I’ll skip to the end and say it was a very productive week—my biggest yet since my son was born just about a year ago. After the last few months that I’ve had, that feels great. After the last week in particular, which kicked off with a big snowstorm and rolled right ahead with absolutely freezing conditions, to put up this kind of mileage makes me feel like a maniac.
I wasn’t always this way. In high school and college, I was happy just to show up to practice and do what I was told. I didn’t have many concrete goals—just “get faster,” which puberty mostly accomplished for me—and so I didn’t take much interest in my own training, or the sport at large. Like school, running was something I was pretty good at without having to think too much, and I was happy to let it stay that way.
At the same time, running—like school—had wormed its way into my identity. I took pride in being captain of my high school team, even if I didn’t take enough pride to make sure I actually did a good job at it. So when I barely made the team as a walk-on in college and immediately got hurt, I didn’t question whether I should try to come back. I was so set on running, even without any higher aspirations, even without fully appreciating how tenuous my position on the team was (I got cut as a junior after some of my best performances since high school), that I underwent two surgeries without hesitation.
My priorities were completely out of order, to the point of being non-existent. If you told that kid, even after he went through those surgeries, that he would someday wake up at 4:45 on a Thursday to run 12 miles in single-digit temperatures, and then go to work, he would call you crazy.
But he was crazy. He had no idea why he was doing any of the things he was doing, right down to why he was running in the first place. I’m glad he got those surgeries, because it means I can still run today, but I’m amazed how little he thought about it.
Since then, I’ve immersed myself in the sport, taught myself how to train, and found my why. Just like in high school, I love the pursuit of getting better at something—but I know that now, and I think about it every day, and I can call it what it is. It’s not just a vibe I’m following. I have one last thing to prove, to myself and anyone who cares: that I am good enough to run Boston.
With all that settled, I’d be crazy to stay in bed.
Monday: 7 miles, very easy in the snow as I took stock of the local roads and park paths. Not great, but not bad. My knee held up too, in spite of the poor footing. About four hours of shoveling snow between the morning and evening.
Tuesday: Easy hour on the treadmill with a jog to and from the gym, totaling 9 miles. Getting a membership is already looking like a really smart idea. Missed core because I wasn’t at the office; my son woke up with a fever and had to stay home. Rehab in the evening.
Wednesday: 4 miles at tempo pace (6:00) on the treadmill. 10 miles on the day. Strength at lunch.
Thursday: 12 miles at MLR effort, outside. Absolutely freezing. Struggled with the cold the last few miles.
Friday: Another 9-mile treadmill day. Heart rate reading was really high. Decided I’d consider it a problem if it happened two days in a row.
Saturday: More treadmill, 9 more miles. Heart rate was nice and low. Looks like Friday was a measurement error, or a fluke.
Sunday: 18 miles. Thank goodness I had company; I joined my usual long run crew from miles 6 to 13. Made the decision not to carry water, as it would draw too much heat out of my hands, but I took three gels at miles 5, 10, and 13.
I’m increasing my carb intake for this marathon block by switching to SiS Beta Fuel, which has about twice the sugars of my usual gel. Elite athletes (and sports scientists) are exploring the limits of carbohydrate intake during exercise, with promising results, so I’m following their lead. I’ve been worried about how my stomach will tolerate it, but so far so good—even without water, as I learned today.
I tried to pick up the pace in the last few miles, but my knee hurt a little after 16 miles and I had to back off. It’s frustrating that I’m still not fully healthy, but I’m trying to take these long runs as signs of progress. Last week I made it 14 miles before the pain started, and because of the difference in pace I spent a lot more time running pain-free today. I need to be diligent, but I’m moving in the right direction.
This Week: 74 miles. Thanks to the snowstorm last weekend, I shuffled things around to give myself my highest 7-day total since my son was born, by far. I don’t plan to hit this mileage regularly until later in the block, but this week was a fantastic proof of concept.
Baby: We are pretty sure my son’s first molars are coming in. He has been extremely irritable all week. When he’s not in pain, he’s as happy and playful as ever; he just learned pointing, and he is getting even better at cruising around with support. Unfortunately, he’s in pain a fair amount of the time, and even Motrin can only help so much. We are doing our best to support him as he tries to tough it out. Being a baby is hard.
