I will always remember an article I read in Runner's World about four years ago when I was training for my first marathon. The column contained advice for running a marathon. It included a long list of things I was already doing like running consistently, having a mental image to help you go on during tough times, how to deal with hills, etc. The one thing that called my attention was the need to build mental toughness.
Sooner or later on a marathon, you will run into a difficult moment when you want to quit (more so on your first one, but I can't think of one I have run without such a moment). Upon completing my first marathon, Sharon gave me ceramic tile with the following inscription:
Marathon: (măr’ ə thon) Noun
1: A footrace of 26 miles, 385 yards
2: A contest of endurance
3: The triumph of will over reason
That third meaning is the one that best describes that moment. And the only thing that helps your will triumph over reason is mental toughness. You can't build it on race day, but have to do it on your training runs. One step at a time. So in my worse moments during races and during long training runs I always wonder... Do I have it? Do I have enough of it?
Perhaps the problem is that I have runner friends that make obvious displays of it, like Tim, who will run races nearly back to back, Mel, who smoked the hell out of her last ultra leg of the 2010 Ragnar in blistering heat or Scott, who recently run the 2010 Zumbro 100 Mile Endurance run. So next to them, it is difficult to measure up. Still, those exceptional runners aside, I have paid my dues. I have run nearly 4,000 miles since I started running in mid 2006 and have completed 10 marathons, but when the difficult moments arrive and I feel I could have done better, I slowed down to much or took too many walking breaks, the question keeps haunting me. Do I have what it takes? Have I built mental toughness?
Last Wednesday I went for an easy 3.5 mile trot. An unlikely run to find mental toughness. Weather forecast was calling for 40 degrees ("feels like 29"), 50% chance of rain and 28 mph winds. Not a pretty picture, but not horrible... in appearance. I am wearing shorts, a compression top, gloves and a running cap (ball cap style).
My plan is to run around the Mississippi crossing the Plymouth and Stone Arch bridges in a counterclock-wise direction from home. Immediately out the door I realize it is going to be nasty. The wind is pretty bad and there is a mix of rain and ice coming down. By the time I get to Main street (one block from the start), I want to turn around. Still, I keep going even though the rain/ice falling feels like needles on my face and legs.
The trail portion of the run by Nicollet Island is dark, cold and wet. The only two people I cross are wearing winter coats and don't look happy or warm. By the time I get to the Plymouth bridge the wind has picked up and I immediately think of the treadmill at the fitness center in my building and how I often think that room is too warm.
The bridge is closed due to corroded cables, but damn if I am going to turn around and shorten my run (or go to the Broadway bridge and extend it for that matter). The city has done a terrific work of closing that bridge. The barricade is not one you can just squeeze by, you have to climb it and use hands and feet to get to the other side. The wind is now furious. I run covering the side of my face while thinking I should have brought my winter cap which covers my ears. The run is not long, but at that time I feel this is the worse stretch of my running times. That thought fuels my stride and keeps me running uphill against the wind and rain on the abandoned bridge (while looking behind me for cops). The bridge is only a fifth of a mile, but at this time it feels a lot longer.
By the time I get to the other side of the bridge (and climb out to the legal side of the street), I feel I have made it. The bridge tried but didn't make me turn around. Suddenly the wind dies down. Although perhaps it is the sense of accomplishment that serve me as a shield. Either way the rest of the run doesn't seem nearly as bad. Even crossing the Stone Arch bridge feels like a victory lap. It immediately comes to mind. It took mental toughness to cross that bridge. The answer to the question wasn't hiding on mile 25 of a marathon or mile 39 of the 2010 Ragnar relay race, it was right next to home on a 3.5 mile training run.
There I was, running the yellow brick road on my way to Emerald City along with the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and the Lion. They are seeking a brain, a heart and courage. I am seeking mental toughness. And we all arrive to our destination to find out we had it all along.
The Wizard of Oz in Emerald City may turn out to be a fraud and the same question about sufficient mental toughness may pop into my head again, but when you are a long distance runner the end doesn't matter; it is the journey that counts. I have very few memories from crossing the finish line, but many from the miles it took to get there while hitting the yellow brick road.
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