Getting back into running.

I’ve been holding off on getting back into running for some time. Last October my girlfriend and I participated in the Lake Tahoe Marathon but couldn’t finish. I’ll talk more about that at a later date, but to give the skinny of it, it was the biggest failure of my life. Never in my life have I ever felt as helpless as I was at mile 17, making the decision to call it quits. But as I said, I’ll talk more about that at a later date. All you need to know is that I haven’t really been running like I was back when I was training for the marathon. I was good this past March and walked every morning, but now it’s June I don’t really have a concrete training plan or schedule. I started a 10K time improvement plan a couple weeks ago but that also fell through.

I recently read a couple books from Haruki Murakami whose writing style and storytelling I really enjoy. The last book I picked up was his memoir What I talk about when I talk about Running. In the start of his memoir, he talks about his running schedule that he’s been doing after not running for quite some time: 6 miles a day, 6 days a week. Murakami also mentions that it’s not even a strict 6 miles a day, but an average of 36 miles per week; if he ran 9 miles one day he would run 3 miles the next. I’m not that far into the book, but he talks about how running helps him think and has done wonders for his mind which is an aspect of running I do love. I think I forgot that after the marathon.

So I wanted a schedule like that, at the very least to have some level of mileage 6 days a week.

In the months since the marathon, my cardio was has become non-existent. It was a struggle now to even run a mile without stopping, so if I wanted to have some running schedule I couldn’t start out with 6 miles my first day back. Instead, I opted for a 5K, 3.12 miles. Honestly the sound of 5K a day made me decide on that because it sounded good. I also don’t know if I’m going to commit to the 5K for 6 days for the first week either. I don’t want to start too hard and injure myself prematurely, something that happened a couple weeks into marathon prep where my knee caused me to take a month off of running.

There was a long stint of 90 degree days here in Sacramento and that gave reason enough for me to not even attempt at running. Even as I was making my way through Murakami’s book and thinking about my weekly running schedule I didn’t think I was actually going to run this same day. But when I took out the trash, I noticed the sky was overcast and it even smelled like petrichor. And unlike the 90 degree days that have plagued the last week, the weather app said the peak today was no more than 80. Well, I guess that means I’m definitely going to run today.

The Run

The first mile was fine, I actively slowed myself down because although it feels good running at the start, you’ll wish you saved your energy in the later miles. My biggest goal was to run this first mile non-stop.

I wear a running watch and every mile it vibrates and dings to let you know your pace. While it’s great for tracking stats, my body treats the dings as a boxer would when he hears the bell. Instantly my body wants to stop running. I have to force myself to keep going, but only end up another quarter mile farther before I start walking. I’m doing my best to judge how I’m feeling but really I’m not feeling good, and unlike boxing there isn’t a second bell that lets me know when the next round is supposed to start. I walk for another quarter mile.

Right now I’m running alongside a canal with the road on my left and the water to my right where I see a shirtless man pass me. His stride is long and his arms relaxed. His back had no hint of fat on it and you could see his back muscles relax and contract as his arms sway back and forth. His form is perfect, almost machine-like. I watch him while I’m trudging along and I notice how far away he’s gotten in such a short amount of time. Before I know it he’s a spec of dust in the distance. It really goes to show that any pace no matter how fast is infinitely faster than walking. I see a light post coming up in a couple feet, let myself cross it, and I start running again.

After crossing a bridge I’m now on the other side of the river bank, staring at the same light post where I decided to start running. I feel both relief and accomplishment wash over me looking back at the ground I covered by not walking. I run until I finish the entirety of the second mile and I start walking again. My plan is to walk another 0.12 miles then I’ll run the last mile and be done with my 5k. At this point I’m gassed, but I had a trick up my sleeve. I was wearing a sleeveless workout shirt under a light long sleeve that I got from the last Run to Feed the Hungry. Up until this point, the wind helped cool the damp parts of my shirt, most namely my inner elbows, but now that I finished the second mile I could no longer feel any relief from the wind. So like Rock Lee taking off his leg weights vs Gaara. Like Goku shedding his undershirt, wristbands and boots vs Tien Shinhan, I took off my long sleeve and wrapped it around my waste.

There was no wind at first, then a gust permeated my sleeveless shirt through my right arm and chilled my whole sweat soaked back. Now I’m back in the boxing ring’s corner with ice on my back.

Can I have water? I ask the coach I made up for this analogy and of course He says we don’t have any, so I spit the saliva at the back of my throat onto the dirt.

Do you have one more round in you, he says.

Honestly, I don’t think I do, I huff.

Well… he shrugs. The round’s gonna come anyway.

My watch says 2.12. One more mile to go. I start running.

On the way back I see another runner. Or should I say a walker who started running when they saw me turn the corner. We were heading towards each other and bound to cross and I thought of the shirtless man who passed me while I was walking. I thought of how I felt when I saw him, relaxed shoulders, running like a machine. I thought of the courage the sight of him gave me and what if I could be that for this runner? I sway my arms ever so slightly more which translates into my strides. We pass each other, but this isn’t enough. Keep going, I say to myself. What if they look back and see you walking, how would that encourage them? So I don’t stop. I look down at my watch. 2.62. Half a mile to go. I ease up my pace as I approach a T-section and after confirming that the car to my right is going straight and not going left, I cross the street.

The last leg of this run was torture. Stop looking at your watch, I tell myself. Stop waiting for the bell. Even if the bell rings, that only means I reached the third mile. Just because the bell rings doesn’t mean the round is over.

The bell rings. I have 0.12 left. Push. Push. This time there’s no bell, but that doesn’t mean to keep staring at your watch. I’m soon at another cross walk, and in a moment of weakness I look down. 3.06. I look both ways and jog across. I wanted to sprint. I wanted this to end, but knew that it would end either way as long as I didn’t stop. I look at my watch. 3.11. I stare at it until it becomes 3.12 and I immediately stop.

My hands are on my knees and I’m huffing hard. Big huffs of air only interrupted by the occasional a painful dry swallow. To be frank, this run sucked, but I felt amazing that I’d finished. I’m looking forward to future runs to be honest because this was a great base line and I can only go up from here.