FTG Life in a Run
From Fall Training Group (FTG) participant Pam Dolan. FTG is the virtual running program we are hosting this fall.
It’s Tuesday morning, late-October, and I’m starting the tempo run my coach Heidi scheduled for today. After a long warmup, the plan is to run 3 minutes at tempo pace, 90 seconds at 5K pace, 30 seconds at mile pace, then 3 minutes recovery: all of that 4 times through. It’s still dark and I’m running in a mostly deserted beach village on Long Island Sound, a conveniently flat 3 mile loop perfect for off season workouts. The purpose of this run, because I am learning that runs like this should always have a clear directive, is to sharpen my legs between a high mileage week last week and a half marathon race next week, and to test my cranky hamstrings on a flat course. The weather is unseasonably muggy, and rain is in the offing.
As I drift around the warmup loop, I think about my six teammates scattered around the country, all of whom will do this workout or a similar workout either today or tomorrow. We had a group meeting last night, as we do every other Tuesday, and I feel particularly close to them right now. I would never have predicted that these Zoom meetings with people I’d never met before would grow on me like this. I mean, I’m not a joiner. I always run alone and consider it a privilege, a rare cathedral of quiet in long days populated by family and students. But my teammates have gotten in, these strong men and women I never realized I needed. I may be projecting here, but it seems like we are kindred spirits: the type of people who go to parties and with laser focus find the one or two other runners in the room, with whom we then proceed to spend the entire evening huddled in a corner talking exclusively about running. Our team has spent a lot of time over the past couple of months sharing stories about why we run, a question I have been obsessed with for years. We all agree that running keeps us sane. Listening to my teammates’ thoughtful and generous anecdotes from their own lives has normalized this “why” question for me and allowed me to access a new layer of honesty. I feel like I have uncorked a cascade of truths about myself that I am finally ready to face. Suffice it to say, I am taking more rest days than I ever have before, and I actually feel proud of that.
I turn the final corner of my warmup lap, and my brain flips back to the task at hand. The sun has started to rise, but it is now raining quite hard. I snap off my headlamp and my vision improves without the raindrops reflecting back in my eyes. I pick up the pace. Heidi and I have talked in our individual coaching sessions about the importance of running by feel. My job during this first 3-minute interval is to run comfortably fast, being sure to leave more in the tank for the faster efforts coming up. I am not supposed to look at my watch, and I don’t, but it’s tempting. Instead I focus on form, another frequent topic of discussion. I try to stack my shoulders over my hips over my ankles, tuck my pelvis, relax my neck and face. It’s a lot to keep track of, but I feel poppy and fresh, so the three minutes fly by. I pull my shoulder blades together, try to stand straighter, and pick up to 5K pace for 90 seconds. At this faster clip I add raising my knees and lifting my heels toward my butt to my list of things to be aware of. I never used to think about any of this; I had no idea what I was missing. I see the abandoned tennis courts ahead and tell myself to maintain pace until I get there. Magically my watch beeps just as I do. Now it’s 30 seconds all out, straight into a driving headwind and rain. Recruit the glutes and here we go! I stop thinking, practically stop breathing, and run balls-to-the-wall for the stop sign at the beach parking lot.
Wow! This is fun. Having a weekly schedule with fresh workouts has been a game changer for my running. The three minute recovery feels snappy and light, and I’m off for the next round. The sky is now fully light, my legs feel good and the worst of the rain has settled into a drizzle. Lights are blinking on in the few inhabited houses out here. The people inside have no idea of the epic battle being waged outside their widows. I am soaking wet, gasping and having the time of my life. The second and third sets go much like the first, but starting the fourth and final 3 minute tempo, I’m tired. The rain is letting up and the sun is trying to break through as if Mother Nature herself is giving me a boost. It’s time to get mentally tough.
Mental toughness has been another enduring topic of conversation in our team meetings and in the Fall Training Group at large, which consists of four teams just like ours. Olympian and World Champion Lynn Jennings talked to all of us last week about this very thing. She told us our greatest muscle lives between our ears. We all have the capacity to transcend the limits we put on ourselves once we stop listening to our negative voices and start focusing on the positive. In other words, you can choose to speak to yourself kindly (you are strong, you are bold, you are fast), and you can choose to draw strength from those words. What works for me when I feel like I am running beyond my limits is to remind myself that I am physically fine, that I am not in actual danger of blowing up. “You’re ok, you’re ok, you’re ok.” This is my mantra through the last speed round, until I hit the final 30 seconds, lights out. I sprint for the abandoned lifeguard stand straight into the offshore gale. I am ten years old flying across the playground at recess; I am lifting my knees, flirting with danger, killing it out here.
And, boom, it’s done. The sun is out, the wind smells like sea salt, and I am soaked to the bone. I jog the two miles back to the parking lot in a haze of endorphin fueled satisfaction, thinking about nothing at all. I drop my shoes at the car and walk across the sand in my socks, straight into the ocean up to my waist. It’s not like I can get any wetter. The cold water is heaven swirling around my legs. I stand there until my teeth chatter, spinning the story of this run, excited to share it all with Heidi and our team.
