Not An Easy Thing
I had originally planned on training for Boston this year, but stress fracture worries kept my mileage low for the last couple months of last year and I decided that I didn't really have enough time to train for the thing properly. So it wasn't without a little wistful longing that I followed the runners yesterday as they headed towards Beantown under nearly ideal conditions.
Marathoning is a funny sport in that the actual task has been placed on such an elevated pedestal of difficulty, yet look at the range of the population who has been able to accomplish the goal. Nearly every size, shape, age, make and model of human that you can think of has managed to drag, roll, limp or sprint his or her way across the mystical finish line.
This simple diversity cannot help but inspire debate and value judgments about the various athletes who call themselves marathoners...and whether or not someone is in fact an "athlete" just by virtue of having completed a marathon. It seems to be a real stretch to conclude that we're even all participating in the same sport! The training is different, the appropriate race day clothing is different, the way we eat and drink to prepare for it is different, the muscles and physiology involved is different, the pain of the endeavor is not the same and we do not all have similar periods of recovery. I look at Paula and Deena and the crowds of fast Russians and Africans and I have a difficult time putting myself in any sort of category that includes them. Then again, I guess that's why the word "elite" exists...they are and we're not!
Yet we are still able to gather here in this virtual space and share training tips and motivation and advice and encouragement. I want to break three hours, she wants to break five and him over there, he's hoping to break 2:22 and qualify for the trials, but he just gave me a great link to buy discounted Powerbars and CoolMax running shirts. I buy into Lydiard and think that the enlightened path to speed comes through years of slow, persistent mileage and they just swear by the 3-days-a-week running plan as long as you also bike and swim. I might think it's bullshit, but if it works for them, who am I to say it's bad?
We are a community of contrasts and not all of our sub-sets are ever going to get along perfectly. Yeah, it pisses me off when someone runs a half and calls it a marathon, but does it really hurt me? What do I care if someone wants to take walk breaks every two miles of a marathon, if they're starting the race five hundred yards behind me anyway? Why am I on such a rampage here?
That was weird. I'm not sure what set me off there. Maybe it's the new allergy medicine I'm on.
Anyway, what I started off meaning to write about was how it felt to follow along with my teammates' progress in Boston yesterday. Two of them in particular really stirred up some of the emotions and anxieties that I feel for this hobby of mine. The first guy from our team has been training really hard for this race. He ran a 2:28 a few years ago at his debut marathon when he was still in college, but hadn't been as committed to his training after he graduated. Last time I saw him he was alarmingly thin, but I guess he'd just made the running back into a priority, so it was gratifying to see him break his PR by a minute yesterday and finish 31st. Though, knowing how hard he trained this time, it also makes you think...all that work for one minute? I think the men's trials qualifying time is 2:22, so what does he have to do if he wants that to be a goal? People who run that fast are like strange alien creatures to me. Like I said, it's not the same sport.
The other runner from my team that I really focused on was a woman my age who just started running with us again after training on her own for a while. She swept on to the scene in a dramatic fashion, regularly finishing second or third for us and effectively shoving me out of the bottom of our short list of scorers. It's good for the team and it's motivating for me, but it did make me really curious about what she was doing training-wise. Rumor had it that she only ran three times a week, which is a little hard to stomach when you're bleary-eyed and ragged just from trying to build a base. So whether this 3x/week thing is true or not, she did run a 3:04 in New York last year and her speed and mental intensity in shorter races made me pretty certain she was going to break three yesterday in Boston.
And I wanted her to. I've thought about this. I am definitely inspired and motivated by the success of others and I genuinely like her, so I was excited to check in on her via computer yesterday to see it happen. She started off sensibly and was on pace for a 2:58 at the 10K mark, but then she hit the half just barely under 1:30. I had a bad feeling about that, knowing that she still had a lot of hills to push through, but what surprised me and disturbed me a little was the slight sense of relief I felt. Am I so petty that I don't want anyone else to find fulfillment in this sport while I'm still struggling? Was this just jealousy and if so, why? It's not like someone elses failure helps me to run faster?
As her projected finish time continued to slip the feeling went away and I found myself trying to send her mental messages to stay tough and hang on to the pace and she did still finish well under 3:10. (Which being the men's qualifying time, I think has particular significance for a woman to do.)
I'm still mulling over why I felt such a pang at watching someone else attempt what it is that I want to do, but on one level it does make me feel very positive about my abilities in this sport. What I do is not an easy thing. I take it for granted a little bit because I've been doing it for so long, but it is a valuable thing, the ability to keep going when your body is spent. I have a deep recognition of my own toughness that most people are never forced to discover. I've experienced my own ability to confront pain and fatigue and even despair and I know that I don't capitulate easily under duress.
Fact is, the marathon is very different race than the others where I usually compete. It was pointed out to me yesterday that, in terms of distance, there is a bigger difference between the half and the marathon than there is between the half and a hundred meter dash. A lot of people who can crush me at the shorter distances are closer to being my equals in the marathon. It was not satisfaction that I felt as I watched my teammate's sub-three slip out of reach, but something more like pride. I witnessed again how unmerciful this distance can be and I was proud of my ability and courage to confront it again and again.