I’ve mentioned before that I’m training using the Galloway method, sometimes called the “Run-Walk-Run” method. I run for thirty seconds and then walk for thirty seconds, repeating that cadence ad infinitum until I reach my prescribed mileage. Thus far, I’ve done most of my long runs in my neighborhood, looping back to my house every sixty minutes to restock and refuel. This means grabbing a new bottle of Tailwind and getting my gels and Clif Bloks for the next sixty minutes. Since each long long run is longer than the one before, I’m essentially adding an additional stop at home with each subsequent mileage increase.
In my last long run, I looped back to my house six times. In one sense, I like the cadence of my visits home. I can tell myself, One down, five to go, and then it seems like I’m making progress even though the distance on my watch creeps up at a glacial pace. One of running’s mind games is the passage of time. Sometimes I’m running and it goes by quickly, easily even. Sometimes, I feel that I’m running in circles and haven’t made any progress. Time compresses and expands on itself when I’m on my feet, only made more difficult because of the fact that the days are getting shorter. Darkness creeps in earlier and earlier into the evening, cutting the afternoon short. In the morning, I wait longer for the sun to rise above the horizon — and warm the air.
I can’t be too downtrodden about time, though. October is one of my favorite months, and not just for my birthday. I love all things haunted and spooky, and I love the cooler weather. I like Charleston, but it’s also very hot. I think of my 23-mile run and how it felt like running in a sauna for several hours. With October, the air has finally cooled and dried out. I ran seven miles last weekend and even though I got caught in the dark with prescription sunglasses (I couldn’t see with or without them), the experience was pretty enjoyable.
This weekend I’m gearing up for my longest long run. 26 miles. Most people training for a marathon only get up to 18 or 20. In fact, most running experts say that if you can run 18 miles, you can run 26. That seems like a bunch of malarkey to me, but perhaps once you hit a certain point mileage doesn’t make a difference; the impact on the body for those extra eight miles wouldn’t be worth it. But I’m doing the Galloway method. Half my time on my feet is walking, so 26 miles here I come.
In Jeff Galloway’s method, runners get up to the full race distance (and sometimes further) to build their confidence for the race. If you’ve run 26 miles before, you should be able to run 26.2. You should be able to know you can run 26.2. I like to have confidence. I like to know I can do something. I think it’s important to believe in myself. I’m still a little nervous for Saturday.
When I first talked to my coach about the 26-mile run, I remember her telling me that I could do 26 or 26.2. It’s up to me. Do I want to save 0.2 miles for the actual race? Do I just want to knock it out and see how it goes? I’m not sure yet. I think that will be a game time decision.
Regardless, Saturday is my test run for the race. Whatever I’m planning to do on race day, I need to implement on Saturday. That means my breakfast, what I wear, nutrition, hydration, where I put Body Glide — all of this — should mirror what I plan to do on race day. That’s a lot of pressure for one run. But perhaps having to do all of this on Saturday will make race day easier.
I already know some things will be the same. I know what I’ll have for breakfast (unfrosted cinnamon and brown sugar Pop Tart). I know what I’ll wear, down to the socks on my feet and the hairband in my hair. I’ve decided on my shoes. I know my fuel and nutrition.
So what am I nervous about?
Well, for one, I’m changing things up. Usually I swing by my house every hour to restock and refuel. But since I want to mirror race day, I want to carry as much with me as I can to sustain myself longer. So, I’m planning to stop by my house every two hours (with check-in texts sent to Kimberly every hour so she knows I’m okay). This itself isn’t nerve-wracking, but it is different from literally every other long run I’ve done. What if it fails? What if I run out of fuel or water or something? Well, I can always go back home, and I know that I’ll pass by a water station every two miles on the course. And since I’m practicing, I can work out the kinks in my plan.
And two, the time. I knew going into this marathon I would be racing against the clock to finish. During my last run, the 23-mile run, I ran a pace too slow for the race. If I would have continued at that pace, I would not have finished the race before the cutoff time. That freaked me out. Of course, there were several factors contributing to the fact of my pace, but I still worry. I don’t want to not finish the race. What if I worked this hard and I didn’t finish? That would suck.
I then think about the worst thing that could happen. I could not finish the race, but on that day, November 16, 2024, if I was too slow or whatever, I could still push myself to keep going until I reached 26.2 miles. No one is stopping me from using the sidewalks. And besides, the race is just a tiny, tiny, tiny part of the art of the marathon. I think the true marathon is what I’ve learned along the way.