Friday:
I dragged the crapradoodle for the 3.4 mile maintenance loop (~36:00) at around 29 degrees. Today, I started to answer some of yesterday's questions, or, at least, I started answering some of the huge sweeping questions of my life, and the answers reminded me that I had asked myself some questions the day before, and . . . you know what, here:
With all of my writing classes, I have a number of suggestions that I give them, regardless of the caliber of writing or the objectives of the class: if I wants to be a better writer, for instance, I have to sit down, everyday, and write; I have to read; I have to learn grammar (despite how much I disliked learning it in sixth grade); and, a lesson that makes them all uncomfortable, I can't lie to myself.
Those same rules apply to running: run (or cross train) every day, unless, of course, you have a scheduled day off. In which case, you take a decided, scheduled day off: and when you rest, get good rest.
Writers have to read, runners have to recover: this is the least good analogue in the series, but if a runner runs a hard run and doesn't eat at least a decent meal . . . the gains, I would guess, will be discouraging.
Grammar: form. I take some time on each run to work on my stride (it has been too long my whole life, but continues to shorten) and my breathing (which has always been uneven and choppy).
Don't lie to yourself. That's the answer I told myself on my run today. A lot of young writers tell themselves they write best under pressure, so they put everything off until the last minute. A lot of young writers tell themselves they write best with loud music or while they're watching The Daily Show or while they're cooking. While I am certain that there are a couple of procrastinating, headbanger, multitasking writer-chefs in the world, my guess is that most of us are like me, and maybe write one crazy good thing under bizarre circumstances, but, for the most part, we write like we run, better with a sustained consistent effort, with a schedule, by ourselves, as we focus on running.
But what about the running questions: okay, the same principles apply, I think. Should I start pushing for a faster pace, how much running can I add each week, how hard should I push? "Well," the answer came to me, "don't lie to yourself." I'm the only person who knows whether I'm hurt or injured. I'm the only person who knows whether I worked too hard yesterday such that I should not push very hard today or whether I'm just feeling tired because I stayed up too late watching Downton Abbey. I'm the only one who can decide whether it's going to hurt my run to eat a second brat at midnight or have a handful of peanuts.
Some runners have trainers or coaches. Most of us just take ourselves through the paces, getting good and bad advice from friends and fellow runners (not to mention strangers who, invariably, know more about our health than we know). So should I then set my mile-repeats goal for 6:15? At this point, I'm saying yes. I don't have any major creeks or soreness. I'm not pushing myself to injury. If I were to say I didn't want to continue improving my time, I think that impulse could easily be traced back to my being lazy. So, for now, I will continue to increase my distance and intensity. Maybe tomorrow I'll change my mind.
Saturday:
I ran four miles on the treadmill today (34:00) -- most of the time, I ran an 8:57 pace, but I did increase the intensity five or six times for a minute or two. I didn't want to tax my body too much, but I did want to get my heart rate up at least a little. I think it was a good idea.
What wasn't a good idea today? Eating six Jammin Jalapeno chicken wings at the Restaurant Whose Name Should Not Be Mentioned for lunch. Well, that wasn't a terrible idea in and of itself, but couple with the fact that I chased those wings with six of their hottest Habenero chicken wings: all the events of lunch, taken together, were not the best pre-run meal I've ever eaten.
Still, I made it through the workout. Nobody around me suffered for my lunch, but . . . well, my insides were not thrilled with me. So while we're on the topic of don't lie to myself: I need to make better choices for pre-run meals.
Sunday:
Long run this afternoon, probably on the treadmill, given the ice storm of the last couple days. Just a note, though: a bad pre-run meal decision can have effects the next day as well.
Tuesday: 3.4
Wednesday: 3.4
Thursday: ~13.0
Friday: ------
Saturday: 3.4
Sunday: 3.4
Monday: 7.0
Tuesday: 3.4
Wednesday: 3.4
Thursday: 8.0
Friday: 3.4
Saturday: 4.0
Previous: 79.1
Year To Date: 86.5 miles.
Running Days: 16
Days off: 5
I'll post again after the long run.
I dragged the crapradoodle for the 3.4 mile maintenance loop (~36:00) at around 29 degrees. Today, I started to answer some of yesterday's questions, or, at least, I started answering some of the huge sweeping questions of my life, and the answers reminded me that I had asked myself some questions the day before, and . . . you know what, here:
With all of my writing classes, I have a number of suggestions that I give them, regardless of the caliber of writing or the objectives of the class: if I wants to be a better writer, for instance, I have to sit down, everyday, and write; I have to read; I have to learn grammar (despite how much I disliked learning it in sixth grade); and, a lesson that makes them all uncomfortable, I can't lie to myself.
Those same rules apply to running: run (or cross train) every day, unless, of course, you have a scheduled day off. In which case, you take a decided, scheduled day off: and when you rest, get good rest.
Writers have to read, runners have to recover: this is the least good analogue in the series, but if a runner runs a hard run and doesn't eat at least a decent meal . . . the gains, I would guess, will be discouraging.
Grammar: form. I take some time on each run to work on my stride (it has been too long my whole life, but continues to shorten) and my breathing (which has always been uneven and choppy).
Don't lie to yourself. That's the answer I told myself on my run today. A lot of young writers tell themselves they write best under pressure, so they put everything off until the last minute. A lot of young writers tell themselves they write best with loud music or while they're watching The Daily Show or while they're cooking. While I am certain that there are a couple of procrastinating, headbanger, multitasking writer-chefs in the world, my guess is that most of us are like me, and maybe write one crazy good thing under bizarre circumstances, but, for the most part, we write like we run, better with a sustained consistent effort, with a schedule, by ourselves, as we focus on running.
But what about the running questions: okay, the same principles apply, I think. Should I start pushing for a faster pace, how much running can I add each week, how hard should I push? "Well," the answer came to me, "don't lie to yourself." I'm the only person who knows whether I'm hurt or injured. I'm the only person who knows whether I worked too hard yesterday such that I should not push very hard today or whether I'm just feeling tired because I stayed up too late watching Downton Abbey. I'm the only one who can decide whether it's going to hurt my run to eat a second brat at midnight or have a handful of peanuts.
Some runners have trainers or coaches. Most of us just take ourselves through the paces, getting good and bad advice from friends and fellow runners (not to mention strangers who, invariably, know more about our health than we know). So should I then set my mile-repeats goal for 6:15? At this point, I'm saying yes. I don't have any major creeks or soreness. I'm not pushing myself to injury. If I were to say I didn't want to continue improving my time, I think that impulse could easily be traced back to my being lazy. So, for now, I will continue to increase my distance and intensity. Maybe tomorrow I'll change my mind.
Saturday:
I ran four miles on the treadmill today (34:00) -- most of the time, I ran an 8:57 pace, but I did increase the intensity five or six times for a minute or two. I didn't want to tax my body too much, but I did want to get my heart rate up at least a little. I think it was a good idea.
What wasn't a good idea today? Eating six Jammin Jalapeno chicken wings at the Restaurant Whose Name Should Not Be Mentioned for lunch. Well, that wasn't a terrible idea in and of itself, but couple with the fact that I chased those wings with six of their hottest Habenero chicken wings: all the events of lunch, taken together, were not the best pre-run meal I've ever eaten.
Still, I made it through the workout. Nobody around me suffered for my lunch, but . . . well, my insides were not thrilled with me. So while we're on the topic of don't lie to myself: I need to make better choices for pre-run meals.
Sunday:
Long run this afternoon, probably on the treadmill, given the ice storm of the last couple days. Just a note, though: a bad pre-run meal decision can have effects the next day as well.
Eleven Day Tally
Monday: 8.4Tuesday: 3.4
Wednesday: 3.4
Thursday: ~13.0
Friday: ------
Saturday: 3.4
Sunday: 3.4
Monday: 7.0
Tuesday: 3.4
Wednesday: 3.4
Thursday: 8.0
Friday: 3.4
Saturday: 4.0
Previous: 79.1
Year To Date: 86.5 miles.
Running Days: 16
Days off: 5
I'll post again after the long run.
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