"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step"
- Laozi (Tao Te Ching)
Many people, myself included, engross themselves in the itty bitty details of training for a race, whether a marathon or a 5K, but the physical regimen is only half the battle. Getting out of bed at 6:30 a.m. and lacing up the trusty ol' running shoes is pretty hard too! And then in the middle of a 20-mile training run on a random Sunday, when the sun is beating down hard, body aching all over, visions of an ice-cold slush - man, oh man!
A few years ago, I was constantly battling allergies and colds. Just for kicks, I started running 3 to 3.5 miles thrice a week. By the following spring, I had a much better handle on my allergies and didn't need antihistamines as much. All for the better, since the prices for my favorite antihistamine skyrocketed. About 4 years ago, I found that I needed a challenge. My regular 3-milers were not cutting it for me and were starting to get stale. I signed up for a the local Suffolk County Half Marathon and started training in mid-January. The training was wrong, as I found out when training for my second half-marathon, but whatever. I got to end of March, woke up the day of the race, and it was raining heavily. Big damper. But I got out of bed anyways, drove to the race location, picked up my race number, and sidled up to the starting line with about 400 others, soaked to the bone, uncertain about what was going to happen. And started I did, fighting the rain, cold, and the lurking feeling that I wasn't going to finish. I could barely see ahead with the droplets pounding off my glasses, fogging up with my breath, but I pushed blindly on, passing runners, letting them pass me, passing them yet again, and finished in under 2 hours! I thought that was pretty good, but the next unsolicited thought was "but I have to do better!" And so, I took a weeklong break, then started training again new, setting my sights on the next race.
My initial training for my first few half marathons was quite mechanical, building up the miles, and just running. But when one sets the bar higher, there comes the need for a mental adjustment. What do you do when you amp up the training, but the body just doesn't want to play along? What if it is just above freezing, or when it's windy, or you are simply just sore? So how do I do it? I need a reason to run, whether it is a regular jog or a training run for a marathon. Nobody runs for no reason. I have found over the years that on days I run, I feel more confident, am more productive, and sleep much better. But that simply isn't enough. I have to set goals for myself. But even more than goals, I need a spark, a singular motivational moment that will trigger my running cycle for the next few weeks or few months. On a cool, sunny Sunday morning in November 2009, I was sitting on my couch contemplating the races I had run that year. It started with the Suffolk County Half Marathon in March, followed up with a much improved run in the Buffalo Half Marathon. Soon after, I convinced my brother to join me in the NYC Half Marathon in August 2009. The race was pure torture - it was hot, humid, crowded - and my brother and I barely slept the night before in a cramped hotel room in midtown Manhattan. After my little triumphs in the two prior half marathons, I was deflated after this one and vowed not to do another half marathon. Then I was introduced to Meb. Despite his shorter stature and advanced age (compared to his running contemporaries), Meb Keflezighi won the New York Marathon in thrilling fashion, becoming the first American to win since 1982. I was hooked and joined the lottery for the following year's marathon the next morning, only to be disappointed when I wasn't selected as part of the lucky thousands. No matter. I had my motivation and joined the New York Road Runners, running 9 races and volunteering at one to be guaranteed entry in the 2011 NYC Marathon.
While I knew I could probably handle the physical demands of training, I had to mentally prepare myself. I started watching inspirational running videos on Youtube. I watched the documentary "Spirit of the Marathon." The sequences in 3:44-3:50 and 4:12-4:35 still give me chills every time I watch the trailer below and ALWAYS motivates me to go running. Just watch, run a race, and you'll see why.
Creating a soundtrack for my runs also help, especially on days when I am struggling to put one foot in front of the other. My theme song for the Buffalo Half Marathon was Soul Asylum's "Stand Up and Be Strong." For the New York City Marathon, it was The Killers' "All These Things That I've Done." For my early morning runs and for the Chicago Marathon, it was U2's "Where the Streets Have No Name." And for my late night runs, it was Port Royal's "Karola Bloch." But above all that, when I need to know that I have a pulse and that I am still running, I listen to my heartbeat, hear my feet hitting the ground, and mutter "right...left...right" under my breath.
To put myself in the right frame of mind for my larger races, I took to reading. It was Amby Burfoot's "Complete Book of Running" for my first few half marathons. For the New York Marathon, I read Liz Robbin's "A Race Like No Other." When preparing for the Chicago Marathon, I was engrossed in Haruki Murakami's "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running" and Christopher McDougall's "Born to Run." And when all else failed, I googled "quotes about running."
When I am actually running, I have found that visualization helps a great deal. When I first started planning my routes on MapMyRun, I used to mentally play back the route and pretend I had a bird's eye view of my entire route and pretended I could see myself running below. During early spring runs, I listen to the birds chirping on the wires and trees above me, watch the rabbits run across the street, admire the riot of color of blooming flowers and sprouting leaves. This actually is more enjoyable when running day after day, watching how rapidly the scenery changes. During my night runs, I pretend I am floating in the dark abysses of the shadows between the lighted tarmac below the overhanging lamps, the blinking red of my tail light bouncing off the pavement behind me, the white LEDs of my headlamp catching the undulations of the road ahead of me. I smell the freshly cut grass and wondrous scents of the blossoming flowers. It is amazing what your nose and ears can pick up when you cannot see where you are going. On cold days, when the wind is blowing through my hair, biting at my cheeks, I imagine I'm on a warm, sandy white beach, running through the shallows and taking a whiff at the salty breeze. On my long training runs for races, I imagine how I will be on race day, pretending there are people running besides me, cheering fans waving signs on the sides of the roads, and ahead, the "Finish Line" approaching ever so closer.
For shorter runs, I usually think of what challenges I will face that day and how to solve them. For longer runs, when the effect of visualization is wearing thin, I think of my near and dear ones - maybe things they have said to inspire me or just thinking they are besides me talking, no, urging me on. Or I might be thinking of what rewards await me. A bar of chocolate. A cup of 7-11's Slurpee after a particularly long and hot run. Or a bucket of fried chicken. I actually controlled myself for a month for the fried chicken. Needless to say, those 4 pieces fed me several times over - it was soooooo goooood!
When my run is done, I take my pulse, stretch, and pat myself on the back for finishing. And then it is off to face whatever challenges that need facing, whatever battles that need fighting. Oh, and place that order for that bucket of fried chicken.
"When you cross that finish line, it will change your life forever"
- Dick Beardsley
