Hi, it’s me. I am going to write about marathon training now. It’s strange to be writing about marathon training again. While I’m at it, it’s strange to be writing again.
I’ve had a very quiet few months in terms of my online output. I blame everything from a renewed focus on my photography career, more time devoted to running again, a general malaise and uncertainty about life, direction, and what the hell I’m doing with my remaining time on Earth – the usual.
But I am finding that not writing is causing a glut of tangled cobwebs to form inside my little brain, not even something running is able to fix, so this seemed like a good time to get back into it.
As the title of this post would suggest, I’ve signed up to run the 2021 NYC Marathon, something I did not foresee happening this year, but I got myself a bib so I’m going to do this thing. Not sure how well I will do this thing, but the thing will be done to the best of my ability, such that it is.
I want to approach these weekly summaries a little differently than before, which is not to go into a ton of detail about my specific training plan – it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t really help anyone, and it’s a lot of numbers to type. I’ll mention my training generally, just maybe not list every workout in detail.
Instead, I’ll summarize each week and use this space to write stories about my dad, as I plan to run this marathon in his memory. I’m not raising money or asking for donations to be made in his name or anything, although you are always free to do that.
I just want to remember, and remind people of, him more often.
This week’s training
I’m not exactly where I’d like to be for week one of marathon training – my personalized plan, courtesy of my awesome running club the New York Harriers, has me running a 14-mile long run this week. I haven’t run farther than 10 miles in a long time, and the last time I got anywhere near 10 (about 5 weeks ago), my right ankle/foot started aching for seemingly no reason and derailed me for a couple of weeks.
I’m modifying the plan as I go to meet me where I am, so that meant this first week was four days of running: one easy 3-miler, a day of speed work, a day of tempo, and an 8-mile long run up to the Little Red Lighthouse and back. Easy stuff with a few faster paces thrown in. Nothing crazy. My foot is feeling better each day I run to the point where I barely notice it now.
I also included two upper body strength training workouts and some lower body stuff: single leg moves, balance board work, ankle strengthening, foam rolling. I’m not supposed to be doing much strength training during marathon training, but I have cut down my weekly upper body workouts from three to two, at least.
The great outdoors
I credit both of my parents with teaching me about being active, which eventually led to my interest in running at a young age. My mom was more of the workout fiend – although never a runner – constantly trying out new fitness trends: Jane Fonda tapes, the ThighMaster® (apparently still going strong), ab rollers, step aerobics, barbells, free weights, ankle weights, yoga balls, and a stationary bike.
My dad was concerned with health but less into organized exercise, although I do remember him having a silver 10-speed bicycle when I was a kid. But he liked to be active. I associate outdoor activities with him: going to the beach, going camping, going pumpkin picking, seeing baseball games – we really only stayed home if it was raining, and then we’d rent movies from Blockbuster we’d already seen dozens of times before, likely starring Bette Midler or John Candy.
My earliest memories of being athletic were with my dad. One of our favorite pastimes was to go to a nearby sports field behind the local high school and try to catch a large rubber ball he would kick up into the air. He would shout “Ball!” and then kick it as high as he could, as my sisters and I fought to be the first to catch it. I probably beat them out more often than not, mostly due to the fact that I was the tallest.
He also taught me how to ride a bike. I was determined to learn how to ride without training wheels, so I would eat my dinner as fast as I could just to get outside with him afterwards, my dad holding the back of my flowered banana seat, me wanting so badly to ride on my own while still loving the feeling that he was there to catch me if I fell.
I don’t remember him ever complaining about having to do this or feeling like he was too busy. He always made time. I think he enjoyed it, too. This might sound silly, but I think he genuinely loved being a dad.