Overthinking the Marathon

Overthinking

the

Marathon

by

Ray Charbonneau

© 2012 by Ray Charbonneau

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Edited by Vanessa Rodriguez

Book Design: Y42K Book Publishing Services/y42k.com

Second Smashwords edition

ISBN: 9781301691944

More info: http://www.y42k.com

Also by Ray Charbonneau:

Chasing the Runner's High

R is for Running

Edited by Ray Charbonneau:

The 27th Mile

Dedication

To Ruth, who said she would never run a single marathon, and who just finished her third. You make everything possible.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Today is a Nice Day for a Run

I Was Lost, But Now I'm Found

June

July

August

September

October

November

About the Author

Today is a Nice Day for a Run

I'm not the first person to say, Writing a book is like running a marathon. A quick Google search for the phrase returned over 42 million hits. But the cliché is literally true in this case. This book is exactly like running a marathon, specifically the Cape Cod Marathon.

Isak Dinesen once wrote, The cure for everything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea.[1] The Cape Cod Marathon has an ample supply of all three.

Actually, that's not the original quote, though the Internet seems to think it is. The Internet is both the most efficient way of copying information that man has ever known, and a giant game of Telephone that corrupts everything it touches. Since this book is based on seventeen weeks of blog posts leading up to the marathon, it seems appropriate to use the Internet's version. The original version reads:

Do you know a cure for me?

Why yes, he said, I know a cure for everything. Salt water.

Salt water? I asked him.

Yes, he said, in one way or the other. Sweat, or tears, or the salt sea.

Also, the author's real name is Karen Blixen. Dinesen is a pen name. Blixen is probably best known for writing Out of Africa, which was turned into a movie that won the Oscar for Best Picture in 1985.

But I digress (you better get used to that).

This isn't the story of some speedy champion runner. This isn't the story of someone beating the odds to overcome disease, handicaps, or fate to complete a once-in-a-lifetime goal. This isn't the story of someone attempting a relatively unique feat, like a cross-country run or 52 marathons in 52 weeks. And it's most definitely not a 17-week couch-to-marathon training plan.

This is just a story of some older guy (me), trying to run one more marathon as fast as he can. Hopefully that's enough. I guarantee this book will be more relevant to most of you than the training plan for some Olympic runner. And if you’re starting to get a little old, or you’ve always been someone whose reach has always slightly exceeded your grasp, I expect you’ll feel right at home.

What follows is an intimate, day-by-day account of what it takes—physically, mentally, and emotionally—to train for a marathon. I provide practical insights into my daily regimen, but this is not the One True Marathon Training Guide (there's no such thing). I've spent twenty years trying to run the Perfect Marathon and I haven't figured out how yet. There's always more to learn, and that's what keeps it interesting.

Cape Cod has been the USATF-NE marathon championship race in 22 of the last 26 years and it regularly appears on lists of the most scenic marathons in the country. It's got something for everyone, both competitive runners and marathon tourists. I'm hoping this book has something for everyone, too. Let's get started and find out.

[1] from The Deluge at Norderney, found in Seven Gothic Tales by Isak Dinesen.

I Was Lost, But Now I'm Found

I’m a goal-oriented runner. I always have at least one goal that I’m working on, sometimes more. When I don’t have a goal, I feel lost. Sometimes it takes a little fishing around before I come up with a goal that catches my interest.

After I finished the Mount Desert Island Marathon last year, I was trying to figure out what my next goal would be. For years, my goals have revolved around marathons and other long distance races, when I wasn't cutting back to heal from injuries so I could get back to long distance racing. One of the things that I never managed to fit in was the Pub Series, a yearly series of shorter races that New England Runner (NER) magazine sponsors. I’d usually do a couple of the races in the series every year, but I never made a point of earning the coveted jacket the magazine gives to runners who complete every race.

I figured, why not run the Pub Series? For once, I’d train for speed in short races and see how I could do. I might even have a chance to occasionally score some Pub Series points in my age group. I had thought about doing the Pub Series in 2011, but I turned 50 in the middle of the series, which meant that I had to compete as a Master, not a Senior. Racing against the 40-year-old kids would eliminate any chance I’d have of scoring points toward the championship. Not that I had any illusions that my score as a Senior would amount to much. My Somerville Road Runners teammate Robert Cipriano had won the 50+ age group in 2011. He was back for more, along with Paul Hammond, Reno Stirrat, and all the other record-setting Seniors from Whirlaway, and plenty of other fast old men from other clubs.

Given that nothing else was inspiring me to run, I figured I’d give the Pub Series a try. To get the most out of the experience, I probably should have done the series while I was still drinking (it is the Pub Series after all). But at least I’d get to try something different.

It wasn’t a wholehearted choice, but I had enough early enthusiasm for the idea to carry me through subscribing to NER (a requirement) and signing up for as many of the races as I could. Not all of them were open for registration yet, but I was able to register for the first three races right away.

Sometimes I jump into an effort, truly believing it’s what I want to do, when really I’m just trying the task on for size to see if it fits. This turned out to be one of those times.

Then my wife, Ruth, decided that she wanted to run the Cape Cod Marathon this year. Once the topic came up, I realized that my heart was still with the long races. I didn’t really care that much about the Pub Series. If I was going to train seriously, I was much more interested in training to see how fast I could run a marathon, not a series of shorter events. I just needed Ruth’s choice to nudge me back on the right track. Or road, as the case may be.

June

The Road to Cape Cod

Wednesday, June 27th

If all goes well, on October 28th (a little more than 17 weeks from now), Ruth and I will be running the Cape Cod Marathon. It’ll be Ruth’s third marathon and my twentieth. It’ll also be ten years since the last time I ran Cape Cod, when I set my marathon PR of 3:13:28.

I just turned 51, and I’m struggling with all the baggage that comes with aging. I have to work harder to run at a particular pace, and some paces just aren’t possible any more. An extra muffin or three matters more than it used to. It gets harder to avoid injuries and keep going. And no matter how much effort I put in, the results just aren’t what they used to be. It’s a common story.

But I’m stubborn, and ready to adjust. I will try some new things and see how much I’ve got left. Let the timing chips fall where they may.

In the following pages I’ll be reporting my progress, along with my thoughts on marathons, training, and those random topics that crop up in all our heads during the course of yet another run.

This is as good a place as any to take stock and let you know where I’m at right now, before I start training for Cape Cod.

There are four things I look at to make an honest assessment of my current level of fitness. That’s something I need to do before setting my goals for Cape Cod and building a training plan. Those four things are:

How much I’m running

What sort of runs I’m doing

How fast I am running

How healthy I am

For those of you who don’t know me, hello! I’ve been running road races for more than 20 years, and I’ve completed more than 200 races of all distances, including 19 marathons and a number of ultramarathons.[2] I’m 51 years old (saying that still sounds weird to me), 5’8" (in thick-soled shoes) and a little over 150 pounds. I think I'm pretty lean, even with the muffins. Still, I'll try to get a little leaner before Cape Cod.

I’m currently self-employed as a writer, computer support guy, and house-husband. None of those of pay very well (except for house-husband – thanks Ruth!), but I have a flexible schedule which usually allows me to get my running in.

I’ve been averaging about 35 miles per week so far this year. That’s more than what I usually average over the year. I’m not really running more mileage each week, but I haven’t had to take any injury breaks, so the average is higher. I’ve also started to add in some biking for additional bulk miles, but I’ve only been doing that for a few weeks.

Thirty-five miles per week isn’t much, but it’s just as much, if not more, than I did while training for ultras. Of course, back then some weeks would total up to 60 or 70 miles, but that was mostly because of an extra-long training run or a race. The average was about the same. The few times I’ve tried to drive the average up any higher, I’ve gotten hurt.

Most of my miles are at a comfortable pace, which is 9 minutes per mile, more or less. I’ve run 18 or more miles ten different times since January, including one complete trip along the Boston Marathon course and one 30-mile run.

I haven’t been doing any speedwork except for races and the odd slightly faster trip around the 4-mile course at Casey’s on Thursday. I suspect avoiding speedwork has more than a little to do with my luck in avoiding major injuries. That’s not to say that nothing hurts. I’ve got plenty of aches and pains, but if I stopped running just because something hurt, I’d never run.

I haven’t been resting much. A day or two after a long run or a race, but that’s all. I haven’t had a real rest week with low mileage and no races since February.

What with age, the lack of speedwork, and the lack of rest, my race results have been a little disappointing. It’s getting tough to run under a 7-minute pace for any distance. I’ve run three 5Ks, and my times have all been over 21 minutes, and I was over 35 minutes at the Doyle’s 5-Miler. My time at the Herring Run 5K was actually over 22, though I was still tired after running the Boston course less than a week earlier. I did manage a 6:15 mile (GPS timed) at the 26×1 Relay last weekend, but I wasn’t exactly pleased by that either.

So that’s where I am. I could drop in at a marathon at any time (in fact, I’m doing the Bear Brook Trail Marathon in three weeks), but I probably wouldn’t be able to run a fast marathon, whatever fast might mean for me. Not today, anyhow. Let’s see if I can change that before October.

Stick around. . . . With any luck, we might all have some fun.

(Today: 12 mile bike; 151.5# [3])

[2] That’s the short description. For the longer version, see my book, Chasing the Runner’s High.

[3] At the end of each day's report, you'll find a note summarizing the day's training, along with my weight for that day. The daily summaries in the ebook editions of Overthinking the Marathon will also have links to data captured by my Garmin GPS/HRM during that day's training.

Roadblock!

Thursday, June 28th

This week is a rest week, so I was only planning to run 4 miles today. Ruth and I planned to head over to Casey’s Pub for the Somerville Road Runners' (SRR, our running club) weekly Thursday night 4 mile run.

Every Thursday night, SRR puts on a free 4-mile race through Somerville. We’ve been doing it every Thursday without fail through rain, snow, holidays, and fire (yes, fire) since 1995. Khoury’s, a dive bar in East Somerville, hosted the run at first. After the city finally closed Khoury’s, we moved down the street to Casey’s Pub, a relatively upscale establishment (Khoury’s set a very low bar).

The old course that started at Khoury’s was 4.13 miles long and crossed the busy, multi-lane McGrath Highway twice. The current course is slightly shorter and starts and finishes on the other side of the highway. We meet at Casey’s and walk across the highway to the start at the base of Winter Hill. That makes it safer for everyone, but I miss the days when the race started and finished at the door to the bar, especially in the winter.

The run actually started a few months before the club was formed. I wasn’t there for the first run, but I was there the night when a bunch of us created SRR over post-run beers at Khoury’s.

Even before the Thursday night run started, there was a real race held on the same route, with entry fees, numbers, traffic control, prizes, and a post-race party (of course). The first Summer Steamer (in 1992) was my very first road race. The 20th edition of the Steamer, in 2011, was my first race after I turned 50. The 2011 race was also the last Summer Steamer, which is the sort of thing that makes a runner feel old.

I often run the 4 miles from home to Casey’s to get in a few extra miles before the race. Sometimes I run back afterward, but usually I stick around, hang out in the bar with my friends, and eat free pizza. At Khoury’s, I often (too often) closed the bar after a run, but these days Ruth and I are usually ready to leave while the others are still on their first pitcher.

Casey’s is a good place for a training run. Enough people show up so no matter what pace I choose to run, there’s always someone I can run with. The course starts with the half-mile climb up Winter Hill, and is challenging enough the rest of the way to make for a good workout before it flattens out for a fast finish.

Since the course goes through urban Somerville, I never know when I’ll have to stop for a traffic light or to dodge some idiot in a car. That uncertainty keeps me from taking my time too seriously. That, and the fact that I’ve run the Thursday night course hundreds of times.

Tonight, Ruth had to work late so I got in the car to go to Casey's by myself. Halfway there, police barriers blocking the road reminded me that it was the night of Somerville’s July 4th celebration. They always hold the event on the Thursday before the 4th, even when it’s almost a week ahead of time.

Traffic the rest of the way was going to be a hassle, and on this night we run a short course to avoid the area blocked off for the celebration. If I had remembered, I never would have started the trip.

If you ever get the impression from my posts that I have my act together, keep in mind that I track all the details I do because if I don’t, I'll forget things.

I bailed out, turned around, and went back home to run instead. When I got home, I went out and ran the 4-mile Paths Loop. The route circles East Arlington, and 3/4 of it is on bike paths. It’s a flat, lazy 4 miles, and it’s nice to be able to run off-road through the busy suburb that we live in. There’s plenty of greenery, which is especially pretty on a nice summer evening.

(3.95 mi. run (35:08); strength training; 149.5#)

Loose Ends

Friday, June 29th

Today is an off day. I usually do some strength training on my off days, but I got that in yesterday morning. I’ve already cleaned the house and done the laundry. Maybe I’ll sneak in a paddle in my kayak?

(150#)

A Turn in the Road?

Saturday, June 30th

Today’s plan called for a 13-mile run with some SRR friends, starting from Herbert Lin’s house in Chelmsford at 9 a.m. Our alarm went off at 5:30 because Ruth and her crew wanted to run farther. They were going to head up early and get in some extra miles by starting at 8 a.m.

The temperature was supposed to get into the 90s with a bright sun. Since I was already up, I was sorely tempted to get my run in early and blow off the group run. But I hadn’t run with the group lately and it was only 13 miles. Besides, Herbert has a pool and there’s always plenty of good food after a run at Herbert’s house.

The course went out and back on the Bruce Freeman Rail Trail, which thankfully was well-shaded for the most part. My group met up with Ruth’s group as we were turning back at the far end of the path. Sara Radkiewicz and I pulled ahead of the rest of the pack on the return trip, and then along about mile 10, I dropped in a couple miles at a marathon pace-ish effort. They were slower than I would have liked. Sure, it was hot, but running on a shady rail trail with a slight downhill grade should have made up for that. Still, it felt nice to pick it up a little at the end of the run.

When I got back to Herbert’s, the pool and the food were as welcoming as expected. I was surprised to see some of the people from Gil’s Athletic Club (GAC) there. I ran with GAC when I was running ultras regularly, so soon we were all sitting in the pool, telling tall tales about running up and down tall mountains. This got me all excited about ultramarathoning again, which is sort of a pain, since I’d just talked myself into postponing any ultra attempts in order to make a try at Cape Cod.

If I’m honest with myself, what I REALLY want to do is pick up ultrarunning where I left off, and maybe someday make another try at finishing a 100-mile race in under 24 hours to finally earn that elusive belt buckle. My SRR friends Shaun Miller and Adena Shutzberg are both busily training for the Vermont 100 next year. Another guy I know, Brian Talon, just buckled at Western States in his first attempt at a 100. I’m happy for them, but they do make it harder for me to resist the pull of longer races. The practical me knows my nagging injuries would make success at a 100 mile attempt unlikely, but that doesn’t quiet the little voice that keeps telling me I’ll never know unless I try. And if I don’t try, I’m just a quitter. I can be hard on myself.

Maybe seeing the folks from GAC is an omen of some kind? Maybe my practical side will win out after all? Who knows? One of the GAC guys, Martin Sullivan, is the co-race director for the Stone Cat 50 in November. Registration for the Stone Cat is full, but people always drop out, so I gave Marty my email address, and we’ll get in touch this fall. If there’s space, and I’m still feeling the call, who knows what will happen? The one thing I do