Many of you are probably training RIGHT NOW for your first, fifth, 10th or 50th marathon happening this fall. And chances are many of you have run a half marathon or two before committing to the 26.2-mile journey. So you can probably attest to these 10 things that differentiate 13.1 training from 26.2 training, right?
As my Boston Marathon registration date looms, I thought it was important to note these facts about logging those miles for your first marathon.
This happens probably for two reasons: “I’m running double the mileage, I need double the calories,” OR….”I’m running double the mileage, I can eat whatever I want!” Both have merit (especially the first one), but this is definitely a true statement for probably every half-turned-full runner. You just eat everything.
I don’t know about the rest of you, but when I was in the meat of my training, I wanted to nap—like, all the time. And I don’t nap. But post-long run snoozefests became part of my weekly schedule. That never happened during half training—perhaps because running the appropriate mileage for that race just became part of my regular non-training routine.
I don’t think I ever ran one training run along a half marathon course, and many of the ones I did were within 20 miles of my house. But the marathon? I studied the elevation, did my long runs along the route, sought out the actual graffitied mile markers the city sprayed on the ground and had literal dreams about the course. I wanted to know the curves, slopes and breaks in the road.
It’s true—you will have at least one long (like 20+) run that is so damn euphoric, you’re sure you have race day in the bag.
This is also true. You’ll finish. And then you’ll immediately crumble and cry and think you can’t do it and doubt yourself. It will happen, but you also have to remember that it’s part of the training. Your body is being run to points of near-complete exhaustion, so it’s going to protest every once in a while. Follow your fueling plan, and you’ll bounce back in a few days.
I remember my buddy who ran with me told me, “It’s your first marathon! You have to wear bright colors and own it!” Yeah, okay—meanwhile my biggest fear is having a colitis accident at mile 19 and not wanting to stop. Why can’t I wear black shorts? But what about that tank? I didn’t run a long run in it, but it’s never really chafed before. Do I do hat or no hat? I need sunglasses…but what if it isn’t sunny? I ended up going for the neon green shorts and not having any bathroom issues (except for my 40-second squat between two portas because the lines were too long to wait for…sorry not sorry), but that was the most I’ve ever cared about my attire. Ever. Like total in my life, running or not.
Same here—I never worried about this during half marathons. It definitely happened, but it was so much less severe than the bonk I experienced at mile 20. I wouldn’t say I dragged myself to the finish, nor would I say I was completely defeated. But I definitely kept repeating “Just. Keep. Moving.” in my head for the last 10K. I knew it would happen, I envisioned what I would do. But you really can’t prepare for your first bonk until you experience it.
I did 10-mile interval or tempo workouts twice a week during my training. I began to realize that those Tuesdays and Thursdays started and ended at almost the exact same time and same point on my route every single day. Talk about consistency. I knew the stop sign marked the start of my cool-down; the cross-street heading toward the beach meant it was exactly 5 miles and time to turn around. The alarm clock stopped going off, and my body just started waking up at 6 a.m. by itself. People along my route went from quizzical looks—did I see her yesterday?—to acknowledging nods as they realized I’m the same crazy running girl they saw two days ago, last week, two weeks ago. Those same runs became my home for 12 weeks. I started to crave them like air. I never tired of the route because I knew it would get me to the starting line.
This one is KEY for me. Whether it’s a song that allows a rotten memory to surface and float out of my head or a point along a run where I recall a happy time that was had, marathon training was basically an organized emotional roller coaster. I thought about people, things, life moments and places I hadn’t considered in years. I probably left more baggage out on the roads during that training than any other time in my life. It was cleansing and totally uplifting. It was necessary and enough reason to do it all over again for Boston.
When I’m simply a normal crazy runner versus a marathon-training crazy runner, I hate off days. I feel antsy, I feel like I need to sweat, I feel like I can do just one tiny run and it will be okay. But training for the Carlsbad Marathon? Nope. You give me an off day, and I was taking it and laying around all day. When you enter the taper zone, I think you naturally get antsy because your body is used to higher overall mileage that just got slashed. However, the day-to-day attitude was, “Just get through this run, because Sunday is an easy 5 and Monday is a lazy day.”