You have to be a little bit crazy to run a marathon. Crazy and crazy disciplined (adds the method to the madness).
It is 26.2 miles after all (and always…just for the record…again, all marathons are 26.2 miles).
And right about now, as the Chicago Marathon gets underway, several thousand runners are probably feeling more than a little bit crazy.
Two years ago I was one of them and a year from now I plan on being one of them again.
Anyone who’s ever even considered running a marathon has heard this question several hundred times. It’s the auto-response to any mention of a marathon.
Unlike the question the answer can not be boiled down to one single syllable. There is no one answer.
Because I wanted to know I could do it. Because my legs don’t hurt anymore. Because all the cool kids are. Because you don’t have to be Kenyan to run marathons (although I did meet some Kenyan marathoners…very nice).
Perhaps the best answer can be summed up in two syllables. Why not?
Good luck 2010 marathoners and congratulations. See you next year…because.
…all the news
All things marathon: Chicago Tribune
I defy you to find an organized race where they do not blast this song pre-race (and pre-dawn in most cases)…ironic, no?
Every other Wednesday I develop a terrible habit. In its simplest form it can be described as clock watching.
I can’t help it, I have to watch almost every second pass, make sure I didn’t miss any. It’s ridiculous.
It’s also not what you think. Unless of course you too have “tempo” runs every other Wednesday.
Let me explain. In my running schedule Wednesdays are on a rotating schedule. This week it’s “tempo,” next week it will be (insert # here) repetitions of 400 meter pace running. Sounds exciting, I know.
Anyways, a tempo run is pretty much what it sounds like. You vary your pace for given time intervals during the run. Today I chose to divide my 40 minute tempo run into 15-10-15.
In theory this would mean I’d go my standard pace for the first and last 15 minutes of the run, and push myself during the middle ten.
In reality I have one speed and it’s forward. Yes, I can push myself to go faster, but my control of my pace cannot be controlled.
Therefore, I become a clock watcher. You know those runners who look down at their wrist as you pass them.
That’s me, just praying that somehow ten minutes have passed in the last ten feet (I have my slow days).
This right here is the answer to that question that I’ve been asked many times, “Why don’t you wear a watch when you run?” It’s for the health of my neck.
Coincidentally, that’s also one of the reasons why I don’t run with an Ipod…but that’s another story for another day and another blog.
a couple of lessons in rhythm…and the lack thereof