small incline toward the end of the half marathon route that I hadn’t noticed the day before.

Once I passed my cheering family around mile 18, and got past the half marathon finish line, I started exploring anew. Where there is one beautiful trestle on half marathon route, there are an additional half dozen of them in the last 8 miles of the marathon route. And they were beautiful! I came across mountain bikers and walkers. But the most unexpected groups were the throngs of rock climbers hanging (literally) out along the trail. Dogs, children, groups of friends. They all seemed to be having fun and, collectively, did not notice the marathoners plodding past.

This was my third marathon and I still remember the pain and mental challenges of the first two. I specifically remember the feelings of needing to walk, of my legs and feet being unwilling to cooperate and continue moving in the same fashion. I vividly remember giving myself pep talks during the Mt. Lemmon marathon. But this race was different.

This time, I was sore and my legs were tired, but I didn’t fell like I needed to walk. I didn’t need to give myself pep talks about fighting through the pain. When I ran past some people I knew at a water stop, I even had enough energy to run backwards for a few steps so I could keep talking to them as I continued heading toward the finish line! About four miles from the finish, I thought I’d try to pick up my pace. I knew I had more the day before and, since I didn’t have to run again the following day, I thought I’d see if I could push myself for the remaining miles. At that point, I’d slowed to a 12:30 minute mile pace. I only wanted to get back to an 11:30 or 11:45 mile pace.

I blew through the final water station. The entire course was a gentle downhill, but the last half mile was unexpected and a significantly steeper grade downhill. According to my Garmin watch, I got up to a 6:30 minute pace by the finish line.

I’ve been processing this experience for a few weeks now. I am both blown away by myself and, simultaneously, puzzled. The training felt so hard and there were so many times it seemed impossible that I could finish with anything close to a time I would consider “good” for a stand-alone race. But I accomplished that for both races anyway. I’m sure it had something to do with training at double the elevation in close to double the heat. I’m certain that the consistent downhill grade had a significant impact on my success here.

I’ve been taking a bit of a break from running, though not complete. It is still summer in Arizona, so I’m allowing myself to enjoy spinning classes and treadmills for a few weeks before diving head first into my Dopey training schedule in August. I am preoccupied right now with trying to get into a mental space where I can have confidence enough to train for faster times, but also enough kindness for myself that I won’t get upset with myself if I don’t accomplish the times I train for during the actual races. This is my new challenge. But for the next week, I’m going to focus on my self-care and attempt to detach from the training ahead.  

Vacation Running

We have traveled quite a bit over the last couple of months. Not long trips, but most of our weekends the last month have been spent somewhere other than at home. When we booked these trips I knew I would be in the home stretch of my training program for the Marathon and a Half coming up at the end of June. My solution was to rearrange the training schedule so the longer runs happened either when we were actually at home, or when we were somewhere fairly comfortable without a lot of other plans.

I’ve concluded that this was a mistake.

Let me back up a little and give myself a few kudos before beating myself up. I’ve never been good at making time for exercise while “in vacation mode.” It hasn’t ever mattered how minor the “vacation,” or how insignificant the exercise; if I had to sleep in a bed other than my own and bring a bag of clothes, I was on vacation. And, vacation = no concentrated, intentional exercise. Now, if I accidentally burned a bunch of calories because we walked for miles through a city and its shops: Bonus!

On our honeymoon, I brought running clothes to an all-inclusive resort. We were there for two weeks. I used them once for 30 minutes. That’s it. I just couldn’t fit any other trips to the gym in to my packed schedule: sleep, eat, drink, read by the pool, repeat.

So, I’m sure you can see how the idea of building in back-to-back training runs in multiple vacation locales this spring seemed daunting to me. Result: modification of an otherwise logical training plan.

Instead of the original plan (long run weekend followed by recovery week/shorter runs the following weekend), I grouped the shorter runs on consecutive weeks, leading to grouping the longer runs on consecutive weekends. Not only did I give up my recovery weeks, by not doing the longer runs on vacation, I ended up doing the longer runs in the Arizona heat! Sure, if I had done my 16- or 18-mile run while in San Francisco it would have seriously cut into our relaxation time – but it would have been so much cooler!

I can second guess myself all day long, but I can also acknowledge that it is a pretty big deal that I allowed myself to do any runs on a trip away from home. Serious personal growth here.

Clearly, there is something to the order of the training runs in this program. Clearly, it is better to give the body some time to recover between long runs. I’m used to the idea of progressively longer runs on successive weeks – but that, apparently, is training for a regular-old-marathon. This time I’m training for long runs on consecutive days – I’ve taught myself the hard way that recovery is even more important. At the same time, I taught myself that I can still have a great time on vacation while fitting in significant amounts of exercise. This has been a very educational spring, indeed.

Spring Has Sprung

Spring in the desert is so much fun – it is also one of the most beautiful times. We get perfect weather to be outside all day, can still wear more than flip flops, shorts, and tanks, and all the new growth is inspiring.

Running long distances, though – that becomes more of a challenge. It gets warmer, the temperatures rise earlier, and the air remains dry. This means hydration is both more important and harder to keep on top of.

With longer days, warmer temps start earlier in the day, too. Last year I went for a run later in the morning than usual when I knew temps would reach 90 that day. I told myself I needed to “get used to” running in the heat – we’d chosen this desert wonderland as our home and I convinced myself that I needed to acclimate…quickly. The result: I got so tired I stopped picking up my feet about a mile from home, tripped, and skinned my knee pretty badly about 2 weeks out from a half marathon.

The approach this year? I’ve started setting my alarm (on my weekend!) so I can get my long runs done before the “feels like” temp reaches the 80’s. As summer approaches, I’m prepared to leave the house while it is still dark to get in my miles before it gets too hot: I purchased a hat light. I think my gear is more prepared for that plan than I am, but I will cross that bridge when I get to it.

For now, I’m going to enjoy the weather we have right now, find all the flowers I can along my routes, and remember that running early means I still have my whole day to do all the weekend-things I want (including naps!).

TBD

I ran a half marathon a couple weeks ago. The first one by myself – the first race, really, without a friend – in a long time. I don’t know when a half marathon became a training run for me. I don’t know that I like that feeling. 13.1 miles is FAR. 13.1 miles is an accomplishment. 13.1 miles is something to be proud of. Don’t get me wrong. That St. Patty’s Day half marathon wasn’t easy. I ran faster than I thought I would – faster than my goal – especially the first half of the race. Then, I turned around on the out-and-back course to spend 6.5 miles running into a 10-14 mph headwind. (Who needs hills when you have a headwind??)

Even though I was proud of myself (and the fact that I got my 2nd best time ever), I kept thinking about all the longer runs I have in my near future. It diminished the feeling of accomplishment. Clearly, this is not the fault of the race or its organizers – this is a mental challenge for me: how do I stay in the present enough to feel accomplished while also using these accomplishments to build confidence that I can do more?

Now, I’ve gone head-first into my training for the Super Fast Half and Marathon in June. This is my preamble to the Dopey Challenge – an effort to see where I am in my training and fitness. And, frankly, an effort to give myself a confidence boost. If I can do a marathon and a half back-to-back, then I should be able to add a 5K and 10K on the days before. Right?

For my last few long races (half and full marathon distances), I’ve used one of the training programs on the Garmin website. The training plans had speed-work, but also focuses on time, rather than distance, for the long runs. When I ran the marathon in November, I discovered that my long training runs probably weren’t long enough in distance because I was going at an easy pace (as instructed), but not far enough to feel comfortable with the marathon distance.

This time around, I found Coach Jenny’s Training online. She has a bunch of training plans, but I really liked that she has specific plans for the Disney races. I’m starting with her Goofy training plan (that’s the Half + Full Marathon training plan) and will move on to her Dopey plan if all goes well in June. The key to these plans is to simulate the back-to-back runs on a regular basis. So, I will spend this spring running on Saturday and doubling that distance on Sunday. Wish me luck!

Fear

I’m sure I will be able to write many more posts about the fear I experience as I prepare to run the Dopey Challenge in January 2020. Really, I could talk about fear in all aspects of life, but this blog is about running, so I’ll focus on that.

I find that my fear creeps in most often in the moments just before I do or decide something. For example, when I start planning out my training schedule for my next race, I get this rush of worry that I won’t do it right – or that I won’t do it at all. What will that mean? What will it say about me? Will I be a failure in everything if I’m not as successful as I want to be in this one thing? Sometimes, I get a similar (though, less intense) feeling just before a long run or a workout I’m unfamiliar with.

Recently, I started planning out the rest of my running schedule for 2019, as I edge ever closer to the Dopey 2020. I’m running a half marathon over St. Patrick’s Day weekend and have a marathon and a half scheduled for the end of June. Apparently, half marathons don’t scare me anymore. But, when I started mapping out my training schedule for the marathon and a half, I started to panic a little. Could I do this? Is this too ambitious? Will I make it?

It’s all the standard self-doubt stuff. It is designed to stop me before I even get started. This self-talk is well-practiced and it has taken me a lot of time to get as experienced at pushing past it as I am listening to it. I remind myself that the goal is to finish, not to win. The goal is to survive, not to have my best time. Is it bad that my strategy to survive self-doubt is to lower my expectations? Maybe – but it is working for now.

So, I’ve mapped out my training schedule for the next race adventure in June (before I’ve started the March race). And I’m still scared. But, I’ve learned that all I can do for now is put it on the schedule, tell people I’m doing it (for accountability), and make my best effort each day. One foot in front of the other, as they say.

Create your website at WordPress.com
Get started