Ten: it comes down to this

I have long been toying with changing how I approach my running.  That “toying” came to a head in the last few weeks.  That is partly because of my having to deal with this Achilles injury, partly because I am increasingly cognizant of other weaknesses I have long ignored, and partly because of insight of what I am capable of doing versus needing to do versus wanting to do. 

Most of these recognitions are not new, and probably for long time visitors of this blog they are painfully redundant.  The issue has been that while I have recognized these in the past, I have done little to change my approach.  Some of this unwillingness to change was because I had established habits.  Some of this was because to some extent I was happy with what I was doing.  I enjoy getting out for an hour or two a day on roads, trail, and track.  And sometimes I enjoy that short term view to the detriment to the long term view (a race on the horizon).

We’re all different.  Some of us will totally look at the race in six months, and do everything for that as if it is the only thing.  Some of us will not give a crap and just do what suits us today.  Neither is wrong.  Neither absolutely defines success more than the other.  For me however, continuing to do the same thing and be frustrated with the results … well, that is the definition of insanity, right?

So this “reboot” of sorts was verbalizing that to force myself more to consider it.  It means that I can either a.)  change what I am doing b.) change what I expect c.) some combination of a and b or d.) continue to do the same thing and not expect any change. 

I think that I have started to embrace “a” (going to the gym, not running even though I can but on a compromised piece of grizzle, cross training on the bike) and “b” (actually letting go of what might be the results I want).  I have heard that research says it takes about two months of daily repetition to form a habit.  If that is true, the past two weeks are a step in the right direction, but hardly indicative of future behavior.

So what does that all mean in terms of what my training looks like? 

First and foremost, I need to listen to this Achilles.  I think it is nearly completely healed and I will start to test – evaluate that shortly with some short easy runs.  I must be completely willing to accept that it is not, regardless of the time table I may have in the caverns of my mind and rest it longer if necessary.  That could be the whole summer.  Or fall.  I need to be okay with that.  Admittedly, I hope not … but if it is, then it is.

Once it heals, whenever that is, then I will bring myself back to some level of regular running.  I want my running however to look different than the 10 a day, 70 miles a week standard it was recently.  I really want to get to a point where I focus that on three runs a week.  And those would be a.)  a hard short interval run (like 1 minute on, 1 minute off on hills or 10 x 400 or 3 minute intervals on a hill or halves or kilos on the track) b.) a longer tempo run (again – alternating these between hills and flat) and c.) a long run (preferably in the hills this time of year).  All other runs are almost unnecessary.  I need to be content with filling any other days with a day off, a 3 mile run, a hike, a bike ride or other cross training.

Second, I need to continue to embrace the gym as a way to address other weaknesses.  It will make me a better runner and athlete.  Longer term it will mean I can run longer.  And I like that idea.  And for what it is worth, I like the gym. 

Third, it is sort of a combination of the first and the second but I really need to make those other days – well, other days.  This could mean time on the bike, or really easy running, or goofing off at altitude by cutting trees or something.

And finally, I need to remain committed to this.  There is still a desire to go back to do what I have done.  There is still some question in the belief of this approach.  Today I am committed but I need to be sure to stick to it. 

So enough with all this talk.  Time to action.

Nine: is this how I rank?

I am writing this one from the stationary bike.  In part to kill time on it before I get to the hard stuff where time kills me. 

Before I get into it today, I want to be clear that I am happy.  I realize that some of these posts come across as a bit tortured, frustrated, and maybe even a bit angry.  I guess there is some truth to that, but it is only a sliver of it.  I see the latest relearning of these lessons as a very positive thing.  I see success via failure. 

And on whole, I am an incredibly lucky dude.  I know there are some folks out there who say they rather die then to not be able to run another step.  I absolutely love running, but if it were something I could never do again, I’d miss it – but I could be completely content and full in so many other aspects of my life.  And the new ones I would explore.  I feel pretty lucky in that regard. 

Anyway …

After I “ran” 2:37 in 2006 on the Pikes Ascent, I convinced myself to run the marathon.  I was pretty confident that with some changes to training (namely more hill training), I’d be able to run much more of the up (I walked so much in that Ascent PR!), and thus put in a 2:30.  I’d   then roll down to a 4:10.  Maybe even a sub four.  

Five marathons later and I have run a scatter between 4:30 and 4:55.  The results speak for themselves. Not bad by the measure of many, but not what I thought I could do and so that expectation is part of some of the rewiring I have to consider.  I wanted to put a mark on that race.  And this is not unusual for runners.   The clock number becomes what you are.   Your place as well, but the clock number is what gets compared year over year.  Effectively, your name goes into the results and it is there forever. 

Of course it is NOT what you are.  You are not just a name and a number in a result.  There is a story behind that result.  And I don’t just mean the training or the race day execution.  I mean the bigger story. 

After any race, when I get home, my family NEVER asks me what was my place or time.  They ask, “How’d it go?”  If I answered them with a time result, they would not understand.  With Pikes, they’d really have no clue.  I could tell them it took me 2 hours and they’d still smile.  Or 9 hours.  In a blissfully ignorant and loving fashion, they don’t care what the clock said.  What they really want to know is “are you happy with the result?”  Because if I am happy, then they are happy for me and then they too are happy.  If I am pissed, well, they are sad for me.  And probably sad too.  And what good is that?

Slight side note-tangent … Regarding place in a race,  that number sort of means even less to me.  Certainly in a race, I race with consideration for place.  But I recognize that is sort of a contrived measure.  Supposedly I was third master last year.  Of course, that was after Bernie and Matt were not considered in those rankings because they were in the top 10.  I use place as a race day tool, but really if I execute as well as I can, the place will be as good as it can be.  For some, the few who go for the win, this might mean different tactics.  Those tactics are probably not appropriate for the lot of us in the middle of the pack.

I still feel I can PR at Pikes.  Maybe not.  That day might be behind me.  But I am not going to give up on that as a possibility.  But I am not going to make it the sole objective of success.  I don’t think I ever have actually, but I want to put it in better perspective.  The race is a celebration of a journey of maximizing everything I did to prepare and execute.

Maybe this approach of taking time off and then getting after it in May, June and July works.  Maybe it doesn’t.  Maybe it means pretty much no difference at all.  Maybe I PR.  Maybe I don’t.  Maybe I get close.  If I PR, everyone says, “wow, see – it could be done.”  If I don’t, folks say “eh, he was a head case and injured.”  Or “he was getting old and getting all out there about whether he wanted it or not.” 

Or maybe I discover in two weeks the Achilles is still as jacked as it was.  Or maybe I discover I am screwed with it still come August 1. And I should not race at all.  But if I don’t it is not who I am.  Who I am is the choices I make in managing the journey. 

Here is what is really crazy:  when I can see that and grasp that concept, not only am I more content with how I train, I am more effective.   When I am not, grasping at expectation, I am almost like the batter in a slump who is trying desperately to get a hit.  They tense up and become worse.  But when he relaxes and forgets that he is in a slump, he can hit again.

One more of these tomorrow as a wrap on the series … it is time to take the next step …

Eight: I forget what eight is for.

Again, I really wanted to run yesterday … and today.  I can clearly see a split in my head:  being frustrated and upset by the fact that I should not run, and being content that I would not run because of a commitment I made to myself.  Habits are hard to break.  Even when they are good habits to the point of being a fault.

I was going a little stir crazy.  Seeing the mountains, and the meadows just below them turning green, well I wanted to be in that.  I wanted to forget my commitment to get this Achilles 100 percent healthy:  it will never be 100 percent healthy you clown.  You put the GD thing in a lawn mower.   

I see evidence around me that getting into peak condition for folks who have a large base is not something that takes six months or a year.  The 2010 UROY alludes to it here.  Joe Uhan touches on it here.  Carpenter talked about it last year at Pikes. 

I can’t relate directly to the pressure he talks about in that video, but I can relate to some of the concepts.

I see guys who do it all the time.  They take a bunch of time off but then come roaring back off a little training or a short training period and kill it.  Clearly they don’t do this by sitting on the couch for six months and eating ring dings and drinking yoohoo.  They are doing something … more aligned to “exercise” versus “training.”

I confess that I get afraid that by not training, I am going to lose some edge of fitness, or some discipline.  And that represents some sort of failure of myself.  And I don’t like that.  And so I get into a mental trap of always wanting to advance my fitness … even when I see evidence that is contrary to that.  I am clearly still arguing with myself on that.

I have to believe that I can take every day off from running between now and May 1 and still rally to be a stronger athlete than I was in 3 months time … by pulling from my base, by being focused in that three months, by being smart, by taking care of the other 22 hours in the non training event, by taking the training I am given and not that I want, and by believing it can be done – because I have seen it can be done.

Seven: the time table

I really want to run today.  My Achilles feels pretty good.  I am walking around this AM trying to determine if there is any pain in there whatsoever.  I can’t feel anything but when I think about a single body part with that much focus I almost feel as if it is our programming to feel something.

I probably won’t though, as I will look to take recent advice from my friend who stated something like, “once you think it is healed, take more time off.”  There is still a little blistering under the scar on the left foot, so that ought to be enough to give me pause.  Typically it wouldn’t.   I’d feel compelled to run because I enjoy it.  I’d feel compelled to run because I had to because I only had so much time and I did not want to waste it.

There are 123 days until Pikes.  Or 17.5 weeks.  Look up marathon plan out there and nearly all of them are 20 week plans, maybe more.  Sure, there might be a few that are less, but I have felt that Pikes, with its distance, altitude, 7800’ of up, 7800’ of down required every single one of those days.  And probably not just 20 weeks but 36.  Or more.

It probably didn’t help that I heard stories of guys like an out of shape and overweight Scott Elliott.  He was watching the PPA one year and saw Jeremy Wright win in 2:18.  He had not run the race in four years but je believed “that winning time is too slow” and took the whip to himself everyday for the next year.  He took second behind Jeremy the following year, and won the race over Jeremy the following year.

Or similarly, Matt Carpenter, feeling the sting of a loss to Ricardo Meija in 92, trained insanely for the next year to come back and set a ridiculous course record.

And so I let this belief that I needed every second of training, the time table, and the subsequent plan set up my training and how I approached fitness.  In such and such period prior to the race, I was bound to some training that the time table and the belief led me to.  Then when that time period changed, I shifted the training to the next expected phase.  Base, hill training, effort specific runs over hill and dale, taper and race. 

If done right, it can work.  But for the most part is the body really does not give a crap about a time table.  Your quads have no idea that you have a race in 123 days.  Maybe you would benefit from continuing your base phase longer than what your schedule or time table says.  Maybe you have started to plateau with aerobic training 20 weeks out.   Or maybe you get hurt 123 days out from the race.

I need to progress my fitness from where I am, not where I want to be or where I think I ought to be based on the calendar.  There is no calendar that my heart and lungs have any awareness of.  They have some capability now.  I can look to maximize that capability and improve it today, tomorrow, but there is no thought as to what they can do in 17 weeks.  I can tailor and tweak that to some extent to some race date and time table, but I should not let the calendar drive it.  Instead I need to progress my fitness in a way that is logical to the stepping stone I am standing at.  Blanket subscription to a plan to could mean moving forward in a way that is not considerate of what I really could benefit from.

The challenge here of course is the mental clinging that I have to be of my best fitness come that race day in August.  The need becomes then to change that thinking to getting to my best fitness whenever that comes – and making that the goal.  The rest will fit in appropriately.

By the way, it is crazy that five guys broke four hours in 93.

Six: Be smarter dummy

Somewhere in the late 90s, maybe early 2000s, I did the Pearl Street Mile.  I placed something like 12th or 13th, running a time in the mid 4:30s.  I had no expectation to win this race, as it drew some serious competition.  But I recall looking at the results and thinking, “all those guys ahead of me worked harder than me to run faster than me.”

This thought bubbled to specifically combat the “talent” argument.  “Talent” is that so called variable that you have no control over.  You are born with it.  It makes some of us grow to 7’1” and NBA bound, and others with sub 50 400m speed with no training. 

I chose not to worry too much about talent.  I have no control over it.  You can’t measure it.   I have what I have; it is really about maximizing it from there.  As I ran more it became clearer to me that worrying about talent was worry wasted.  This doctrine was cemented by the fact that that apparently everyone I knew who ran claimed to have no talent and was instead a product of hard work (side note, dontcha just love when someone says to you how natural a runner you are?  What the heck is natural about running in excess of a hundred miles a week and at speeds often where your eyes feel like they are bleeding?).

So I chose to ignore talent.  This means that there are two other categories of runners:  those who work harder than me, and those who don’t.  Except there was evidence for something else.  Those who ran smarter than me.

There was of course the obvious manifestation of this:  race execution.  I could train harder and smarter than someone but if I ran stupid on race day (translation, went out too fast), I could be looking at the rear of guys (and gals) that I should have by my “harder” calculation should have beat.  As stinging as such losses were, the opposite was incredibly sweet.  I came away the victor over a 4:05 mile one time in a 1500 meter indoor race when the kid took the pace out well under 60.  Slipping by this “harder” worker because of his less than “smart” execution made for a nice win.

But beyond race execution, there was the less obvious.  There were those who I obviously trained much harder than, and I was perhaps even more “talented” than (if I chose to consider that unconsiderable attribute), but I could not seem to challenge.   They put in less miles, they did not do as many hard workouts, they were less likely to do the extra credit warm up and cool down, and they cross trained.  And they also ended up making it to the finish line before me. 

W.T.F!

So, as you have already guessed, they trained smarter.   They made their easy days easy.  They made their hard days ridiculously hard.  They recovered well.  They could listen to the subtle sounds of their body as to how to eek the most out of it – including when to stop and do something else, or stop altogether.

I am going to use an example here:  UROY 2011 winner Dave Mackey.  A couple of years ago, Dave, Footfeathers, JV and I went out for a run on the Flatiron Vista trail.  We all agreed it was going to be easy.  And it was.  We could all hit miles sub six, and maybe sub five if we wanted to but we were content to float 9 and 10 minute miles on the trails. 

And we had to stop and keep waiting for Dave.  Dave was way the hell back. Waaaay back.   I recall wondering “what the hell is wrong with him?  Is he hurt?  Is he okay?”  I had the audacity to ask him in some form and he, in his soft spoken way, stated he was fine and just relaxing.  Even with our easy running, we dropped him a on the downhill (Dave is super human on downhills) back to the lot, where I made Footfeathers do an extra quarter mile to assure that I got 10 miles to read on my wrist bitch GPS.

The next weekend, Dave collected another one of his kabizillion victories.  So much for me working harder the week before.  There are, of course, countless other examples that I can think of.  Lucho’s 50 mile a week approach to his 2010 Leadville comes to mind.  This is not to say that hard work is not necessary, or that it is not a huge key to getting the most out of the talent you were born with.  It is but it ain’t the only element. 

I have worked hard but then looked at myself and often said, “meh, you suck.  You need to work harder.”  It is a good attitude, but it is often one that leads down a path of destruction and less than optimal results.  And again, as one gets older, the room to make this error gets smaller and smaller.  I can work smarter.  The first step is recognizing when I am digging myself into that hole.  The second step is putting down the shovel and climbing out. 

Five: the other 22 hours

I have received various forms of feedback in the last couple of days that the answers to the questions and considerations that I am posing are very obvious.  And that means it either resonates well with folks because they also consider these topics or it means they see the topics as so ridiculously elementary they wonder what the hell my problem is.

I have established training habits that have brought me some level of success, but now I feel are necessary to change.  I am using this blog as a tool to “re-write the firmware” in the program. 

Part of the goal here is to toy a bit of a thought experiment that I can reprogram myself.  We all have beliefs as to what we need, want, love, hate, think we need to do or should avoid.  My examining this in a context of my running and endurance endeavors is really just the “skin of the apple” on this topic, but it is a relatively safe place to play with this.

I understand for some folks that might not make sense.  They can see what they want to do, and just make the decisions to do it … and so when they see on going repetition of writing like this, it seems like a Dr. Seuss book – ridiculously elementary and childish.  In many regards, there is a lot of me that is still a child.

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Anyway, the thought I propose today in how to better be the kind of athlete I want to be might be a bit more controversial, as it is almost in direct contrast to yesterday’s thought.

I often focus on what my run or activity ought to be for a day or maybe more broadly the training I want to get in a week.  I think about key workouts, how many miles I want to get, how much climbing, and how much time on my feet.  If I can represent that I put in 14 hours in a week with a 100 miles and so much vertical, I look at that week as successful.  Or even on the day scale, if I get in the three hour run in the mountains, or the 10 mile run under 70 minutes with intervals in it, it was a success.

And there is some truth to that of course.  Those measures have some value.  But they overlook something.  And that is everything else I do.

Even if I run 2 hours a day, there are 22 other hours in that day that need to be considered.  I can – and have – completely undone the benefit of any particular work I have done in a workout by not taking care of myself outside of that workout.  Not all the time.  But enough.  I often fail to appropriately hydrate.  I can turn the workout (either consciously or unconsciously) into some sort of rationale to reward myself to remained disciplined with dietary choices (“hey, I kicked ass on that workout, I deserve another beer”).  I might ignore sleep requirements.  Or eschew other general strength training that would be hugely beneficial. 

What I do in the other 22 hours is equally as important, and perhaps of even greater importance, to my effectiveness as an athlete.  I can nail every run between now and a key race, but if I fail to do the other things necessary to grow stronger … well, I won’t get stronger.  And I will reap what I sow.

And for what it is worth, this has certainly become magnified as I have aged.

Part of the reprogramming will have to include an appropriate examination of the other 22 hours.

SIDE NOTE AND POSSIBLE FUTURE TOPIC:  Obviously this is not meaning that  monastic living is required all the time.  But I am one of those that find when I “break the seal,” I go to flood water state versus a trickle.  For example, in the past I have elected to stop drinking beer for months leading up to a key race.  Why do this?  Because it is easier for me to have no beer than to say I can have only one (maybe, that should be the next challenge then).   Clearly this is about how to manage the other 22 hours and with what level of balance…

SIDE NOTE 2 and POSSIBLE FUTURE TOPIC:  something I have been less than eager to write about is the topic of weight and performance on distance running.  I have chalked up most of last year’s drop in performance in the PPM to a lack of altitude training (being at sea level for a significant part of the summer) but I also have suspected that my business travel life style bumped my weight up.  Carrying an additional 5lbs around a regular basis ain’t a big deal, but it makes an impact when climbing a 14er as fast as you can (although probably less so coming down!).   This is also about the other 22 hours, but more in the days and weeks leading up to a key event … and also balance.

Four: This ain’t the Olympics

Part of the reason why I think I need to change up my training is because I don’t think I can do the training I think I have to do.

Huh?  In other words, there is clearly a part of me that thinks I need to push the envelope with training 15 hours a week, a 100 miles a week, tons of vertical, time at altitude.  Clearly that sort of strategy, if it does not destroy you (or it does any you come out of it stronger), will provide a strong foundation for success in mountain marathon type races.

But, I am not sure I can pull that off.  I think I might be able to manage it physically, and in fact I have to some extent in the past.  But, given the other choices I have made in my life and the knowing the bigger picture things that are important to me, I don’t think I am going to be able to swing that sort of training to a point where I am satisfied … with that training.

This is really not a problem.  I mean it would be a problem if I was trying to be on the Olympic squad, or I was looking to make the USMRT as the most important thing.  But they ain’t.  I have a good job.  It requires me to travel a bit, and this summer it is looking to be fairly frequently (and often to sea level or near sea level elevations).  I have an amazing family that is involved in a lot of stuff (Scouts, soccer, baseball, piano, musicals, dog shows, various other social affairs) that I want to be a part of.  I am father.  I am husband.  I am a coworker.  I am glad I am those things.  Running is my hobby.  It is not my career.  It is not what I will be truly remembered as, as much as I might think it could be.

But it is sort of a little problem.  Because I do have that desire to do those things to get to that level.  So it is a gnat problem.  Buzzing in the back of my head at times. 

While it is clear to me what my priorities are and what is important, there are times where the waters are bit more muddy.  For example, I can sneak in more miles in the wee hours when my family is asleep, but then it impacts my performance at work, or my ability to be a present member of the family at some other point in the day. 

So I can either grasp at that, be frustrated with it, or change my approach. 

The second is more fruitful.

Three: The Athlete I Want To Be

In continuing my own personal reprogramming of why I should change my approach to fitness and endurance events, I also need to ask, what kind of athlete do I want to be?  This is a tricky question of course because it is not just a question of what sort of athlete I want to be, but what sort of person, father, husband, friend.  But to keep it simple for today, I will focus a bit more on the athlete side.

When I consider that question, I frame the possible answers in the context of looking at several athletes I have some level of respect or admiration for.  Or maybe that I don’t.  In other words, I see people that I want to emulate.  And I see folks that I don’t want to be like.

I also wonder what I would think if I did know me, and I stumbled across this blog and I read all the entries.  What would my impression of me be? 

With those two view points, I can begin to zero in on some answers. 

So who are the athletic people you’d want to be like?  The guy who runs the same route on a mountain every day?  They guy who logs 100 mile week after 100 mile week on the roads?  The guy who trains insanely but never races?  The guy who hikes in the woods?  They guy who runs three days a week and compliments that with biking, rock climbing, ultimate frisbee?  The dude who does 50 miles on Saturday and then comes back and does another 30 on Sunday?  The guy chasing all the high points in a state?  The guy who pounds a six pack after a 10 mile run?  The guy with all the gadgets, charts attempting to be the scientist with their training?  The guy without shoes?

There is a rationale and passion for all of those.  They are all good because they are who those folks are and who they want to be. You can probably look at those and say, “yeah he is talking about xxxx.” 

And when I look at my blog as an evidence of who I am, I see a guy who is consistent with the same training to the point of flaw.  He is the guy that talks a lot about reinventing himself – and I mean talks a lot – but can’t do it.  He can’t break his habits.  He claims this is because this is what he enjoys, but he equally seems frustrated by the same thing netting the same (or lesser) results.  He has become a slave to his blog at times.

He wants to be the guy who is smart and balanced about his training.  He wants to learn from failure.  He wants to be transparent with his training.  When I consider the athletes I respect, they are dedicated and committed to their training and racing.  But they are perhaps more happy with what the journey represents compared to the result.  They are not just strong runners, but are folks are strong physically in many regards.  They are men who strike a balance between training and that training being play … romping through the woods at break neck speeds because it is fun and exhilarating in that moment.  When training, they make the most of the workout they are in for that workout:  the easy day is easy and hard day is making your teeth sweat and your eyes bleed.

Doing what I have done is different than what I want to be and do.  Not hugely so, but significantly.  What about you?

Two: 2008

Continuing on the theme of why I should change my approach to fitness … again, I have been fairly steadfast that a commitment to consistency is key for success in endurance events.  And specifically, if you want to do well at marathons, you will be rewarded with a steady diet of running.  Run more.  More miles.  More time.  More often.  Year round.   Live like nobody else today so that you can live like nobody else tomorrow.

And this is certainly true nearly all of the time.  Look at the guys who have garnered success in the MUT scene and most are working more and harder than you.  Carpenter is noted for his commitment of 2 hours a day of training every day for a year leading up to Pikes.  Guys like Nick Clark reflect a consistency day over day, week over week, month over month of miles, vertical, time on the feet.  Arguably, any modicum of success I have had has come off withdrawing from the many training deposits I make over time.

So this sets to root a very strong belief that for me to run to the best of my abilities, particularly at a race like Pikes, I need to bank lots of miles in the fall, winter, and spring … in order to make for a good foundation for summer execution.  2010 was probably the pinnacle of this for me.  Loads of miles, little missed training, consistency, boring, but beautiful.

But then there is 2008.  I strained my groin in January.  I could still run on it, but it was clearly a problem.  After screwing around with it for several weeks, I sought medical assistance and considered the possibility of surgery for a so called “sports hernia.”  I stopped running for a bit and took to cross training as I could.  I gave up any hope of running the Pikes Marathon well and registered for the Ascent as well  - aka the Double.  How’s that for classic runner’s logic?  I can’t do well in one event, so let me register for two!

2008 Pikes of course was the epic snow year.  I went into the race weekend feeling unprepared with the training I had done, as that so called consistency had been, in my mind, compromised.  The weather conditions did nothing to raise my expectations, but instead I took solace that the weather was not perfect:  if it was, I’d lament more about a wasted opportunity.

But then I ran 2:48 up. The next day, after another ascent, I ran 1:42 down – and that included time for me to change my shoes at the summit.  The Saturday effort was my 2nd best Ascent at the time (and 3rd best now), and if you combo’d that up and down from Saturday and Sunday, I would have run close to my current PR on the hill.

So how did I do that when I was not putting in the training that I thought was necessary for that?  The real question probably ought to be was the so called training that I thought necessary really required?  Or could such results be achieved otherwise?

So now an Olympiad of time later I am dabbling with a similar issue:  an Achilles that I can run on but is clearly compromised.  I face the dilemma of thinking I need to run on it more to assure success.  But clearly there is evidence that I can accomplish good results off a different approach.

One: The Training Buck

As I mentioned yesterday, I have decided to take a different approach to this year in terms of what I do in regards to fitness endeavors.  I believe I am finally rewiring my head to consider how I approach races, training, expectation and results around that.  To many, this epiphany and hopefully subsequent actions on my part may seem more on par with a “no duh” event. 

But to reinforce this decision, I will blog here as to how I came to this conclusion and why it is important.  I am changing habits, and frankly I am not good at that.  I will look to leverage this blog as a tool to further my mental schema, and hopefully how I think … and subsequently act.

There are many reasons why I should change my approach to fitness.  They are interrelated and so they get gummed up in the calorie burner on the top of my neck.  So I will attempt to break them down, one by one, in no particular order of importance. 

Here goes:  one reason why I should change my approach to fitness and endurance events is that I have long overlooked aspects of my fitness to the point of detriment.   Clearly, banging out 70 miles a week for the last 3 and half years has had its benefits.  My consistency has been my strength.  But in that, it has become my weakness.  Given a half an hour window of training, I will spend that time running, to get miles.  Some have accused that this was to chase numbers, and there is certainly some truth in that.  But it was also built on a belief that to do better at running, I had to do more running.  That principle is certainly true in many cases, but I have exhausted that to some extent.  I spent all my training dollars on one aspect of fitness.  That has made me flawed and weak on many fronts.  I lack general strength in so many regards it is disgusting.  This may have been forgivable in my younger years, but it has become magnified with age and multiple years of disregarding it.  At some point, the spending of training time running looses maximal effectiveness for me, and that time would be better spent on other aspects of fitness … making me a more whole person physically, and probably a better runner to boot.

More to come.