I admit it, I have marathon fear.
Every now and then I have a doubt
I look at the training schedule and think about my last run and its difficulty and there it is, doubt.
I step on the scale or look in the mirror and think “how can portly me run 42.2 and not need to be carried over the finish”
It’s a fear that is both reasonable and unreasonable.
I’ve done 4 half marathons, all close together and have gotten faster and stronger with each one. My recovery has gotten shorter.
But I’ve gotten a wee bit older and a wee bit fatter. My knee is troubling me. I feel guilty when I have to leave Ruby behind.
But it’s that magic distance, 42.2k… The distance that makes headlines when healthy people drop dead on the course.
That magic distance that let’s you say you have done one of the hardest things a person can do.
So fear is normal.
I am a little undertrained for the clinic I’m in, and I don’t know many people in it. I last ran 21.1 in late June, since then I haven’t even done 10.
That makes for more doubts.
Day one was Jan 1 and Tuesdays are all 6k tempos. Due to the holiday we missed the run but I did the resolution run (5k). My running partner and I decided to run it straight rather than 10 and 1’s. It was a bit of an accidental decision, we kept saying “oh let’s walk at 15” “lets walk at midway” but we never did, we jut kept going.
Worked out ok, for my training pace a tempo is 6:45 and our final pace was 6:50. Perfect without even trying.
Since I’m still finishing up the 10k clinic I’m coaching I took my gang out for hills rather than the 10k tempo. I’m a mean coach, it was a hard hill.
Thursday and Sunday I wound up running sweep on my 9k and walking part way with one of the slower clinic people. We joke at the Running Room that our clinics are like the marines, but for middle aged women, no man gets left behind. So ya gotta do what ya gotta
Week two started with a cold night with heavy rain. 6k tempo on a route with a big hill. “What hell is this?” My brain asked as we stepped out into the icy deluge.
“Shut up brain” said my legs as they started off.
“Wtf? Who plots a tempo up this hill?” Asked my brain as we started to climb at the 1.5k mark.
“Shut up brain,” said my legs, “I’ve got work to do”
And it did.
As I crested the hill my brain got onboard and despite the rain we nailed it, average moving pace of 6:45 for 6.3k.
Despite the rain, I was happy when I got back to the car, even though I was drenched and poor Ruby must have been 5lbs heavier with all that water in her coat.
Shut up brain, I don’t have anymore doubts.