in a good place

It may not last, but at this moment, I’m in a confident, good place in my training.

It’s true, every 20 miler has gotten progressively slower. But I think that’s a function of my running with Natalie, who’s recovering from her 70.3 (I can’t even comprehend that kind of endurance event). And I’m thankful for her company; she’s a steady pacer and good conversation for many miles, an unflagging, happy partner on the road.

I’m happy to do most of my training by myself. I pace myself, I recover and run slowly when tired, and run fast when I feel like it. I wrote my own training schedule , fitting it around my life. I also tweak it myself, doing the workouts when I feel like it, pushing myself most of the time but occasionally giving myself a break or swapping a rest day for an easy day when I need to.

But I’m blessed with happy running friends, too, with whom I can run on occasion. This switches up my training and helps me run faster without burning out. In addition, it helps me glean great training tips and keeps me motivated along the way to greater goals.

I’m one 50-mile week away from taper. Though I know some would consider 50 miles extremely light for marathon training, I’m going to have to trust them to do the job for me for my first 26.2. Anything higher would have risked injury–even this mileage level is leaving me close to burnout. And it’s my first marathon. I don’t intend to race it, but to treat it as a learning experience. I intend to put in more miles, more speedwork, and more varied training, if I ever decide to race another.

Though I intended to do more speedwork, I think in the final balance I was wise to shuck it in favor of easier miles that would be easier on my legs. Risking injury wasn’t worth speed, not for this marathon. Increasing mileage was the primary goal, and doing speedwork was an additional stress that I had to sacrifice to the higher purpose of running the race at all.

And I didn’t shirk on my long runs or my daily mileage, though it was more than tempting. The darkness is pervasive at 5 o’clock, even in Florida.

I’m thrilled that I scheduled four 20-mile runs, and I’ll be even more thrilled if two of them end up crossing the 20-mile threshold; last week’s was 21 ½ and I hope to make it to 23 next week. I’ve learned more about fueling and pacing from those runs than I can put in these entries, and the confidence that I’ll have at the starting line, knowing I’ve covered that distance, is intangible but real.

Finally, looking at my pacing for those longer runs is giving me the additional confidence to know that the projected times I’m looking at on the marathon pace band I intend to wear on race day might be achievable. To run 9:30 miles, then 9:15, and then sub-9 at the end of a 20-mile run is encouraging and instructive–pacing and fueling well are key.

Can I keep my mind from playing tricks on me during three whole weeks of taper? It remains to be seen.

Today, I’m in a good place: thankful for good training, good friends, for running.

long tempo run

Set out on my long run today with one of my favorite running friends. She’s faster than I am,* so I know when I set out to run with her that I’m in for a good workout. We had 12 on the schedule for today.

It dawned cold today in southeastern Florida, friends. Once you factored in the wind, it felt like it was in the upper 30s. Hey, that’s cold to us. I had on a long-sleeve top and had brought one to change into for our after-run hot chocolate (every long run deserves a treat), but decided to wear both for the run–and boy, am I glad I did. In fact, I wished I’d brought along the gloves I picked up at Target for 50 cents the other day–hasten there, Florida friends, if you need a cheap pair of gloves for the next time the temps here hit 30 degrees–apparently that will be Wednesday night.

But I digress. We ran through our neighborhood and, uh, neighboring areas, ducking in and out of planned developments, to get in our miles. Gwendolyn (I changed her name to protect the innocent!) is a master of planning our runs, and we hit the water fountains by the tennis courts at exactly six and a half miles. We blazed back out before we could get too cool.

When we finished the run, we had our promised hot chocolate. Delish.

Our splits: 9:31, 9:06, 9:02, 9:14, 9:06, 9:05, 8:38, 8:33, 8:37, 8:30, 8:40, 8:31. If we’d held that pace to complete a half marathon, it would have been my second-fastest ever. Hmmmm . . . can I get G to pace me for my next marathon?

*Gwendolyn qualified for Boston in November. She’ll be deferring her entry until the 2010 race, and I can’t wait to follow her training and race day. She’s a star in my book!

suspicions confirmed!

Yes, I am indeed missing an issue of Runner’s World!

I tried calling them but kept getting a busy signal, and then had to leave to go get the Lamb from school. As we were driving down our street, we passed the USPS truck driving the other way, so I knew mail had been delivered. As the weather seemed to be taking a downturn (a delicious cold front is on its way, leaving behind cooler temps for my long-ish run tomorrow, 12, maybe 14), I decided to go ahead and get it before it got wet–yes, our mailbox leaks.

What do you know, the March issue of my favorite magazine!

Wait, what happened to February?

Ah, yes. The phantom sorter strikes again!

See, we get random mail all the time–we live on 1234 2nd Street, and regularly get mail for 1234 1st Street and 1234 3rd Street. We also sometimes get mail for 1233 1st Street and 1235 1st Street.*

Now, I don’t to get all complain-y here. I like the US Postal Service. Their flat rate boxes are da bomb, and I certainly fear the day the only way to mark a birthday is to send an electronic greeting–yikes! But, seriously, how hard is it to read a label? Particularly, I have to point out, one that is electronically generated? I mean, this isn’t my neurologist’s garbled handwriting we’re talking about, or my grandmother’s curlycued calligraphy. It’s a neatly typed label affixed firmly on the front of my magazine, clearly addressed in 12-point font. If we can’t deliver this accurately, people, it’s no wonder the system’s failing. It’s not due to the cost of a stamp versus the non-cost of email. It’s not because I have to drive to the post office. It’s not even because a decade ago one of your employees went . . . uh, crazy.

It’s because I’d like to know when something’s in the mail . . . well, that it’s gonna get where it’s going.

*I would just like to say, to all neighbors out there, but particularly mine, that when this happens, the  Boss or I take a walk over to 1st Street, or 3rd Street, or down the street, or across the street, and deliver said mail. Because, as we can clearly see by the label/envelope, it’s not for us. Now, I like to think my neighbors are all similarly inclined, but maybe I’m wrong. At least one of them, presumably, is now training and fueling better. Many happy miles to him. Or her, as the case may be.

**Incidentally, an invitation also arrived today. It arrived enclosed in a lovely envelope from my postmaster that proudly proclaimed “We Care.” You see, my invitation had been damaged in the mail, and the postmaster wanted to assure me that this happens to very few of the 202 billion pieces of mail the USPS handles each year. Well, that’s nice. I’m still waiting for my February issue of RW.

Recovery Running

8 ½ yesterday, 9 today. Both runs actually easier than I expected, coming off the “blackjack run” of Sunday. Legs actually fairly obedient to my instructions: We’re running 9 today, people; Let’s pick up the pace, now.

Granted, I’m a tad sore. Hip-connects-to-torso area. Iced the left side yesterday before bed, so today, naturally, as if to make a point, the right side is sore. Hamstrings could use a massage or a beating, either would do. The perenially tight calves seem to have resigned themselves into silence. However, every once in a while, yesterday and today, my back has hollered out a complaint. Hmmm. Maybe it’s time for NSAIDs?

I realized last week that my runs have fallen into a somewhat predictable pattern of late, not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Sundays are recovery and family days. I occasionally schedule a major race on a Sunday (the Gasparilla Distance Classic is on March 1, a Sunday), but I don’t train on Sundays.

Mondays, usually recovery runs from the longer runs* but still one of the longer-mileage runs during the workweek just because of how the schedule works out, are now my music runs. I try to tune out my form and pace; because I have more time, I can run the prescribed distance at a very easy pace if I need to.

Tuesdays are usually speedwork days. On post-20 weeks, I don’t always do the prescribed speedwork if the legs are tired, though.

Wednesdays are short run days–six miles is all I have time for most weeks, since I have to be home by about 6 or 6:30 to get out the door in time for the day.

Thursdays are another open-ended day for an eight-or-higher mileage run, so I try to dedicate them to form work: paying attention to pace, breathing, or some other facet of my running. I don’t do speedwork because by Thursday it’s a little close to Saturday’s long runs.

Fridays are usually rest days, though on weeks the longer run is shorter, I don’t mind running an easy 4 to 6 miles, as long as I keep the pace really easy.

Saturdays are usually long run days because it’s when all time restrictions can be removed.

Now, see, today, I had this whole thought process about pacing buzzing around my head. I didn’t even check the schedule to see what kind of speedwork I had on the schedule. Instead, I thought I’d do pace work. The plan was to hold a steady ten-minute pace for the first four miles. Remember, this is supposed to be the pace I start my 26.2 at. I wanted to be intensely focused on what this pace feels like. Though I’ll be blessed with pacers at the Gasparilla Distance Classic, I feel like pacing myself is a skill I need to master as a runner.

At mile 5, I intended to bring my pace up to 9:45 and hold it for the next four miles. For the final mile of my 9-miler, I’d settle into whatever pace my body felt like coming home at.

So, set out for my steady-pace run.

Yeah, like I said, I stink at it. My splits:

1-10:28

2-10:25

3-10:11

4-10:07

5-9:54

6-9:43

7-9:31

8-9:28

9-8:41

How can I be so bad at it? I mean, I was really shocked to see I ran negative splits all the way. I knew I hadn’t nailed the pacing, but I thought I’d at least come close. Instead, I ran the first two miles at 10:30s, the next three at 10, one mile at 9:45, and then two at 9:30. Honestly!

Okay, nothing to it but to keep practicing. This week’s is a shorter long run so I can run hard on Thursday–maybe 9-minute miles–and do pace work again.

Whew.

*Funny that I’m at the place in training where this week’s prescribed 13- or 14-miler is a “short” long run and next week’s 23-miler is a “true” long run, the one that requires planning, rest, and fueling. Yikes.

Blackjack

Ran 21 on Saturday.

Had 20 on the schedule but had my fastest marathoning friend tell me she thought, mentally, 21 was actually easier than 20. I’d already planned to outrun 20 on my last long run and I thought, why not go ahead and outrun the distance twice? You know how I love putting in miles in practice . . . as long as I do it slow and don’t risk injury, why not?

I also realized that this was one of my last pre-race dress rehearsals, so I put a little more thought into what I wore for the run. A friend had let me borrow her Nathan belt, so I didn’t need my Race-Ready shorts. I picked my shorts from Target’s C9 line because they have a nice, low rise.

In the Nathan belt went two packs of Gu and two packs of PowerBar gel. I thought I’d thought this kind of fuel becuase they’re sponsoring the Gasparilla Distance Classic and if I need to use their fuel, I’d like to have tried it once before*.

I wore my Nike tempo singlet. I’ve been wearing my C9 long and lean tanks for races and most of my training, but by March 1st, it might be warming up in Florida. The tempo top has more ventilation and isn’t as tight, affording me more cooling. Over that top I wore my long-sleeved Nike top, which isn’t bad if I have to tie it around my waist.

It was 51 or so as I set out, just right for shorts and the long sleeve.

Ran into Natalie again right at around mile 1, which I finished in what I hope will be my beginning marathon pace–right at 10-minute miles.

Ran the next 12 miles with her happy company, at an average 10:26 pace. Though she says she’s saddened by her lack of speed, I will say one thing about this girl–she is a fantastic pacer. I am terrible at keeping to a constant speed, but Natalie can run mile after mile at one set speed and not get thrown off by much. Where our speed does vary, it’s where we get distracted and allow me to do the leading. If we let her pace, we’re steady.

Anyway, at her drop-off point (she was doing 13 that day), I turned around and reset my Garmin, since it had gotten crazy on me earlier in the run. Because I’d been with Natalie, I knew how many miles I had on (and mapping the run later at RunningAHEAD proved I’d nailed it–21.5 miles). I headed north and started picking up the pace.

My splits for my lonesome miles:

14-9:56
15-9:51
16-9:33
17-9:35
18-9:40
19-9:38
20-9:14
21-9:01

oh, and I ran another half just for the heck of it–at an 8:57 pace.

Some questions.

Should I be worried about the fact that I’m running the early miles a little slower than I intend to run them on race day? I see myself still speeding up in the later miles, so energy and resources are still available, though I tried to rein myself in somewhat this week since I knew I was running a new distance.

However, I am entirely aware that the reason energy is available may be the fact that I’ve just finished running 13 miles at 10:25 instead of 13 miles at 10:00.

The race predictors say I can run the 26.2 at a nine-minute pace, and I don’t want to try that speed in my first marathon and hit the wall with force. Instead, my strategy, for now, is to start at a ten-minute pace for the first 16 miles and see where I am when I get there. If I’m still alive and in the game, I’ll pick it up to a 9:45 pace. The strategy will have to play itself out from there.

Thoughts?

*Yeah, it’s a no go on the PowerBar gel. No offense, but . . . wow. It’s going to be back to the Accel Gel for me. I’m going to pack more fuel than I think I need, just in case. But, as Natalie pointed out, “I think at mile 23, you’ll probably eat anything.”Ah, the wisdom.

My Best Half

Remember, I’m a rookie, having run only two 13.1 races in about ten months, so take this with a grain of salt.

I ran my first half in February 2008 in 2:02:14, at an average pace of 9:20.

I ran my second in November in 1:50:36, an average pace of 8:27.

So I might not be able to tell you much about how to run your best half, but I can tell you how I ran my best half (so far!).

First, I established my goal. Though my initial goal in my first 13.1 was simply to finish as well as possible, and I’d predicted a finish of about 2:15, I came so close to breaking two hours, that this became my fierce goal: to break two hours in the half marathon.

With that goal in mind, I started training early–about four months before race day. This gave me the flexibility to play with my training without worrying too much (okay, I did worry, but at least I shouldn’t have had to) and allowed me to increase my long runs slowly and safely.

I wanted to get my long runs up to at least 15 miles. To keep these at one-third of my weekly mileage, I knew I needed my weekly mileage, not counting that long run, to be close to 30 miles. I only wanted to run four days most weeks, so I planned to run 8-6-8-6. Some weeks I added a 4 miler on Friday.

One day was slotted for speedwork. I tried to take turns between running intervals and tempo runs. At the beginning of the training cycle, my intervals were half-mile repeats with quarter-mile recoveries, but fairly soon after that I started running mile repeats with half-mile recoveries, eventually cutting the recoveries to a quarter-mile, which seemed (counter-intuitively) easier on me.  The pace on these runs was run progressively. Early in the training cycle my pace would average 8:30; I lowered it by about a minute by the end of the summer. Of course some of this was mental–I discovered how much slower I’d been running and how much harder I could push, and it didn’t hurt that the temperature was about 20 degrees cooler at the end of my training cycle than at the start–remember, I’m running in southeastern Florida, and I started training in July for a November race.

My tempo runs were always run at close to race pace after a warm-up mile. Eight-milers were pretty standard; the goal was to sustain a 9-minute pace, which is what I hoped to hold during the race. The secondary goal during these tempo runs was to run, if possible, negative splits. I tend to run negative splits naturally but I try to reinforce this natural tendency in training if I can.

As for the afore-mentioned long runs, I didn’t run long every week, though I suppose, now, that I could have. I ran long most Saturdays, extending the distance gradually until I’d run two fifteen-milers and two sixteen-milers. Close to race day I reserved a few longer runs (twelve-milers or so) and ran the middle miles at race pace. I also used the long runs to practice hydration and fueling since I didn’t fuel during my first half and I definitely wanted to do it in this second one.

You know, in retrospect, I followed Glover’s steps almost exactly, though at the time I wasn’t very well versed in his Competitive Runner’s Handbook. Here’s how a good training plan is built:

1. Choose your goal. Pick a race and plan your training based on that date. Remember to factor in a taper period. How much should you taper? That’s up to you–this time around I ran twelve miles eight days before race day.
2. Choose your weekly mileage; from there, determine your daily mileage. Remember not to build up your mileage more than 10% per week.
3. Determine and schedule your long runs. These should be no more than 30% of your weekly mileage; again, these should increase very gradually. A cutback or plateau week every third week is recommended.
4. Schedule speedwork once a week, ideally 48 to 72 hours from your long run (that is, both 2 days before and after your long runs, to guarantee that your legs are neither too tired from your long runs nor too tired for your long runs). My suggestion is to alternate tempo runs and mile repeats as described above.

Two things I did that I think helped:

Practice my race pace. Your body should know what it feels like to sustain this pace. Knowing you can hold this pace for six or eight miles will also give you confidence on race day.

Extend my long runs. It builds your endurance and gives you confidence on race day.

If you’re planning to race a 13.1 any time soon, get ready! Your best race may be ahead of you.

A Whole Half

Yeah, I’m not crazy about the moniker.

The 13.1 was the first race I really trained for, down to printing a plan from Hal Higdon’s website, pinning it on our bulletin board, and checking it obsessively several times a week. I tinkered with its mileage since I was above its daily runs when I started; I lengthened its long runs since I wanted to run past the race distance and Higdon has novice runners run only 10 miles before race day.

But, like I said, it was the first time I considered my running to be training. I was darn proud of myself, even when I got to the expo and noticed my bib was a different color than the “full” marathoners’. Thirteen miles is a heck of a long way. I had no shame in my goal–to finish my race strong and steady.

I’ll admit that, since then, I’ve had committed my share of gaffes, “dumbing down” my own race by saying I’m “just” racing a half or “just” training for a half marathon.

In reality, the 13.1 might be my favorite distance. In the heart of marathon training, it is especially easy for me to say this. Not only has marathon training been difficult on my legs, it’s been difficult on my schedule, my psyche, and several other aspects of life. It feels like every event has to be checked against the training schedule. Will I have time to do that Saturday? Well, I’ll be home from my run around 8:30, factor in a shower . . . Add to this the fact that I started training for my last half in July and I’ve been in training mode for a long time. And tired of it.

But the training for the half itself was enjoyable. Short, fast tempo runs. Shorter, manageable long runs. And the race distance itself is long enough to feel like an accomplishment, but short enough to race. 26.2 just is too long for me to race right now, but the 13.1 is a distance I can sink my teeth into.

No halfs about it.

cold weather running, florida style

When I set out today, the weather guy was warning us about the near-freezing temperatures and telling everyone to “grab an extra sweater” before heading out.

Here’s what I wore for my scheduled six-miler: my long and lean tank from Target (check it out on the Gear page), my old sweats (I think they’re from Walmart), my Reebok long-sleeve tech top, chosen because it’s the snuggest I have and would let in the least wind–it was gusting up to 10mph.

Over that, a vest I picked up on sale from Swix–it’s really too big for me, but it was an extra layer over my core I thought I’d be thankful for, and had a high neck, which none of my other pieces had.

Over that, a jacket from Target’s C9 line, light, but when zipped, wind-proof.

My wicking cap from Nike, and over that, the toboggan the Boss bought for me years ago when we visited San Francisco and went to a frigid Giants game. It’s about the only item of clothing that still fits from those “fat” years, since your head doesn’t change size when you drop sixty or seventy pounds.

I also had the Boss’ warm gloves, which, in retrospect, were way too big and too warm for the conditions. Socks would probably have done better.

So, mile 1, all layers on. Felt great. Tough. Florida drivers would go by and think, Wow, look at her, she’s running. Coldest day in three years and she’s out! Running!

Mile 2, jacket off, gloves off. What was I thinking? It’s 36, not 6!

Mile 2.2, gloves still off, but jacket back on, unzipped. What was I thinking, this is my Southern heart we’re talking about, and it is just a few degrees above freezing. And windy.

Mile 2.5, vest unzipped. I feel great. Let’s do it again tomorrow.

Mile 3, vest zipped, pace slowing. Heading into the wind. It’s friggin’ cold. Gloves back on.

Mile 4, jacket off. Going through a more residential area gives protection from the wind. Gloves are now on and off every half-mile, and I’m considering using them as tissues.

Miles 5 and 6, the wardrobe is unchanged, save the gloves are now a pain. If they’re in my hand, my fingers feel like ice. If they’re on my hands, they’re too warm. No middle ground. The jacket is a belt around my waist, and my nose is running faster than I am.

In all, it was a nice run, the kind I hope to call to mind in the evil miles of the marathon. If I can get myself out of bed when it’s thirty-four degrees outside to go running, and run into the wind, it’s because I really, really want this. My pace was awful, my legs didn’t feel good, but today, I was bigger than all those things.

My hamstrings are really bothering me, which is factoring more heavily into my maybe taking tomorrow off or running less than the scheduled 8 than the fact that they’re telling us tomorrow will feel about 10 degrees cooler than it did today.

One big source of discomfort was my runny nose, and that was totally my fault because I knew on Saturday, when it was maybe 50 when I set out, that my nose acts up in cooler temps. And the gloves. They’re just wrong for me. If I do run tomorrow, I won’t wear those again. I’ll just run with socks on my hands or something.

Eight on the schedule tomorrow. Might be wiser to take a rest day or scale it back. But wisdom isn’t my strength as a runner . . .

Winter Arrives in Florida

Three waves of cold fronts have made landfall on our peninsula over the last ten days or so, progressively lowering the temperatures on our shores a little at a time.

Our daytime highs this month have actually hit the eighties. But, in the last few days, our highs have only reached the mid-sixties. Our lows have stayed in the fifties.

The coldest air by far arrives tonight. Our daytime highs over the next two days is predicted not to climb out of the fifties; the overnight lows are predicted to stay in the mid-thirties. The temps will gradually climb, and we’ll be back to lows in the forties and highs in the the low seventies by the weekend.

Sounds like paradise, doesn’t it? Some of you are packing your bags right now.

But to those of us that live here, especially, perhaps, those of us that get up early to run, we’re looking at those numbers and thinking, the mid-thirties? That’s freezing! Indeed, a freeze warning has been declared for the interior areas of the state.

I had plans to run with a friend this morning. When she heard a cold front was moving in she called and asked about the wisdom of running this morning. I told her today would still be warm; the front would be moving in during the day today. But she heard the wind howling overnight and texted me to cancel our run.

But I have a 20 on the schedule on Saturday. So I could run today, when the temps were in the low 60s with winds gusting 10 miles an hour, or wait until tomorrow and Thursday, when temps will be in the low 40s, and we have a 10% chance of precipitation. Hmmmmm.

I set out in the wind. It wasn’t the best run, by far. But I gotta get my miles in.

I do plan to run tomorrow and Thursday, by the way. I dug out my old sweat pants. I’m not sure they wick sweat very well but they’ll have to do. I have a big note on my mirror to remind me to find my gloves before I turn in for the night. I’m planning to wear my snug tank for a base layer, my snuggest-fitting long sleeve tech (or two), and a jacket. I don’t have a winter running cap, but I’ll find a way to cover my ears and head.

Hey, it’s going to be about 40 degrees when I set out. Runners all over the northeast run regularly in these conditions without inviting frostbite. How bad can it be?

Seriously, how bad can it be?

Love/Hate

Ah, those shorter distances of the endurance running community: the 5 and 10ks. These events are the entry points for many runners, and the speed-sharpening tools for many distance runners. I’m a rookie runner, about eighteen months into this thing, and am still in a love/hate relationship with these distances.

Things I love about these shorter-distance events:

1. The training. It doesn’t beat you up or require a great deal of time commitment. You only need to develop the endurance to run, at most, a few miles past the race distance, so if you can’t commit to hours of running on the weekends, you can still go out and bang a great 10k.
2. The speed. I love speed, and in these races, you go from the gun. Unlike longer distance events in which there are miles to pace yourself, in order to race a fast 5 or 10k, you have to blaze it from the line. If you’re into speed, it’s a wonderful change of pace from the longer, slower pace of other distance events.
3. The crowds. Because they are shorter-distance events and good for beginners, these races attract all kinds of runners, both serious and recreational, and this creates a wonderful atmosphere. You can have local elites lining up at the front of the crowd that look like they were chiseled from marble, and suburban moms running or walking with strollers, as well as some people who paid the fee just to walk a nice course.
4. They’re everywhere! These races are popular events, and many organizations use them as fundraising opportunities, and they are therefore not difficult to find. In many places you could, if you chose, race between 3 and 6 miles every weekend if you chose. Missed your PR this week? Don’t worry, you’ll get another shot soon.

Okay, now here are things I don’t love about these shorter races:

1. The training. Boy, it will keep you honest. Sure, you can cut back your long runs if you want. But there’s no cutting out your speedwork. And gone are mile repeats when you can run at an easier pace. Suddenly you’re running these shorter intervals at a pace that feels like will cause your lungs to sear. The mileage may be easier, but the speedwork’s a bear. If you want to perform, the stopwatch had better be your new best friend.
2. The speed. Again, it’s a race from the get go, and you’d better know your place. You don’t have a mile to get around the slow people and find your place. If you lose ten seconds to the person who lined up in the wrong spot, your PR’s up in flames. Taking water suddenly becomes a do-or-die choice, if you’re in it to race it. Every second counts in these shorter events. Speed is everything.
3. The crowds. Yikes, did every recreational runner get up this morning and think, What a great day for a run? Yep, and they all showed up for the free t-shirt and bagels. And they all decided to run 8-minute miles with you.
4. They’re everywhere! Because of this, it can be hard to pick out the really good ones until you’ve raced every shorter event within 50 miles of your zip code for two years. Then you know which ones are hilly, perpetually windy, have only one porta-potty, or aren’t well staffed. You’ll discover sometimes, a more technically difficult course works to your advantage, and you’ll trek farther to run it.

These distances can be fun. They keep your heart, lungs, legs, and head sharp, and are great places to practice racing and pacing strategies, and even the training is a great place to learn about what works best for your body. Though the half may be my favorite distnace, combining speed and endurance, I don’t intend to quit racing these shorter distances, simply because . . . well, I like speed.