From the Boston Marathon: What a Way to Train

The last 6 miles were pure torture, from the top of Heartbreak Hill down to Beacon street then on to the finish at the public library on Boylston. But, I did it, and the 109th running of the Boston Marathon was nothing short of an extraordinary experience. To prove it, I brought my camera along. Check out my photo tour of this year’s race to get a glimpse of what makes the Boston Marathon so special: take the tour.

Andromeda Train

I am tired. And it’s not from my recent string of late night training sessions--well, at least not completely. The Andromeda Strain visited our house a month ago and has yet to leave. First, the boys were sick. Nothing serious, just a draining, long term fever with the always enjoyable GI eructations. Then my wife and I got it. Then, after a false plateau of good health, it cycled through the whole family again. Fun, fun, fun.

After many relatively sleepless nights and arduous days of nursing ill progeny (my poor wife usually has to fend for herself), it’s quite hard to even think about getting in a single workout, let alone the doubles often needed for triathlon training. Any other time, I’d have taken some days off while awaiting the scourge to leave our home, but with an Ironman looming, I didn’t.

I probably should have. It would have been the prudent thing to do. But, being lazy by nature and always looking for reasons to slack off, I often feel I have to lash myself to the mast of productivity and workout sick, and tired, and oftentimes just plain sleepy.

And while this is not always wise, it does fit into my new training philosophy--a veritable sea change in how I view my workouts. Before I began training for my upcoming Ironman, I was always yearning for a kind of ease in my runs and rides. Not “easy” mind you, but ease, where things felt right and good and dialed in, even when I was going hard. I would be put off by those inevitable times when I felt crummy or lethargic.

Now, with an Ironman in my future, where a marathon run follows a long swim and near-epic ride, I’m trying to embrace those bad times in my workouts because no matter how bad I’m feeling, I suspect it’s likely to be worse at some point during my race. Rather than worry about why I’m feeling horrible on that long run, I now try to own that feeling in a way--internalizing it so I know how to work around it, or through it, the next time it comes up.

In many ways, it’s a healthier approach to training, even when I’m working out sick. (How’s that for twisted logic?). Now, if I can just apply this new paradigm to other aspects of my life, I’m sure my wife and two sons would be ecstatic. It’ll probably take more effort than the Ironman, but I’m working on it.

From the Pool: If Can't Be Fast, I'll Just Be

I’ve become quite philosophical of late about my swimming. I now accept that I am slow. There’s really no other way to see it. But, as painfully clear as that fact may have been to my poolmates, it took me a number of months and a slog through the 5 stages of grief for me to come to grips with it.

The process went something like this: Denial “I can’t really be that slow. I must be sick;” Anger “Look at those yahoos in the next lane showing off with their flip turns and fast arm turnover;” Bargaining “Maybe if I learned to do flip turns I’d be fast, too;” Depression “Where’s that duathlon schedule?” Acceptance “Hey, slow worked for the tortoise.”

Slow as I may be, I am showing some progress--largely due to regular trips to the pool but also to the Total Immersion program, which has really helped my technique.

There are times when I still feel like a crab in the water, but with Total Immersion I’ve become more streamlined and relaxed, even if I don’t achieve it every, or even most, laps. The constant goal of improving technique not only helps pass the time lap after lap but it also adds a bit of a Zen quality to swim training. You swim in the moment, mindfully focusing on various minute aspects of your stroke. And this has actually transferred to other aspects of my training and life.

We live in a world of distractions, and as much as I love that (truly), there’s a time to turn inward and live fully in the moment--whether it’s editing a document, riding up a six percent grade, or washing the dishes. Greater efficiency is a by product of this, but the real payoff of these mindful moments is that they help center us, put us back in touch with our true capabilities, and set the stage for growth. Of course, meditating with the Dalai Lama may be more centering than swimming, editing, or washing dishes, but you have to take what you can get.

Hits from the Long Run

There are always a few surprise standouts from the MP3 player on my long runs. On yesterday’s 20-miler, it was a hirsute Welshman (Tom Jones) and six prog rockers from the heartland (Kansas).

Ruffled open-collared shirts aside, don’t be too quick to discount Tom Jones. He’s got pipes and enough artistic integrity to work with producers like Trevor Horn. Give a listen, you may be surprised. As for Kansas, it’s always great to hear the musicality on a classic hit like “Carry On.”

Tom Jones; from “The Lead and How to Swing It” (1994)
If I Only Knew
Situation (cover)
Kansas; from "Leftoverture" (1976)
Carry on Wayward Son