CM Diary - April 11, 2007

Entry 1: April 11, 2007

I have a piece of running gear that likes to misbehave. Just when I think I have put my running gloves in the drawer for a long summer hibernation, they crawl out of bed and find me. The most recent example, Easter weekend that was unseasonably cold in Fort Wayne, Indiana with a half inch of snow. (I'll let Al Gore explain why we are had a green Christmas and a white Easter.)

The unpredictability of the weather can be frustrating. No one can predict what we will face on October 7. A light breeze can be funneled into hurricane-force winds by the skyscrapers or blocked from getting to street level so we all bake on an asphalt frying pan (Editor note on October 16 - who would have thought). The philosophy I've adopted in my short 4-month running career is to look at each day of training as a mini "race" to achieve a mini "victory" in the quest for the ultimate victory on race day. The day's opponent may be bad weather, a lack of motivation, a busy schedule, etc. Victories can be noble like the extra mile I conquer in long run or the new PR I set. Or they may be subtler, like lacing up my shoes when I would rather stay in bed or not running when nice weather beckons me outside on days my body needs to rest.

The unpredictability of the weather can also be motivating and educational. It was 5F Super Bowl Sunday in Fort Wayne with a -20F wind chill. The wind, cold and snow-packed roads were my obvious enemies that day. I triple-layered my legs and torso, double-layered my head and feet, put duct tape over the mesh uppers on my shoes to keep them warm and dry and put on my winter training companion - my running gloves - determined to run as much of the 11-mile long run as I had planned. The weather won the battle that day as my layering worked but my gloves let me down. After 5 miles, I returned home with near-frostbit hands. But I was satisfied. I learned the limits of my running apparel, that running on snow-packed roads slows me down by 1:30 per mile, but more importantly I learned the magnitude of my desire and resolve.

There's something peaceful about running in falling snow - the quiet and the beauty. But the Easter snow taught me a couple of other valuable lessons. On Saturday mornings I join a bunch of other runners in Fort Wayne for a group run. To get in the number of miles I planned at the slower pace that I run, I arrived 45 minutes early. I pulled into the parking lot and I saw two cars and two sets of footprints in the snow heading down the trail. I recognized them as belonging to Amy and Art, two fellow-runners that emailed the group the day before saying they needed to start really early. As I ran in solitude between their footprints (and later as my footprints joined the rest of the group's), this newbie athlete realized the importance of running as part of a team. We work toward a common goal, encouraging and motivating each other along the way.

As I ran back to my car, the snow allowed me to review my running form. I compared my novice footprints to Amy and Art's more-experienced footprints. Theirs were perfectly spaced (with a longer stride-length that matched their faster pace) and perfectly formed as if God Himself took their shoes and made the impressions. Mine were uneven, my right foot turned slightly out and the obvious swipe of a toe scrape next to nearly every opposite foot's print. This was discouraging as I thought I was doing better with picking up my feet, but snow prints don't lie. But that's a victory to win in future training "races".

In the next 6 months before the Marathon there are two things we can all count on no matter where we live - our share of less than ideal weather and the learning opportunities those bad days afford.

One step at a time,
Dave