image: Kori Barnum
I’m not saying twice is a trend, but for the second time in two years during the month of May I find myself harboring deep thoughts and reservations about my training goal. Last year I was registered to run what would have been my first 50 mile trail race in Southern Oregon on my birthday in July – what could be more perfect? Completing a new trail race distance for the first time on my birthday on a glorious and warm summer’s day in the mountains? Answer: nothing!!!
And yet, the porridge just didn’t seem right. I had a fun training plan, I was only running 5 days a week, it should have been perfect. But I could tell after much soul searching that my heart wasn’t in it, I was training because I felt like I should and not because I wanted to. Despite frequent exasperated reminders from my spouse that I’m not a professional athlete and I don’t have to take this all so seriously, I do take it deadly serious because I love the training process and I worship at the church of physiological adaptation.
So in 2019 I bailed on that birthday race. We still traveled to Southern Oregon, we ran a really hot really fun 10 mile trail run just the two of us, read our books in the sunshine, took a nap, and had a nice dinner. Then on December 8 I ran my first 50 miler in Arizona and had a blast – it was the right race at the right time and it was a joy to train for.
This year I thought I was being sensible, not running hard during ski season. But when ski season ended abruptly in early March, and the climbing gym and Smith Rock closed, I thought the universe was sending me a sign – run many road miles, girl, work on your speed, try to qualify for Boston on a flat course. Perfect, I said, I will – I will train hard and run lots of miles and attempt a 3:50 time at the Chicago Marathon in October.
Then, inexplicably, the drumbeat of rethinking the goal started again about a week ago. I was run/walking on of my favorite sections of Shevlin Park, overwhelmed with gratitude that this trail system is basically in my back yard, overwhelmed with gratitude at that wonderful smell of warm pine and warm dirt that happens when the temperature is perfect and the sun is shining, and I thought – this is what I want to do all summer. I want to run a shit-ton of trail miles, I want to run most of those with Dan, I want to be caked in dust and carrying my water and food and running when it feels right and hiking when it feels right.
I don’t want to work on being faster.
I want to work on running farther.
I want to always been in the kind of running shape where I can drop into a 50K race on a whim.
I had thought that I’d chase this 3:50 goal, knowing that if (when, let’s be realistic) Chicago is canceled, I could still do a flat 26.2 race on the paved loop behind my house. But what if trail races start happening again? They’re already significantly smaller events than even most small road races, and social distancing on the trail if everyone is running the same way tends to happen organically. If trail events open back up, I want to support those events.
Technically, I haven’t made a decision yet. Technically, my #350project training schedule starts June 8. If I do decide to put this goal on pause, it will be just that – a pause, not a retirement. I’d still like to train hard to qualify for Boston on a flat course (I don’t intend to actually run Boston ever again, but that doesn’t dull the shine of qualifying attempts). But for now, for the direction my soul is leaning, I think we might be looking at a goal pivot.
To be continued…
