The loneliness of a long distance hasher

Quantum mileage

So...I ran 18.5 miles this morning, in perfect weather, spot on my correct pace for long runs and with the last 4 miles at what felt like race pace.  Thanks to liberal doses of vitamin I and some genius stretching advice from Gosia, even my comedy exploding pelvis seemed content.

So I am happy, right?

Am I b*ggery.

Everyone knows that marathons are as much about the mind as the body.  What I tend to forget is that truism is almost irrelevant by the time you get to the start line, but massively significant over the last 6 weeks of training or 'zone of fretfulness' as I think I shall now christen it.

It's becoming a familiar pattern to me after a few marathons.  If things are going normally, you enter the zone in a state of crushing over confidence - in my case, seriously contemplating following the 3.30 pace group, 'just to see what might happen'.  Then you look at the calendar and realise you only have 4 weeks to go until taper and suddenly every run becomes Deeply Significant: miss a mile, or (God forbid) an outing and you are doomed and will spend the whole of your marathon cleaning up after the runners dressed as Pot Noodles.

Usually at this point you pick up a minor niggle or your life becomes hectic and you are forced to miss not one but several outings.  So now you exist in an interesting state of duality: on the one hand you have a good outing and everything is magnificent and you are convincing yourself you should invest in a special racing vest.  On the other hand, a sneaky little voice is saying: 'but you didn't run a yard last week while you sorted out your hip...and you haven't actually done a proper, honest-to-God, non stop 20 miler yet this time round...and woman you're getting old.'

Of course, until I open the box of marathon day itself I can't know which voice is right.  Am I a wave, or am I a particle? And which is quicker?

More importantly, which would look better in that racing vest?

posted by Hermione @ 8:09 PM