Why am I still sitting here in my running kit, at 9:33 in the morning? Why, when my shoes are on and my watch is set to go, am I still sitting at my desk, pretending to work?
Simple answer: I have a training plan. It’s that damn marathon.
Actually, it’s a little less simple. Because I am a girl, I suspect. I have four training plans. One 20-week plan (missed the boat on that, should have started four weeks ago), two 16-week plans (one based on mileage, and the other on time on the road – so obviously I can’t decide on the better of the two), and one 12-week plan (which means I still have four weeks of freedom!).
In my head, I had kind of committed to the time-based plan, which started on Monday. But because I had a long run on Sunday, I decided to rest on Monday. And I was supposed to run 45 minutes on Monday. So then I ran on 45 minutes on Tuesday. And now I’m supposed to be doing 60 minutes of fartlek today, and resting tomorrow, but then The Cycling Husband (who has decided to run the marathon with me – more about that later!) might be able to get on the road with me tomorrow, which is supposed to be a rest day, so I’m thinking maybe I should rest today and run tomorrow instead. But then what about the fartlek?
Can you tell I’ve had two cups of coffee? So I might be waiting for the shakes to subside, and the sun to really come out, before I get out there. Because I’m still in my kit, so you know I may as well run….
And the reality is that I do need to run, because, yes, it is officially 16 weeks till we run 42km. Which is far. And there is no backing out now, because in my true-to-form Go Big or Go Home fashion, I have not only signed up for any old marathon, I have signed up for the New York Marathon.
*Insert silent scream of excitement here*
Seriously. It’s a very OTT birthday gift from The Cycling Husband. And I’m so excited I could burst. It was decided on the spur of the moment, after only two glasses of wine. So you know it’s serious. We are going with friends (you might remember P, he of the Shut Up and Run method of running), the visas have been approved, the flights have been booked, the entries secured and the deposits paid. So now all we need to do is make sure we don’t travel half way across the world only to flake and die after the first 10km!
At first, The Cycling Husband declined the offer to run, as he has a rather large cycling event that he is training for in October. Also, I think the last time he went for a run was over a year ago, and he moaned quite a lot about his delicate cycling knees. But, as the excitement levels rose, he discovered that he had a serious case of FOMO – and so he has signed up too.
(Actually, we suspect that he has decided to run in order to buy running stuff. The Cycling Husband loves stuff, and he has all the cycling stuff anyone could possibly need. The prospect of taking up running means the prospect of buying running stuff – in particular, shoes and a watch, his favourite kind of stuff.)
But back to the topic at hand. Those training schedules.
See, The Cycling Husband was up at 4am, running on the treadmill. Because you know he has a training schedule, which he sticks to like glue.
I too was up at 4am, because that treadmill ain’t exactly quiet! But unlike said Husband, I wasn’t running. Instead, my mind was running through all the pros and cons of each training schedule. And, if I’m to be honest, how to stick with the pros and avoid the cons!
Because how strict does one have to be with a training schedule? Surely if I stick to the long runs on the weekend, and add in a fartlek session every now and then, and make sure I run that Horrible Hill Home, I will be ok? Do I have to cross train? Do I have to run five days a week, every week, for the next 16 weeks?
And now, it’s 10:20am. And I am still in my running kit, and I am still undecided.
In my next life, I am going to be just like the Cycling Husband, who makes a decision to run, and just runs. Or just like P, who tells me that every time he thinks “Maybe I should go for a run?”, he puts on his shoes and goes for a run.
No wonder Running Like a Girl is more exhausting than Running Like a Boy. I’m shattered from running around in my own head, before I even start running around on the road!
PS. After all that, I did end up going for a run. And I decided to give fartlek a go. WTF???? What masochist made up that training strategy and decided to suck all the fun out of running?? Probably some cyclist, if you ask me. I’m going to lie down and die somewhere now.