resuming trajectory

Every training cycle I have ever embarked on eventually hits a patch of doldrums, where the estimated mileage I had scrawled out so nonchalantly in the beginning looms large, and my spirit for hitting those arbitrary numbers flickers. This is always the period to revise the end-target down to something reasonable--rather like with any project, you begin with grand hopes, but by half-way you can see the finish line well enough to adjust your expectations. For example, I had hopes of getting at least 2-3 good medium distance (aka 8-10 mile) runs in during each week. Instead it's been more like 1. It's easy to imagine racking up those runs in early October, when the trails are still open and the weather good. But in January my perspective changes. Part of it is needing to nail those 5am starts. "Rush hour" (if it can be plausibly called that), starts here at around 6am, so if I start an 8 mile run at 5:30 I'm going to be exposed at least to the rising edge of it. And morning commuters in the middle of winter are no joke. There's something about the way they drive--about the way they hug the shoulders, accelerate out of their right turns (usually while looking left for oncoming traffic), and tailgate their fellow-drivers that screams that they have other things to worry about than some runner by the side of the road. They've got kids to drop off, or a 7am meeting with a client, or a boss who's going to look over and see an empty seat and tut disapprovingly.

I have a somewhat antagonistic relationship with these people. I imagine them seeing me, and--if they think of me at all, which is not terribly likely, for all my visibility gear--thinking, why is that wacko running in the dark, in the middle of winter? Doesn't he know it's 20 degrees out? Go get a job and support a family like a responsible adult, ya hippy!

To which I answer, maybe if you stepped out of that car and felt the cold wind in your face you wouldn't need that coffee. Maybe if you stopped and turned your lights off and looked at Orion gleaming down at you, or turned your head and saw the snow-fields effulgent under the light of the moon, you wouldn't feel so depressed about where you're going this morning, wage slave!

Things usually deteriorate from there.

That was a long-winded way of saying that I don't always have the gumption to spar with traffic in the morning, or get up so early that I don't have to. On the bright side though, my long runs are progressing nicely. Two weeks ago I was supposed to run 22. I ran only 20.5 (albeit over a rather hilly route). Last week I got up early to see the snow and hear the plows grinding by, and found I didn't have it in me. I ended up cross-country skiing for an hour instead. But this weekend I was really looking forward to my long run. I got up early and went for a 3-part run, the first two legs with different GNRC-ers, the third solo. Until I actually looked at my watch to confirm I had hit mile 18, I didn't feel tired at all. (Indeed I half-way suspect that my suddenly heavy legs were a psychological reaction to knowing how far I had actually gone). In any event I toughed out to mile 23, pushing out my d.PR by another 2.5 miles.

25 miles next week? I think so!