There is a system to training for a marathon, or really any long distance race. I don't have a firm grasp on the system, but from what I've gathered so far, it consists of mixing up shorter runs where you work on speed with long slow runs where you work on distance, stamina, and getting used to being on your feet for extended periods of time. The short days have fancy names like tempo runs or strides. The long run day is known as LSD, or long, slow, day.
My training partner and friend, Sam, and I started out with running 4 days a week. After a month of that, and dealing with shin splints for me and knee pain for her, we dropped down to running 3 days a week. The Big Sur (for Sam) and the OC (for me) marathons will be our first, and we're just focused on staying healthy and getting to the starting line.
Last week, for our LSD, we ran 19 miles. It took us 4 hours. That's a long time on our feet and a lot of pounding on our body. I'm still recovering. It's also a lot of time to spend with one another. And I noticed that we have a pattern when it comes to LSDs. On our "shorter" run days (runs anywhere from 6-10 miles), we talk pretty much the whole time. We catch up on our lives, and talk about school and politics and the news, and she tells me stories about her 10 month old daughter. But on long run days, there comes a point when we can no longer muster up the energy to talk. The last few miles are run in a comfortable silence.
Surprisingly, I did not dread the 19 mile run the way I dreaded the 16 mile run. The first half was fairly easy, and we marveled at how running this distance would have been unimaginable when we first began running together. We talked about how our perspective on distance running has shifted. Now a 3 or 4 mile run is short, and a 7 or 8 mile run is easy. Even a half marathon, or 13.1 miles, a distance that I ran for the first time only a couple short months ago is manageable. When we reached the 13 mile point in our 19 mile run, we commented on how we still felt good at this distance and how this was in contrast to how we felt when we tackled the half at the beginning of January. After 14 miles, things got a bit challenging. We weren't talking as much, and my feet were hurting. After 16 miles, I was really surprised at how good I still felt, but after 17 miles, I was getting tired and couldn't wait to finish.
I don't know what it's like for anyone else, but there comes a point in a run where if I stop, it becomes very difficult to start again. It's counterintuitive, but this is what it's like for me and Sam. This point of no return increases with the distance of our run. When we were doing 7 mile runs, it happened at about the 5th mile, for example. Whenever I tell people about how I ran a half marathon, some asked if I ran the entire distance. And the truth is that I did and I try to explain that once I start running, it's easier to just keep going.
After about 15 miles into our 19 mile run, I was tired, sore, and wanted to stop. But I knew this was the point of no return and that if I paused to walk for even a moment, it would make those last 4 miles much worse. So we carried on, and trotted home. I don't really remember how I felt when we finished, but I do know that I just wanted to sit down and stretch. It felt really, really good.
My training partner and friend, Sam, and I started out with running 4 days a week. After a month of that, and dealing with shin splints for me and knee pain for her, we dropped down to running 3 days a week. The Big Sur (for Sam) and the OC (for me) marathons will be our first, and we're just focused on staying healthy and getting to the starting line.
Last week, for our LSD, we ran 19 miles. It took us 4 hours. That's a long time on our feet and a lot of pounding on our body. I'm still recovering. It's also a lot of time to spend with one another. And I noticed that we have a pattern when it comes to LSDs. On our "shorter" run days (runs anywhere from 6-10 miles), we talk pretty much the whole time. We catch up on our lives, and talk about school and politics and the news, and she tells me stories about her 10 month old daughter. But on long run days, there comes a point when we can no longer muster up the energy to talk. The last few miles are run in a comfortable silence.
Surprisingly, I did not dread the 19 mile run the way I dreaded the 16 mile run. The first half was fairly easy, and we marveled at how running this distance would have been unimaginable when we first began running together. We talked about how our perspective on distance running has shifted. Now a 3 or 4 mile run is short, and a 7 or 8 mile run is easy. Even a half marathon, or 13.1 miles, a distance that I ran for the first time only a couple short months ago is manageable. When we reached the 13 mile point in our 19 mile run, we commented on how we still felt good at this distance and how this was in contrast to how we felt when we tackled the half at the beginning of January. After 14 miles, things got a bit challenging. We weren't talking as much, and my feet were hurting. After 16 miles, I was really surprised at how good I still felt, but after 17 miles, I was getting tired and couldn't wait to finish.
I don't know what it's like for anyone else, but there comes a point in a run where if I stop, it becomes very difficult to start again. It's counterintuitive, but this is what it's like for me and Sam. This point of no return increases with the distance of our run. When we were doing 7 mile runs, it happened at about the 5th mile, for example. Whenever I tell people about how I ran a half marathon, some asked if I ran the entire distance. And the truth is that I did and I try to explain that once I start running, it's easier to just keep going.
After about 15 miles into our 19 mile run, I was tired, sore, and wanted to stop. But I knew this was the point of no return and that if I paused to walk for even a moment, it would make those last 4 miles much worse. So we carried on, and trotted home. I don't really remember how I felt when we finished, but I do know that I just wanted to sit down and stretch. It felt really, really good.
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