BIG GOALS. SMALL VICTORY.

"Good thing I didn’t accomplish all of my goals yet, because then what would I do tomorrow?"

~ Alexi Pappas

As you may know, I accomplished one of my big running goals when I broke three hours in the marathon last fall.  But, by no means am I done.  Insert chuckles and eye rolls from family & friends.  Seriously, though, I would never say to my 8th grader, Yes, Rosie!  You finally got your back handspring on beam.  Man, that took forEVER.  You can sit back and relax now.  No need to keep working on anything new.  Most of us are goal-oriented by nature.  It feels good to aim for something, whether attainable or even just out of reach, because it gives us purpose and drive; something to work on that is different and often more challenging than things that are thrown at us in our day to day lives.  We need that.  At least, I do.  So, after Baystate I got on the phone with my coach and we set some new goals.  First, I'd like to bring my half marathon time down.  I've run a minimum of two marathons per year and often three or four since 2012.  After giving it a lot of thought, I've decided, for the first time in six years, to skip the spring marathon and focus solely on the half.  I can't remember the last time I ran a half that wasn't a tuneup for a marathon.  Which means most of them have been at the end of a 70 mile week, after having done a 20+ miler and a hard workout just days before and with no taper.  It's the perfect physical state to be in when using it to test your fitness during marathon prep.  But, unless you're training at a whole new level, it rarely results in a PR simply due to the fatigue from months of marathon build up.  Then, assuming I can successfully bring my half time down, I will have another go at the marathon in the fall with the goal being to lower that personal best as well.  So there it is.  Two new goals.  Big ones.  Go big or go home, right?  I'm turning 44 next month.  The clock is ticking.  I don't have a ton of time.  But I have enough if I stay healthy and play my cards right.

So, after a couple weeks off and a race "for fun" over Thanksgiving, it was time to start building again.  For my first tempo workout I decided to go on the treadmill.  I knew I didn't have the mental strength to find and hold tempo pace outside on my own.  And, to be honest, I didn't feel like fighting for it.  I wanted the machine to pace me so I could zone out and just get the work done.  It was really hard and it hurt, but it felt good to be pushing again after several weeks of easy miles.  The next week I had another one.  Exactly the same workout, just a little longer.  The day before I'd tripped on the sidewalk and taken a massive digger; cutting up my hands and knees where I'd landed.  I was fine; my ego bruised more than anything.  But, for my workout, I opted to go inside again.  I remember thinking, everything is sore and I really don't want to fall again.  But let's just call a spade a spade.  I was using any excuse I could come up with to use the treadmill.  Given how tough it had been to hold on the week before and my general lack of motivation and drive for training (yes, it was becoming a bit of problem), I knew the machine was the only way I was going to make it happen.  Once again, this one hurt.  As much, if not more than the last.  I wanted so badly to stop in the middle of it.  I didn't.  But, I wanted to.  It wasn't pretty, but I got it done.

Post-workout. Toast. And slightly defeated.

The following week I was on the track for some 400s.  These are hard, too, but I never do them inside because they're just too short and quick to manage on the belt and because, mentally, I can usually grit through the intervals, even when I'm by myself.  Back to the tempo run the Monday before Christmas.  It was cold and snowy out and the streets were icy so off to the gym I went.  I was not sad.  In fact, I was almost starting to look forward to hopping on the machine for these tempo workouts and just grinding them out without having to think about it.  Almost.  This one, my 3rd since I'd started back up with the workouts, went surprisingly well.  I was able to hit goal pace and even to push myself to the faster end of my time range for most of the miles.  I was pumped.  My coach texted me later in the day to ask how it went.  I let him know the details and he, too, was psyched that it had gone well.  But, he also reminded me that I can't stay inside for all my hard workouts.  Sigh.  I know, I said.  Just let me get through December and then I'll buck up.  Which brings me to last Thursday, January 9th.  This was my first tempo effort of the year and my longest in quite some time.  Yes, it was cold out and a little windy, but I knew I needed to brave the elements.  I also knew that I'd been using the treadmill as a crutch for the past few weeks because I'd lost all confidence in my ability to hold pace & stay focused.  No more excuses, I told myself.  It was time to hit the road.  Pun intended.  I warmed up with 2 easy miles and felt unexpectedly decent.
Pep talk #1.  Okay, Rebecca.  You can do this.  You ran a half marathon at this pace.  Believe in yourself.  Let's go.  
Mile one was 14 seconds too slow.  SHIT.
Pep talk #2.  Relax, Rebecca.  It's just one mile.  You have 7 more.  Let's see if you can settle in and find your groove.  
1.25 miles in and my pace was the same.  DAMMIT.  I stopped.  I texted my coach.  He wasn't there.  Part of me wondered if he wasn't answering on purpose.  You know, so I didn't do exactly what I was doing.  This was not the case, but I was in panic mode and all the thoughts were flying.  Worry, fear and doubt were seeping in.  Do I stop or do I keep going?
Pep talk #3.  NO!  You're doing this.  Screw goal pace.  You just have to stick it out at this point.  It's all mental.  Take control.  And get this done. 
I didn't hit goal pace for miles three and four, but I had average pace on my watch and I could see that I was getting closer, which was a big boost.   And I needed all that I could get at that point.  At mile four I turned around.
Pep talk #4.  Four miles to go.  What have you got?  
And then, it happened.  I hit my target pace.  I couldn't hold on to it for the whole mile.  But, I'd felt it click.  And that was enough.  It was in there.  Then....magic.  Miles six through eight were right on pace.  Sweet Pete, I'd finally done it.  I was sailing.  It was amazing.  It was also slightly downhill, but still.  And then it was over.  Praise be.  I was pretty satisfied with how things had played out, even a little proud, given how rough the start was.  I hadn't done the workout as planned.  But, I'd fought hard and I'd held on.  That was progress.  I won't forget that feeling for a while.  I've trained with one main goal for the past three years.  I've been so focused on it and wanted it so badly that I've been able to hit almost every one of my workouts when I needed to.  All of them, weather permitted, outside.  I'm starting over in some ways, building off of what I've done, yes, but treading into new territory.  All the feelings of uncertainty and fear that were there when I set the goal of running a sub-3 are back for these new goals.  Somehow I figured out how to navigate through them before.  I have to believe that there is no reason I won't be able to do it again.  This workout was a step in the right direction.  And as hard as it was to get over this one hurdle, one of many, I'm sure, it was also somewhat rewarding.  Now, I know I can forge ahead from here.  Thank goodness for small victories.

Worked. But proud.

Listen to this:

Blaze Up The Fire - Major Lazer