19.6 Miles

Last year, my husband was my long run partner, even though he didn't have a race. We'd arrived in Houston after registration for the marathon was closed, and I got in because I'd agreed to help with the television coverage.

A pattern emerged on our long runs and became very apparent by the time we racheted up to 15, 17, 20 miles. A few miles before the end of those runs, I would pull away from him. Even though he would keep running, he would never catch up again.

I didn't think about it much at the time. After all, he wasn't really in training. (Yes, he ran 19.6 miles one day for no other reason than to keep me company. What a guy!) But I started thinking about it a week or two ago, as I pulled away from him on a six miler. Well, it was a six miler for me and a nine miler for him, I think. We passed five miles and I began to pull ahead of him. Just like last year. He says I sped up. I felt like I reached - for lack of a better term - "cruising speed." I can only describe it by saying all of a sudden, my stride and breathing got easier and more rhythmic.

I turned and motioned to John to keep up. He picked up the pace, but he didn't catch up. Yeah, I know he had three more miles to go, but later I said to him that I thought he should try to keep up now, so he can keep up when our runs become really long.

On the day of his 19.6 mile run last year, I ran 20. I pulled ahead of him around 16 miles, if I remember correctly. At the end of that run, I ran past our parked car for .4 miles, and limped back. By the time he came jogging up to the car, I was eating a peanut butter sandwich and drinking warm lemon-lime Gatorade and gingerly unlacing my shoes. He didn't run that extra .4 of a mile past the car.

Later he tried to convince me that 19.6 was as good as 20, but if you have ever run 20 or 26.2 miles before, you know that no, 19.6 isn't the same as 20 miles, just like 26 isn't the same as 26.2. I think the reason he had stopped there at the car is because I had pulled ahead of him and because he was alone and because, let's face it, bare feet and mushy peanut butter sandwiches are a lot better than taking another impossible, aching step at that point.

I've been trying to tell him that there are a lot of times in a marathon where anything looks better than taking one more impossible, aching step. A marathon, and the training for the marathon, is about discipline and pushing oneself into difficult mental territory - and coming out a winner, no matter how much time it takes you to cross the finish line.  He certainly could have done the marathon last year. And I'm certain he'll be ready for it this year.  I just want to make sure he has a good race that day.

I just want to make sure he'll come back for more.

On a more routine note, a lot of mileage got done *inside* on a treadmill this week. Friday, John and I did nine and seven miles respectively ON A TREADMILL (Sixty-four and a half minutes for me.) Yes, it was boring. Boy are we glad the weather turned.

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[Tammy]

LOVE IT!