Choosing and Evaluating a Goal

First, I should say that from the outset I knew trying to qualify for Boston is a "reach" goal. I've run 5+ marathon distance runs since 2008, but only 2 were races that I prepared for seriously and actually raced, and the fastest was 3:35 (my 1st). How did I think that I could drop 30mins of my PR? First, I know it will be easier mentally this time. The distance and suffering won't be a problem given I've "been there, done that." Second, I ran all of those on low mileage - max 4days/wk, 40miles/wk. I've already gone over 40mi in week two of this cycle, which leads me to my third point. I'm more dedicated, that is, more willing and more able to put in the work for this serious goal. Finally, I think 30mins is reasonable because: (1) DC is pretty flat, while the Flying Monkey (my first) is incredibly hilly, (2) I'm much more used to running after doing it for 6 years, even if inconsistently. Knowing all that, I thought I could achieve a BQ with hard work!

I've briefly discussed how my training this year looks different from in 2008, because I am trying to run a certain time this year rather than simply finishing. In my case, trying to qualify for Boston, that time is already set - 3:05. The more challenging part was evaluating if that time is reasonable. My training runs (track workouts, tempo runs, general paces) are all largely defined by my marathon pace, so making sure that I can hit those training targets is essential for preparing me for the marathon race (assuming that race equivalency charts and calculators are reasonably accurate). So how did I evaluate?

Having the qualifying time set, I first wanted to know how well prepared I was for the challenge. To answer that question I looked to equivalency charts and ran a time trial. While equivalency is more accurate for closer distances (e.g. predicting a 10k based on a 5k or marathon from half), I chose to do a 2mile TT. We have an accurate 2mi course, and I felt comfortable going hard at that distance rather than a more substantial one with more endurance prerequisite. After all, I expect to slowly build endurance over the next few months but don't expect to gain a ton of speed after the initial track work weeks. With that logic, I reasoned that the 2mi course could simply tell me whether I was fast enough right now to have a chance (i.e. do I have the potential). Fortunately, I hit the 2mi time (equivalent to a 3:05 marathon) to the second! That provided the confidence I needed going into marathon training.

I've now done 2 track workouts of the Hansons plan, and I've hit all the time marks spot on. In fact, I'm not feeling particularly tired even. Today I ran a 5mi race (never raced that distance). Wanting to treat it as another benchmark, I consulted the equivalency chart (again for a 3:05 marathon). In the end, I was able to run under the equivalent time. I consider those good signs that I've chosen a reasonable time and may even be able to surpass my BQ time if all things fall into place right. At the very least, I might have some cushion if things don't go well.

Choosing a Training Plan

I ran my first marathon in 2008. I wasn't a runner and had never trained to be a competitive runner. Rather, I grew up playing traditional sports - football, baseball, basketball, and sprinted in track. Two years before, though, I had taken up cycling. Though never very dedicated, I was used to going out for 2-3hr, 40-50mi bike rides. That's all to say that when I decided to train for that first race, I needed to get used to running! I chose a beginner Hal Higdon plan that would prepare me for the distance and completion but did not focus much on speed. I took 30 wks to build from zero running to less than 40mi/wk. It worked, I ran well, and didn't get injured.

The Foundation
Jeff, a dedicated runner, who I learned a lot from in my first few months of training, describes the difficulty of marathon training very clearly on his own running blog:

The true difficulty of marathon training is that it is almost impossible to be prepared for both distance and pace. The length of the race becomes a challenge in itself, which multiplies the problem of training. Not only do you have to get yourself fit enough to run a certain pace a certain distance, you need to also be strong enough to simply tolerate the distance.

 As I prepared for trying to qualify for Boston, I very much considered how to balance getting the necessary distance while also getting a lot faster. I began my research with the father of distance running training, Arthur Lydiard. Wildly successful in training strong athletes from the track to the marathon, Lydiard had a regimented training plan built on a foundation of high mileage. All of his athletes would put in 100+mi weeks for weeks on end to build a base, even if they were competing in 5k or 10k races. They would then transition to a strength building phase using hill work and finish with speed and "finishing".

Lydiard's strategy makes logical and physiological sense to me. Coming from a climbing training background, I know that endurance (aerobic) takes awhile to gain but sticks around, while speed and power (anaerobic) can be gained and lost rather quickly. I knew I needed to run higher volume, but realized I was never going to be able to put up the big numbers to fit the bill, so I started looking for an alternative. Knowing training plans usually take 16-18weeks, I went ahead and started building my base up, building consistency to about 25mi/wk (5-6d/wk), as good training seems to be mostly about habit.

Factors in Choosing
In searching I came across a lot of options - Higdon, McMillan, Pfitzinger, Daniels, Lydiard, Hanson, and more. Though they're all a little different, there are some common threads. Here's a decent overview.

• Weekly Volume: I knew I was not going to put up 100mi weeks, but I was convinced that I needed to at least get past my previous max of 40mi/wk. This ruled out plans on both ends of the spectrum.
• Days per week: Based on Lydiard's philosophy, I chose to go with a plan that spread weekly mileage out through the week, so as not to overload any one run, and to build consistency. Movement is an important part of recovery (it pumps waste out of muscles using the lymphatic system). Plus, I knew I needed to get used to being tired to persevere through the race.
• Speed Work: The first marathon I ran to complete. This marathon I am "racing". I ran my first marathon at about 8:15 pace. To BQ, I need to run 7:00 pace. Yeah...I needed to get way faster. I didn't know if I could do it, especially considering I haven't run consistently since 2011 (my last marathon), but I knew speed work would be part of it.
• Structure: It's great to have flexibility and personalization, and I research something until I have a good understanding, but I'm no expert. Why experiment with my own made up plan or an open-ended plan if I can trust a "proven" plan written by an expert. I decided given the high stakes, I would go with a highly specific plan to decreases the variables.

Ultimately, I chose the Hanson's Marathon Method. Why? Mostly for their focus on speed and marathon pacing. I've run 5 marathons or ultras at this point, so I don't feel the need for huge long runs of 20+mi. I know the last few miles are hard, and I can deal with it mentally. Therefore, I'm trading long training runs (preparing for distance) for more specific pace training (preparing for speed). Training for that first marathon, I needed to feel what 10, 15, 20miles felt like because I had never run them before. Given my low mileage, those distances required a lot of recovery. With Hanson's I will be running up to 60+mi/wk and spreading it out over 6 days. My legs will be more consistently stressed and tired. What I really need is to know what it feels like to run fast and hard! 

Hanson's on Paper

Because of my research on Lydiard, I was already convinced of the benefits of running consistently and periodization (transitioning from endurance to strength to speed). I knew that I would need to increase the days and the miles per week I was running along with adding hard running into the mix.

Hanson's allows me to do that. It's 6 days/wk, tops out over 60mi/wk, transitions from speed at the beginning (unlike Lydiard) to strength at the end, and provides a very detailed and regimented plan. I recognized most of that from internet research and gained a better understanding by reading the book. It all made sense, and I was convinced that (1) they knew what they were doing in designing the plan, and (2) it was appropriate for me and my goals.

Their explanations make sense. Why only 16miles for a long run? Because super-long long runs put too much stress and focus on that day and generally sacrifice other days to do so. The Hansons Plan focuses more on cumulative fatigue and getting used to running tired. They say the plan trains you for the last 16mi of the race rather than the first 16mi. Why speed first rather than last? If you've trained for months at 10:00/mi, adding some 800s during the last few weeks is not going to take you to running 8:00/mi. However, training for a faster speed initially and then extending the distance you can run that speed over months should allow you to get faster. Lydiard used speed to refine and sharpen his athletes that were already fast. I need to get fast, so Hanson's flipping of the periods makes sense. Most of all, I will spend considerable amount of time at marathon pace, getting used to running it, in the midst of a normal training week. By the time the race comes, I hope that pace is well ingrained in my body even when I'm tired.

My Assessment So Far

I'm only in week three of Hanson's plan, but I feel good about it already. Last week put me over 40mi for the week, and I feel great. I nailed my first track workout, and ran through some ugly weather (rain, snow, temps in the teens).

I believe that if I follow the plan, I will get the speed and endurance I need to succeed come March. My only concern is staying healthy. That I've tried to mitigate by slowly building up my mileage over the last few months and through some techniques I've learned from Kelly Starrett, which I'll talk about later.

Seeking the Struggle

A short piece I wrote awhile back:

Climbing days were few and far between. The end of a semester and holiday preparation took far too much time and energy. Plastic was a poor substitute, and even it seemed elusive. For weeks, maybe months, I planned this getaway. The details were still vague. Roughly a week. Somewhere in the southeast. Climb as much as possible. Where would the weather be best? Who would be available? All that really mattered was being outside doing what I loved and missed.

The voice of one crying in the wilderness. The Book of Luke says John “the Baptist” grew strong in spirit and lived in the deserts until his public appearance. That has always intrigued me. What was it about living in the desert, wearing camel hair, and eating wild locusts and honey that prepared John for his role in ushering the Christ of Israel? God used wilderness to prepare others as well. After the exodus from Egypt, He made His people wander 40 years in the wilderness before they were fit for the promise land! I had only a week to spare. What did he have planned for me?

Tennessee Wall is my favorite crag. Perhaps it’s the way the repetitive corners and arêtes allow me to feel hidden away from other climbers and their crag dogs. The features also restrain my ego, which so often manipulates me when surrounded by crowds.

Golden Locks is my ultimate happy place there. Nearly one hundred feet tall with maybe seventy feet of that pure hand crack, it is difficult for me to walk by and not climb such a phenomenal route. The crack is clean and smooth. The jams are perfect slots, requiring minimal twisting or cupping. If I were ever to practice free soloing, which I likely never will, it would be to feel the unencumbered flow that comes from ascending a climb like Golden Locks.

For now, it serves as a confidence booster, as I choose and place just enough pieces between bomber rest jams, swimming upward in smooth movement, smile on my face, using the critical crimp for the single crux lunge to a jug at the top of the crack. That move always reminds me of my own on-sight effort: sweating an ocean, thrutching between moves, carrying way too much gear, and nearly exploding off the crux move before gingerly moving to the chains. The efforts where failure is so near, yet I somehow succeed are the most memorable and satisfying.

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led around by the Spirit in the wilderness. During that mysterious time of preparation in the desert, the devil tempted the God-Man with all the desires of our own hearts, particularly an easy way out. But it wasn’t to be easy for Jesus or for us. Jesus knew what He had to do. He knew it was going to be difficult, even asking the Father to remove the cup if possible. Yet He endured for our sake. God is constantly refining us throughout our lives, and I have to remind myself that there is value in every struggle.

The last climb of the day had to be a good one. This particular climb my partner and I had looked at many times . . . and walked away from just as many. Fortunately, it was his lead, and a moment of decisiveness took us to the base once again. Crack Attack is highly rated in every guidebook, but it’s not a typical, well-known classic. Past the main area and largely hidden above a blocky start, it has an aura of mystery and adventure, and that’s exactly what we found.

Back on the ground, after the most impressive lead I’ve seen from him, my partner didn’t have much to say. What can you say after finishing a challenging, scary lead? A simple exhale is enough. Those moments fall into the “Type 2 Fun” category for me, fun to reflect on later but not very fun in the moment. Donning my headlamp and reluctantly leaving my parka, I prepared for my own adventure. I was glad to finally get on this route.

The opening chunky stuff is followed by a flared offwidth kept mellow enough by a handcrack in the back. Over a bulge, I worked thru delicious, thin fingers on a slab. The crux comes about three-quarters height. In catching a couple lead falls, I had the benefit of seeing my partner work out the beta. Still it wasn’t easy. I pulled a small roof using a hand crack until I could frog squat above the roof. Tenuously stepping right over a void, I toed a small nubbin with the hopes it wouldn’t explode off the wall. The subsequent step thru on slopey gastons and crimps was spicy even on top rope. The hardest part of the climb, though, was finishing the final fifteen-foot wet chimney in the dark. Hanging over the 100ft tall wall, above the trees, above the Tennessee River, fearing an eminent nasty slip out of a stone tube, I was glad my sight was limited to just the bowels of the chimney. Grateful to reach the chains, I took a moment to regain my composure and simply appreciate the opportunity to climb.

At the base, I had just one thing to say: “That was terrifying.” Terrifying but rewarding. Uncomfortable but worthwhile. Is that not life? Hopefully, every moment is not a struggle, but the struggles make us better. I’m grateful for every day the Lord lets me enjoy His creation, and I’m grateful for the refining fire He brings me through, even if it’s an off-width of my own choosing.

I'm back.

It's almost 2015. My last posts came from summer of 2011, over 3 years ago. A lot has happened in that time - more than I can go into, so I'm not going to. Suffice it to say that I've recently decided to start running again. That brings me back to 2008 when all this started - full circle if you will - so here goes again!