I started week six mostly worried, yet anxious to get going after two consecutive days without running. I had taken those two days after my heart rate had been spiked (well, hovering too high, anyway) during my aborted long run the Saturday before.
It was a tough two days. Just waiting, essentially, to see what would happen when I hit the pavement again. When I reached the end of my street and looked down at my watch, what would I see? Would I see the same elevated number as Saturday? Or something more normal?
Sometimes I catch myself thinking that, as a Zen student, I shouldn’t worry so much about this. My heart rate is my heart rate. Zen isn’t about always being calm, as is the popular conception; it’s about a basic friendliness with whatever arises. It’s about accepting anxiety when it is present, and not looking for it when it isn’t there.
There’s a sign on the wall just outside the zendo in our Temple that says (in Japanese), No Merit. And yet much of my fear about my heart rate last week was connected to achievement. I want to see things unfold in a certain way. And, for a time, they were unfolding in decidedly the opposite direction. Which made the basic friendliness difficult. But that, too, is something I can accept, something I can sit with. Or run with.
Week Six: I’m kind of surprised, in retrospect, that I didn’t begin the week with something easier, but I went out Tuesday for 8 miles of hills, and ramped up to my lactate threshold on repeats of the last one. It was bitterly cold and the streets were icy. But it was good to be out. And, yes, my heart rate was lower than Saturday. Not glance-at-my-watch-and-laugh low, but it felt like it was moving in the right direction.
Wednesday was my typical recovery run. I wrote in my training log when I finished, Mostly meh. There was nothing wrong with the run, but I still had to stay fairly slow to keep my heart at a recovery rate. I kept thinking to myself, well, it’s better, but it isn’t all the way better.
I decided not to do any speed work on Thursday and just have an easy six. It was incrementally better. But I found myself anxious for my rest day, hopeful that it could move me another step closer to being back.
As the weekend approached, I watched the weather closely. The forecast high for Saturday was 13 degrees, while Sunday was supposed to be 33 and raining. Which would I rather run sixteen miles in?
I went for Saturday, and was so glad I did. The temperature managed to climb to 16, and the sun was bright, the air clear and dry. I left my hydration pack behind (it would just freeze anyway), layered up, and headed out. It was a this-is-why-I-run type of run. I felt like my performance wasn’t quite where I wanted still, but it was quiet on the streets, and the air felt, well, pure.
I wrapped up the week, as usual with a Sunday recovery run. I really had trouble getting going the first few miles, and ended up even slower than my Wednesday run. It was just about as slow as my all-time low-point when I had a dark and horrible morning recovery run in December. I could have been terribly discouraged, based on everything since the aborted long run, but somehow I wasn’t. It’s just the effects of yesterday’s sixteen, I told myself. And a rest day to follow.
Eats & Drinks: As I noted above, this week’s experiment was with not eating and drinking on my sixteen-miler. I made it fine and was well hydrated, but I could feel the lack of energy in my legs for the last couple of miles. It felt like a good learning experience that didn’t do me any harm.
- Tied longest post-hip surgery (April 2011) run: 16.2 miles
Next Week’s Targets: Finding out if I really am all the way back. Oh, and a new longest run (post-hip surgery) of eighteen miles, wrapped into what should also be my highest mileage week (p.h.s., and perhaps even post-knee surgery (April 2003).