Tag Archives: Long runs

My friend Sarah, a veteran of several (fast) marathons, gave me this advice about long runs while we were training for the Nashville Country Music Marathon: “The point is just to get through them. You don’t have to feel good. You just have to convince your body that you can go a little farther each week.”

I repeated this advice to myself several times yesterday, during my last long run before the half marathon. It was an 11-miler, not one of the 20-milers required for a full marathon, but it encompassed all the same ups and downs, sense of motion and serendipitous encounters that make long runs special.

I ran somewhere between 10 and 11 miles of the race course, which starts at RFK Stadium in downtown DC. The route goes by the Capitol, the Washington Monument and the White House, and between the pretty sights and the warm, fuzzy feeling I got from appreciating my new home town, I barely even noticed the miles slipping by. I passed other runners who were also clearly following the course. I spotted forsythia and cherry blossoms blooming for the first time this spring. Life was good.

Then, I hit mile five. Within about two minutes, the following happened: Steve’s iPod died; I realized I’d missed a turn on the race course, and took myself farther out of the way to make it up; and I realized that this course includes some hills that will eat your quads alive.

I slogged through the next mile, which was one, big, long, nasty uphill. It was so hard, I found myself adjusting my race goals in my head, and telling myself that there’s no shame in walking. And I would have walked right then, except I had reached some neighborhoods that weren’t the worst in DC, but that also weren’t the best. Is there any better motivation to keep going than to get away from the guy who’s yelling, “Hello, mommy,” which you can hear loud and clear since your iPod died?

I had also realized I had to find a restroom, and quick. I was OK until the horribly suggestive “P Street,” at which point the situation became really urgent. I dashed into a sketchy-looking 7-11 and asked, breathlessly, if they had a restroom.

Here’s where the run took a turn for the better. The clerk looked at my sweaty, dejected face and smiled.

“Sure, baby. It’s not open to the public, but you look like you need it,” she said, and pointed me down a dim stairwell, to a bathroom that doubled as a utility closet.

I headed out again renewed, and determined to make the last three miles of the run my fastest. The uphill was over, and the gentle downhill that came next reminded me that I’ve trained on hills, and that they’re supposed to be hard. I had a slight scare when I thought I’d missed another turn. But then, the most amazing thing happened.

A van pulled up beside me, and three dudes got out, holding stacks of posters. They started affixing them to fences and lightposts. They read: “National Marathon Race Course. Special Event Notice.” For the next three miles, I roughly kept pace with the van. It was like they were tough-guy flower girls at a running-themed wedding, decorating the aisle with these magical posters confirming I was headed in the right direction.

After the first few stops, one guy stopped and said: “Damn, girl! You’re keeping pace with us!” I smiled. Hey, it’s better than, “Hello mommy!”

I figure I ran almost 11 miles, and certainly not less than 10.5 miles. It took me an hour and 32 minutes — way faster than my usual long-run pace, however you slice it. And you know how sometimes, you finish a long run and realize you could have gone longer or harder? When I got done yesterday, I felt like my legs were going to fall off. It was awesome.

Next up: taper week, baby! Let the slackerdom and sloth commence!

When I set out to do my first half-marathon a couple years ago, I was surprised to see how similar the beginner training schedule was to my happy-go-lucky, goal-less running log. For the most part, it consisted of runs in the 3-ish mile range, with a couple days of speedwork thrown in.

The exception was the long run, that once-weekly push to make your body go longer than it’s gone before to trick it into thinking it can go the distance on race day. At the time, each week’s long run was a mile longer than I’d ever run before — first eight, then nine, then the astonishing 10 miles. I honored each one as an event rather than just a workout, taking hours to plan routes, print maps and write out directions (necessary steps, given my propensity for lost-ness).

I’ve since done training runs twice that long, and have gotten to the point that even a 10-mile run, the longest my half-marathon training schedule calls for, is something I can squeeze in before breakfast. But I still honor the long run as the most important part of training for any distance race. In my opinion, they’re sort of the whole reason training for a distance event is special (how many 3-mile loops around your neighborhood have you described as life-changing?).

This past weekend, I cobbled together a long run from two separate Pacers routes, the Alaska loop and the out-and-back to East West Highway, and added a mile or so on 16th Street. I set out first thing on Saturday morning, and felt energized and strong from the start. I have no idea what pace I was running. I only know that I finished what I thought would be a 10-mile loop about 20 minutes faster than I expected to. It was a welcome surprise, given that my last 8-miler made me want to suit this sport and take up bowling, or maybe chess.

I have yet to encounter a runner who’s trained for a marathon who hasn’t had some sort of memorable encounter on a long run. One friend got a ride home from a fire truck when her long run got rained out. Another found got directions and a free Gatorade from a gas station convenience store. Yet another accidentally dropped in on a road race, and enjoyed water stops and cheering crowds for a few of his 20 miles.

I had my first such encounter of this training cycle on this week’s run, when I felt a sudden and urgent need for a restroom at about the farthest point from home I could be. I hadn’t planned on a detour for this purpose, so I took my chances at a large, modern-looking church in an otherwise residential neighborhood. The doors were locked. Blast! I had almost walked away when a member of the leaning crew opened the door to let me in. I would have hugged her if I wasn’t in such a rush to get to the ladies’ room. It was just a small encounter, but the sort of thing that makes the long run feel less like a workout and more like a journey.

Have a good long-run story? Share it by posting a comment below.

Here is a thing about me: I am lost more often than not.

The phrase “couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag” could have been invented for me. Except the paper bag is unnecessary: A good pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey spin, and I have completely lost my bearings.

This became important yesterday, on what I never intended to be a long run.

I was trying out a route around the Mormon Temple in Kensington suggested by Montgomery County Road Runners Club Coach Mike Broderick. Check out an extended version of the run here. The portion of the route I did starts at Meadowbrook Stables in Rock Creek Regional Park, follows Rock Creek Trail for about two miles, then spits runners out at the intersection of Beach Drive and Stoneybrook Drive, where Stoneybrook Drive provides a killer hill workout before taking runners back to the stables on Rock Creek Trail.

This runner decided to go the other way on Rock Creek Trail instead.

Let me be clear here: This was in no way a confusing route. There are only two ways to go on the trail after the hill loop, and while the trail is not clearly marked, it IS pretty obvious that you go back the way you came. I should have known: I had to forge a washed-out section of the trail with a makeshift bridge of two long sticks, which I definitely did not have to do on the way out. But as previously discussed, I have good reason not to trust my directional instincts.

Plus, I kept recognizing things. I’d rejoice when I passed “my” meadow, “my” playground, “my” bridge. Problem is, Rock Creek Trail kind of looks alike in both directions. Until you get up to Rockville Pike, that is (those of you in the Washington area can confirm that this is really, really far from Meadowbrook Stables in Chevy Chase).

When I finally saw another human walking on the trail, I stopped her and her miniature Schnauzer.Panting and desperate, I asked her if I was heading the right way to get back to the Meadowbrook Stables. She surveyed the sweaty-mud spattered runner in front of her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, wincing. “You’re really, really far away.”

I whimpered to myself as I turned around, knowing I had added at least three or four miles to my run at a time when I am trying hard not to overtrain. I tried yoga-like deep-breathing and mantras, which are helpful when you are calm already, but not so helpful in times of crisis.

And this was a crisis. So I turned to old-school gangster rap. Biggie, Public Enemy and Dr. Dre carried me back home. And my iPod, which had been running on reserve battery power since mile 2, miraculously kept on going.

I got back to Meadowbrook Stables an hour and 40 minutes after I left – at least 10 miles, by my estimate. This was my longest since before I injured my hip. It also happens to be the longest run on my beginner half-marathon training schedule, so I guess it’s nice to know I’m ahead of the training game.

And the route really is awesome. Rock Creek Trail winds through playgrounds, meadows and dense thickets of mature trees, providing great views of the creek along the way. Even the starting point is pretty — when I got back to the quaint, lovely stables, with the horses milling about and neighing, it almost made me forget how much of an, ahem, donkey I felt like.

Need motivation for a tough workout? Try the gangsta-rap playlist that fueled my extended run:
Til I Collapse – Eminem
Scenario – Tribe Called Quest
M-E-T-H-O-D Man – Wu Tang Clan
You Can Do it – Ice Cube
Sure Shot – Beastie Boys
The Watcher – Dr. Dre
What’s the Difference – Dr. Dre
Fight the Power – Public Enemy
Fugeela – The Fugees
Kick in the Door – The Notorious B.I.G.