Qualified
A road revival leads to conquering a long-standing goal
Throughout the month of December, we’re taking a look back at our year in running from the road to the trail. This week: A return to road running brings me back to the marathon, and a date with destiny.
Like all great ideas, the notion of running a road marathon came about by accident. Seven years after vowing to never, ever, run 26.2 hard miles on asphalt again, I found myself back on the road runner grind. As I wrote back in January:
God help me, I’m becoming a roadrunner again.
It’s not like I wanted this for myself. I was perfectly content to live in a world when I ran alone in the woods for the rest of my days with nary a worry or care. Yet, here I am, logging metronomic splits on a crowded commuter path for mile after endless mile.
Honestly, there’s a lot to be said for incorporating both roads and trails into your routine. When you combine the best qualities of road running with all that trail running has to offer, you might find a richer running experience.
While trail running promises a uniquely immersive experience for the mind, body, and soul, road running offers the most direct path to building fitness. Even better: All those long tempo runs and lactate threshold intervals not only make you faster, they also make you tougher and more resilient.
Road running is truly a mental game. From hammering splits to churning out miles, getting out and doing the same thing, day after day and week after week, requires a certain state of zen that I would describe as becoming profoundly unbothered by everything.
This was my goal: Embrace the challenge of completing a fairly long run without complaining about the wind, the cold, the blinding sun, or the fact that I was literally running back and forth along a highway six times. If I could do all that, then I figured the performance part would take care of itself.
The payoff for all this road running was taking one more swing at running a fast marathon in a time that met the Boston Marathon qualifying standard more than a decade after trying – and failing (twice) – to meet said standard. An ambitious goal, but one I felt I could manage thanks to working with a coach who would help me realize my potential.
Every winter during our offseason, my coach (Avery Collins) emphasizes speed workouts with a mix of long tempos and shorter threshold work. What most people call marathon training, only without the big volume.
And so it is that every winter I begin thinking about running a marathon. As longtime readers know, I swore off road running in general and marathoning in particular following a brutal experience at the Boston Marathon in 2017. Never again!
Howevah … things have changed.
Two things had changed, actually. Thanks to working with Avery, my fitness base had grown exponentially. And two, running ultras toughened me up, mentally. Whereas before I hoped things would go my way on race day, I now realized good fortune is earned through executing a well-designed training plan.
All of that led me to the wonderfully-named Cheap Marathon in Derry, NH. The race offered little in terms of amenities – a finisher’s ribbon and a t-shirt that cost extra accounted for the swag – yet the course presented a perfect layout for snagging an elusive BQ.
On a flat stretch of rail-trail, runners ran out and back and then out and back again, covering the same 6.5 mile course four times. Something about the monotonous simplicity spoke to my ultra running soul.
My ultra training paid off in other ways, like embracing high-carb super fuels and weekly workouts. I roared into March feeling like a lion. Unfortunately, that’s when I slipped on a patch of mud and shattered my elbow less than two weeks before the race.
Life as a middle aged endurance athlete is all about managing bumps and bruises, but with my arm in a makeshift sling, it was time to call in the medical professionals.
After examining my elbow, the doctor kept saying things like, “I’m very concerned.” When I told him I was running a marathon in nine days he arched his eyebrow and shook his head. “I’m very concerned,” he said again.
Then came X-Rays, which hurt like hell when the radiologist placed my elbow on the table. I kept making wounded animal sounds and the tech was trying to be encouraging. “You’re doing great, hon.” unnnnnnnnhhhhhhh
“I guess that means it’s broken,” I said after the agony was finally over.
“It doesn’t mean anything, dear,” she said not all that convincingly.
Fortunately, the orthopedist offered a more optimistic view. In fact, she didn’t see any reason why I couldn’t run a marathon. The only issue was that it was still swollen, tender to the touch, and practically immobile. Good thing you don’t run marathons on your elbows.
Then the Running Gods delivered a late season Nor’easter to the region, delaying the race by two weeks. That extra time allowed me to heal physically. My elbow still wouldn’t be 100 percent, but the pain was certainly more manageable.
The delay also allowed me space to reflect. At the end of the day, marathon training is a bit like a math equation. You either get the numbers right or you don’t. Still, it’s hard to get the numbers to work if your head isn’t in the right place.
Making a commitment to show up every day is at least half the battle, but not nearly all the fight. Your mere physical presence isn’t enough to reach your potential. For that, you need to be mentally engaged as well. When you run with an open mind, you give yourself an opportunity to explore your boundaries and test your limits.
I’d like to think I grew from the marathon experience, and not just because I finally got my BQ. Marathon training taught me that goals are never truly out of reach. It also taught me how to achieve real fitness gains that stand the test of time.
The other thing marathon training taught me was that I love being on dirt, which is where my running journey would take me next. Only this time, I’d be headed back to the ultra world with speed, confidence, and a BQ on my resume.
My main takeaway from this experience is that life doesn’t have to unfold perfectly for it to end well. So many things “went wrong” during the buildup to the race that it became comical. If I may be so bold, I think patience and perspective are the biggest differences between the runner I was in 2014 when I first tried to get a BQ, and the runner I am now. (The extra fitness helps too!)
We love a good learning and thriving moment, even if there are bumps along the way. I'll be out there cheering for you at heartbreak hill come race day. And I'm sure the rest of us will be cheering for you as well, either in person or from afar.