When training isn't enough.

Two weeks ago, my marathon training reached the first of, what I consider, two key stages. It was the first 20 mile run, and though double digit runs stopped scaring me a while ago, seeing that first number change from a one to a two still does something to the psyche that's hard to explain.

The week prior I had run 18 great miles in La Crosse, coming in right on pace and feeling pretty good throughout. It had been hot and muggy, already 75 degrees at 6AM with a dew point around 63. I didn't have the right pre-run or in-run nutrition. Yet, the run itself was a major success.

So heading into the next long run, I should have been in a great place to break the 20 mile barrier without much of an issue, or so I would have thought...until it actually came to facing the run. As it turns out, my first 20 mile run lasted just 9 miles. I woke up to rain, so postponed the run a few hours until the skies cleared. I waited too long and the temperature climbed in the uncomfortable range. I'd eaten the wrong food the night before, and it sat heavy in my stomach for the first 5 miles. I couldn't find a rhythm; I couldn't settle into my pace; I was sick to my stomach at mile 7 and was walking by mile 8. Dejected, I went home, showered and iced, and pondered what had gone wrong?

I recently came across a quote about marathon running that said, "You have to forget your last marathon before you try another. Your mind can't know what's coming." In considering how many things went wrong two weeks ago, I can't help but agree that physical training alone is not enough. There was no reason that my body, which had suffered yet survived 18 miles just seven days earlier, couldn't have slogged through another 18 miles. My training hadn't slipped; I hadn't lost fitness. I was physically r sound to complete the training run I was supposed to complete.

Mentally however, something was off (and here those who know me well, or think that running a marathon sounds like crazy talk anyway, are nodding their heads profusely). To tackle such a run is to knowingly subject yourself to exhaustion, and pain, and a long period of time with your own thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts provide the greatest pep talks in the world, and other times, and other times they question your motives, and your sanity, and you will to continue.

The "wall" that's talked about in a marathon, is not a physical barrier...it's mental. The moment you hit the wall your body aches, your legs are jello, the idea of taking another step is as agonizing as the step itself. At the same time, I found that by the time I reached my "wall" my body had also gone into a kind of running autopilot mode in which shuffling along to the next step it was actually easier than slowing down to a complete walk. The "wall" is the moment in which you much convince yourself to continue mentally. It's agreeing to put up with another mile of pain and like it. It's about choosing to suffer in the name of finishing, and it's about trusting your training. Running a marathon is physically demanding, but more challenging then that is deciding to start training, keep running, and no quit when all reason and common sense says to throw in the towel.

Two weeks ago, I did not do that well, and in the six days leading up to my next 20 mile attempt, I treated my training as mental exercise as much as physical exercise. I took off my watch and focused on the quality and "feel" of the run instead of the split times. I adjusted my pace when I felt I could run faster, not when the clock told me I was failing to keep up. I logged four runs I felt good about before trying to take on 20 miles again, four runs that were stress free and comfortable and reminded the voices in my head how it felt not to panic the moment my muscles strained, or my heart rate increased, or my breathing quickened.

Yesterday, I retried the 20 mile mark, and had a much more successful outing. I changed my route from the weekend prior. Ran the same continuous 2 mile loop for 6 miles while I settled into a pace and rhythm, then reset my watch to ignore the amount of time it took to get settled in, and ran the last 14 miles in the comfortable confidence of someone locked in on their training. There was no panic. There was no doubt. And though there was pain and struggle, the voices in my head offered only reassuring bits of encouragement.

There's only so much one can do for the mental side of the race. Running coaches and psychologists might suggest visualizations, positive mental imaging, repetition of a mantra, meditation, etc. Regardless of the methodology, there can be little doubt that it's as important of a factor to address as the physical run itself. Running the race...crossing the finish...your legs will get you there. Talking yourself into showing up at the start line...that's all in your head.

Happy Trails,