A Theory, That is to Say, Which is Mine.

This is another entry about running.  You will be tempted to skip it, as most people probably find reading about running boring.  However, this is building up to some other more interesting commentary (in theory).  It takes time to develop these things.

 Running, like any sport or ambitious endeavor, involves a great deal of mental gymnastics to keep at it.  Perhaps you are wondering what those gymnastics feel like while training for a marathon.

Last week's long run was 7 miles, and went relatively smoothly.  This week called for another long run of 7 miles. I could tell before starting that it would be difficult.  Before any run, there is usually a feeling of either "this is going to feel o.k.", or "I don't feel like doing this at all".  It's the result of the current level of physical energy and your mental state.  Saturday, both areas were working against me. And it was hot.  But if the plan is to succeed, there is no choice to skip a run because you simply don't feel like it.

So:
Mile one... I felt like crap.
Mile two... Normally by this time, your body settles into a comfortable pace, any stiffness is gone, and it's starts to feel good.  Instead... I felt like crap.
Miles three through five... Crap.
Miles six and seven... As you add mileage to the long run, the last couple of miles are obviously more difficult.  Your legs begin to ache some - aches that normally don't come until the next day or two after a shorter run.  This started to occur, but also just plain exhaustion set in - not in the lungs (I rarely feel out of breath) - but an exhaustion in the legs.  Your stride shortens, and you begin to shuffle.  At the end of mile five, I had concerns that I'd end up walking at the end.  So I slowed down some to avoid that event.

I have a theory.  My theory that I have, that is to say, which is mine, ... is mine.*  Here it is:  The level of difficulty when you add miles to the long run increases exponentially in the last couple of added miles.  In other words, running 7 miles does not just require an extra mile of energy compared to running 6 miles.  Rather, the curve goes straight up.  So, in my estimation, it takes about twice the energy and effort to run 7 miles as it does to run 6.  Of course, as you continue to add miles to the long run, the effort to run 6 miles vs. 7 miles levels off.  It's very complicated, isn't it?

Here's a chart for my theory.  I'm a visual sort of person.

The whole premise in training is to push the blue line of the graph farther and farther to the right.  It retains its shape, but just shifts.  That is the theory that I have, and which is mine, and what it is, too.*

Back to Saturday.  I finished the run, not thoroughly bushed, but fatigued.  Not a pleasant run.  It reminds me of how far I have yet to go.

That's what it feels like.  Now, keep in mind that the idea is to progress to long runs of 8 miles, 9 miles, 10 miles, 12 miles, 14 miles, 16 miles, and 20 miles.

The whole point is this.  It's a little like the Christian Life.  But it isn't anything like the Christian Life.  More on that theory, which is mine, later.

*These are quotes from a Monty Python skit aired on Monty Python's Flying Circus.  The skit can be viewed here. This was a skit my friend Dave Brown used to love to repeat.  I met Dave after basic training in the Army, and we were assigned to Fort Hood, TX, where we grew to be better friends.  I don't know where Dave is now.