The Reprise

I have no idea where this will take me. But I have another marathon challenge before me, and I find myself compelled to chronicle it. At least today. Tomorrow may yet be another story....

I'd like to believe this will be a story of redemption, with a small "r." I'm too easily inclined to the running-as-metaphor post. But for now I'd like to start small. This marathon training begins with a relatively poor run at last week's Peachtree. Now, I love that event. Like so many of my fellow running chroniclers, I'm tempted to reference my 54,999 closest running friends with whom I shared the pavement on Friday, but I will hold back. Let's just say it's typically my favorite running day in the ATL. And the company helps make the experience.

This 4th dawned warm and humid after a nearly perfect early summer week. By the time group 1B had crept to the line -- actually, crept is the wrong word; more like surged and paused, surged and paused -- sweat was pouring off me. Uh oh. This can't be good. When our surge hit the line, I felt strong. It had been a good few weeks of training. There had been a few longer runs and some very good speed work. Long story short: I flamed out somewhere near Peachtree Battle. My very own Pentecost moment (yes, complete with flames dancing on my running cap) right there in the midst of the PRR. It was all I could do to keep my thermostat in check as I reeled into Midtown. I finished more than four minutes slower than last year on a day when so many of my running compadres set PRs. Hmph. Not that I'm competitive or anything.

Hell of a way to initiate my latest round of marathon training. You see, the PRR fell right in the middle of week 1 of the FIRST program's training for the Chicago Marathon, this year's fall marathon for me. I haven't been running a lot of miles, but I've been running. And I fully expected to run stronger. Crushed is probably too strong a word. But as I ambled back to ASC to scoot home, I was in a pretty foul mood. I've had it in my head for awhile now that I would like to push the four-hour mark for the marathon. How am I going to do that if I can't run a sub-55 minute 10K? (The short answer is that I won't....) So Friday I wallowed in my disappointment. I mean full-on, inconsolable, don't want to hear about your stinkin' PR wallow.

By Saturday morning, I was over it (or, perhaps more aptly, myself). I got up early, put on the running togs, mounted the scooter, and headed to Midtown for a pre-MR run. I got in an easy four miles solo and then took a turn around Piedmont Park with A-SP for another four plus. And it felt GREAT. I took off Sunday and then hit the ERivers track for speed work (4x800 @ 7:52, 8:03, 8:06, and 7:51 paces; all right on the mark). And THAT felt GREAT. Today I put in a good half hour on the bike. And that, too, felt GREAT.

Tomorrow may be another story.... Seven miles with five miles at tempo pace lay ahead. I'm looking forward to it in a way I couldn't have expected as recently as last Friday. This is good.