Spare Me

Yesterday, I vindicated myself after Saturday’s aborted 20-miler.  Ignoring fears of overtraining and insufficient recovery time, I decided it was more important to build confidence in order to build mileage.  A and I have a 21-miler on our training schedule in two weekends, and to me it felt crucial to first succeed at 20 before attempting 21.

Since A finished his 20, yesterday’s outing was all by my lonesome.  I’ve never run that far by myself, and I had some trepidation.  But I was also excited to try out a few things I couldn’t otherwise do running with a partner, like change the course on a whim, listen to music, or follow my progress on the running watch.  A wore our watch in long runs past, and if I we didn’t stay together, I wouldn’t know what pace I ended up running or the mileage I did if I veered off course.

I planned a route that consisted of two 6-mile loops followed by two 4-mile loops, with pit stops at my car in between.  I was dismayed to find that my feet started to hurt really early on.  It felt like there was nothing separating my feet from the cement but a thin sheet of cardboard.  I was slapping the ground so hard I might as well have been barefoot.  I sought out patches of dirt for a softer impact, even if for just a few steps.  That’s when I decided it was time to break out the new pair of shoes I had in my car.

Many months ago, I had a stroke of genius.  Because A opted to go with a more minimal shoe that had a lifespan of about 300 miles, I suggested he buy two pairs so that he’d have a relatively fresh pair for the marathon.  Likewise, the shoe that I wear was being phased out for a newer version, so I too decided to buy another identical pair of my current style while I had a chance.  Thus both of us had auxiliary pairs of our running shoes in the closet, waiting at the ready.

After a run a few weeks ago that left him with sore knees, A decided it was time to pull his spare out of reserve.  His next run was great, proof that he was right to retire the old pair.  One would think that I would take a cue from his example and realize my problem on previous long runs was that I too needed new shoes.  And if that wasn’t enough, the fact that my feet were sore and felt unshielded from the concrete should have been another clue.  Even though it was my brilliant idea to buy extra pairs in the first place, my genius was limited by the fact that I’m a cheapskate and wanted to keep my new pair new for as long as possible.

Returning to the car after my first loop, I promptly switched to the new pair.  It was a revelation.  I felt like a stubborn idiot having waited so long to make a switch.  I wonder how much I suffered needlessly on previous runs for lack of sufficient cushioning.  I am convinced that it was my over-worn shoes that felled my last attempt at 20.

Feeling renewed, I altered the course a little and did 8 miles before returning to my car.  That left only 6 miles, which I did with the aid of my iPod.  The music helped drown out the negative thoughts that pervaded the final miles of my previous long runs.  I felt like I was finally developing a race strategy that could work for me.

My last 6 miles were significantly slower than the first 14, and the even those weren’t fast enough to keep pace with A till the half, but I still felt good about what I accomplished.  The whole run was at a pace fast enough to make my goal (if you don’t count the pit stops).  I’m still anxious that I won’t get there come race time, but I am encouraged that at least I feel ready to face the 21-miler that’s coming up next.