Just going to apologize now: Molly and I haven't taken any photos during recent runs, so I am resorting to clip art to illustrate this post.

Just going to apologize now: Molly and I haven’t taken any photos during recent runs, so I am resorting to clip art to illustrate this post.

When it comes to marathon training, I don’t look very far down the road. I don’t literally run with my  head down (well, okay, maybe when I’m burnt out), but I do metaphorically. My coach usually lays out my training schedule a week at a time, yet once I see what day the long run lands on, I don’t study the workouts like vocab list I’m cramming for the SATs. Instead, I rarely look more than a day or two ahead.

Like last week: No use fretting midweek about Saturday’s double runs (prep for next month’s Ragnar Relay!). The week’s long run fell on Wednesday (given that I work from home and it was summer vacation, my schedule has some bend and give…) so I needed to keep my focus on it. Coach wasn’t asking me to run all the workouts at the same time, so why even think about them at one time?

And even within that Wednesday workout, I didn’t dwell on the whole picture. I knew the complete distance was 17 miles, yet Coach Bri had cleverly divvied it up: 3 miles to warm up, then 1 mile of alternating 30 seconds light pick up with 1 minute back to comfortable pace until the mile was up. The main set was 4 x 2 miles at roughly marathon pace, then a 1/4-mile build to 10K feel with 3/4 ease off to warm-up pace. Finish with 8 x 100-meter strides (short pick-ups emphasizing quick feet), then half-mile easy. (Oh, and let’s not forget the lunge matrix running partner, Molly, and I had to complete before even setting out.)

In a way, this make-me-laugh comic illustrates Dim's sage refrain of, "Be where your feet are."

In a way, this make-me-laugh comic illustrates Dim’s sage refrain of, “Be where your feet are.”

The two miles at marathon pace were challenging, but attainable–and short lived. On the first one, Molly was about two steps ahead of me and to my left. Instead of fretting about not quite keeping up with her, I reminded myself I take longer to warm up. On the quarter-mile at 10K feel, Molly and I had agreed in advance we’d each run our own pace. I took off, then circled back to her for the 3/4-mile trot.

We gave thanks those reprieves lasted longer than the blink of an eye, so we were able to physically and mentally regroup. (Not to get all woo-woo West Coast, but as we ran along a road overlooking the Willamette River, I actually uttered out loud to Molly, “This break is giving me a chance to gather my chi for the next 2-mile segment.” Oh, geez, it sure reads a lot flakier than I think it sounded at the time!)

By the third set of repeats, we needed more than chi to propel us forward: We each took a GU sooner rather than later, and I turned on a Spotify playlist to blare boombox-style from the pocket on my Ultimate Direction hydration belt. Macklemore and Robyn can always get me going, so I was able to nail the paces and effort for the rest of the workout; Molly’s marathon goal isn’t as aggressive as mine, so she dialed back her speed a bit.

When Molly and I re-convened on a pathway around a well-shaded park, we high-fived each other, proud of our efforts–and in disbelief we’d covered nearly 17 miles. Only when we uttered the number did my legs get a bit wobbly; the 3/4-mile back to our houses seemed the longest stretch of the run.

If we'd thought about the 17 miles the whole way, they'd seem like they stretched to the vanishing point on the horizon.

If we’d thought about the 17 miles the whole way, they’d seem like they stretched to the vanishing point on the horizon.

As a result of this keeping-my-head-down outlook, I don’t always tally my weekly mileage. I didn’t do the math until Jack, the kids, and I were enjoying a rare day at the Oregon coast, and I was semi-dozing on the soft sand beach. With Daphne continually asking me to check out the hole she was digging–“Mom, it’s got water at the bottom!”–and John lamenting about not bringing a kite, I added up my six runs. I checked my math three times, but even with the kids’ distractions, I kept coming up with the same number: 40 miles. Somehow, without ever lifting my head, I’d run 40 miles in one week.

I’d love to hear from you: What do you do to keep your training plan in perspective?