Oh, Brother

You were dying of curiosity about how my running is going, weren't you?  I could tell.

Two or three weeks before a marathon, a period called the taper begins.  More context: most training plans call for three weeks of increasing mileage and then a cutback week - so over one month early in the plan, weekly mileage might look like 32, 36, 40, then 36.  For the final month leading up to race day, I have my peak week, usually coinciding with my longest long run, then begin a three-week taper.  The taper contains progressively less mileage each week to allow the body to be well-rested, recovered from the training workload, and fresh for race day.  It's not complete kick-your-feet-up-on-the-couch rest, but it feels like a lot less.

But it's not as much fun as it sounds.  It's often a time when little teeny-tiny mini-injuries sound their alarms and leave you convinced and despondent that you won't be able to race.  Last night, one of my running buddies noted that one of her colleagues was sick at work and my friend considered bathing in a vat of Lysol to avoid catching a pre-race cold.  Some runners might even be aware of what weather websites include 15-day forecasts and which ones stick to the more rational (but still pretty unrational) 10-day forecast. This sort of goofy behavior is par for the course during taper.

I have been refreshingly chill (ha, ha) about race day weather this time around so far.  After several experiences of pitching fits when the weather wasn't ordered-just-for-me perfect in past years, I finally truly understand that whatever happens on race day - whether I wake up to 35 , 55 or 75 degrees - just happens. It won't be devastating or ruin my weekend in the Windy City.

The early taper madness side effect that is hitting home (besides trying to get more sleep and chugging Emergen-C) is that I've been running out of steam and positive energy on runs I do on my own.  That's pretty standard (and understandable) at the end of a 16-week cycle.  I'll take a break after the marathon and will be mentally ready to go again by the time the snow flies.  But for now: oof.  Running can be boring, guys!

Luckily - to get to the point of this post - I got to run with my brother this morning!  He has a long shift at work today, so I was surprised that when I pitched the idea of a run, either pre-work or post-work, he chose pre-work!  I don't think he expected to have a start time that began with the number 5, though.  I toddled over to his apartment in the dark and met him, and we ran seven miles around the city.  

Two major highlights:

1) When we ran by a golf course, we saw four young deer standing just off the side of the road - I'm talking no more than eight feet.  I noticed them from about 100 feet down the road and we oohed and aahed because we live in the city now and don't see deer all the time.  Then, about 20 feet away, I said, "Do you think they're going to move?"  Nope.  We passed them, and their legs were shaking and buckling, but they didn't run.  You could practically see them whispering, "Should we be scared?  Should we be scared!? Someone take the lead!" I've never seen anything like that.

2) We saw an amazing, gorgeous, wonderful sunrise.  It was like Neapolitan ice cream: the sky was perfectly segmented into horizontal orange, pink, and purple layers.  For the last mile, I alternated between lamenting that I left my camera at home and badgering asking my brother to admit that he was happy to get up to run early enough to see this magnificent sunrise. Wow. It was so nice.

It was also so nice to spend time with my brother.  It was such a treat. He is a great running buddy and I am lucky to be able to run with him, hopefully more frequently now that we are in the same city.

I will leave you today with a message from how my mother signed off from a conversation this morning.  Instead of "Have a good day" or "Talk to you soon," she gave me "Make tracks in the world!" 

I kind of like that - so go on, make tracks in the world.

outside the neighborhood cheese shop