Heeeere's Jackie.

In honor of Halloween and the two year anniversary of the blog, I am resurrecting my writing career (let's use "career" loosely, here, folks). It may be pointless. It may not be the least bit interesting. It may be simply my own meandering thoughts. But, to be honest, that's all it's ever been so deal with it. Currently, the only thing that occupies my time is running. Also, my new house and my awesome nephew. I'm essentially the most basic almost 30-something you've ever met and this is my blog about it. So if you're not interested in hearing about my running revelations and my precious nugget's squishy cheeks, you might not want to stop by for a while. But! If you like a good turn of phrase and goofy one-liners, welcome, come by anytime!

What do you think about when you’re running? Nothing…. And also everything.

I kicked off a ten-week training program last week. I decided not long ago that I was going to run a full marathon once I got my half marathon time down to under two hours. My previous two times being 2:11 and 2:06, this shouldn’t be a difficult task. My annual half isn’t for another six months, though, and I see no reason to put off achieving my goal. I certainly see no reason to have a six-month training program to shave six minutes off my time. As such, I’m starting now with my projected “Race Day” being Christmas morning.

There are no races on Christmas Day. Anywhere.

Still, though, I’m going to wake up and take myself out on a happy little 13.1 miler after Santa visits and before cinnamon rolls, lasagna, antipasto, and cannolis. Maybe Santa will bring me some new running capris?

In addition to achieving my sub-2 goal, I want to see if I can adhere to a training schedule. Generally, training programs will require intervals or hill workouts. They may emphasize a certain pace for a training run; “slow run,” “tempo run,” “race pace.” One, in particular, that I love (in the not-love, ridiculous way) is Hal Higdon’s “5 x 400 5-K pace.” This means I should run 400 yards, five times at a 5-K pace, yes? I suppose I would determine my 5-K pace by dividing my desired half marathon pace by the miles in a half marathon and then multiplying that by 5K? So, an hour and 59 minutes by 13.1 miles times 3.15? So…. I want to run at a 9.08 mile pace? How exactly do I determine in such a short distance if I’m traveling at a 9 minute pace? I’ve already done far more math than pleases me in a short period of time. So, no, Hal Higdon, I will not be doing your Day 3 400 yard – hold on, wait, does it mean meters? See! I don’t even know. All I want to do is run, man. As such, I tend to ignore the specifications of random programs I find online and focus solely on the miles.

For this new goal, though, I wanted to attempt a more rigid – but not Higdid (see, that’s a blend of rigid and Higdon) approach. I searched the interwebs for a more relaxed training schedule that would still offer a structured approach to improving my time. It was quite strenuous. I typed, “sub 2:00 half marathon training” and the first link was a map from Runners' World with “easy runs,” “race pace,” and “tempo run”, which include a one to two mile warm-up. Nothing fancy. No scary words like “fartlek.” Just distance with a recommended pace.

I can do that.

Last Monday, I set out on a five mile run; three miles of which were to be run at a 9:09 pace. I decided to run the first, third and fifth miles at the 9-minute pace. I had my doubts about my ability to run one mile, let alone three, at a nine mile pace based on my lack of practice from these last few months, but I want to take this training seriously and I want to prove to myself that I am capable of improving my time so I set out with a determined mind. I did great.

I was checking my Garmin watch and evaluating my speed. A ten minute mile is going to be about a minute per tenth of a mile, so a nine should be somewhere just under that. I knew I had it down.

Tuesday, I set out for what the training schedule called an “easy run.” It was simply four miles at a 10:30 pace. Ouch. Don’t get me wrong, I can run a slothenly 11:40 pace on mile 7 after a pretty strenuous hill but, ultimately, I find limiting myself to a 10:30 pace to be a bit difficult. Again, though, I want to take this training seriously. Also, I see value in learning the speed of my strides. Also, the value of slowing myself down – both, physically and in life. Don’t we all just need to learn to slow down, though? I’m addicted to my Garmin watch and I monitor nearly every tenth of a mile – mostly as a distraction for my mind – and I’ve noticed this nervous habit has helped me better guess where I’m at, pace-wise, during a run.

Whether it was pushing for three 9-minute miles in the midst of five or reining myself in on four 10:30-minute miles, I’ve found these last two runs wildly fulfilling. Today, in particular, I set out needing to breath. Needing to think. To suss things out, if you will. To relax. To get out and just be me for (according to the training schedule) 42 minutes.

Today, I programmed my iPod with a couple of my new favorite pop and rock favorites (if you’re not in love with Tove Lo, you’re missing out on Amazing) and chapter two of the Hunger Games book one. I hit the pavement, determined to suss things out and keep myself slow and relaxed. People ask, “What do you think about when you run?” My response: “nothing… and also everything.” Stride after stride, I kept meaning to think about the bills I have to get paid this week and did I make enough last week to cover everything. I kept meaning to think about the last boy that broke my heart and if I wanted to see him when he comes through town. I kept meaning to think about the next boy who’ll break my heart and if I want to let him. I wanted to think about what color to paint the spare bedroom, what treats and gifts I’d send my friend in Afghanistan for his next care package, what would I buy my sister for Christmas – she’s so tricky. I had intended to finish my run with life sorted out.

But then, foot strike after foot strike, I was looking at my Garmin. I was going too fast. I needed to slow down. I was listening to the Hunger Games. Being introduced to Peeta Mellark for the first time. And maybe falling for him a little (don't tell Gale). I was appreciating the scenery and my landmarks. And I was studying my breath. I was done with my run.

I have an olive or hunter green shade picked out for the spare room, though from a Feng Shui standpoint I’m not sure it’s creatively a good choice. The Afghanistan care package will surely pack itself but I should get a move on that. And I’ll probably buy my sister a sweater if these workouts don’t yield a more awesome idea – deal with it, Sister, you’re tricky! I am no closer to solving the mysteries of life, though.

I am, however, more confident that I can dominate this training schedule. I’m certain that I am mentally and physically strong enough to fulfill the requirements of each run: fast, slow or tempo. I know what a 9, 10 and 10:30 pace feels like. I suspect I will be running a full marathon in six months and not just a half. I enjoy my runs.

I got in the car at the end of the workout and started driving home. Suddenly, all my woes started to sort of wave at me from a distance – as though across a body of water. They were flailing their arms, shouting “hey! Hey, we’re still here!!” I realized I hadn’t sorted out, let alone thought, about a single one of my silly problems. It was as though I’d left them at the starting line and put four long and slow miles between them and me. As I made my way home, I realized I didn’t really care about any of those silly problems. They would get sorted out. They would sort themselves out. Or I would sort them out. After all, I’m a mentally and physically strong person. What is there that I can’t do?