I can't speak for anyone else, but at a certain point the experience of running surpassed in value, and by a pretty wide margin, my desire to make sense out of it. I don't know why I run. I don't know why I race. I don't know why I compete. I don't need to know. Because running means more to me than curiosity. It goes deeper than knowledge. I run. I compete. I move on down the line. I'm a runner. For us runners, the question of “why” is pretty moot. Not because it may not be interesting, or important, from a certain point of view, but because we’ve left the question of the meaning of running behind. After all the questions have been asked, and all the answers given, in spite of the disagreement on essences, physiology, rationales, training strategies, trail running, road racing, i-pod wearing, mid-foot striking, turnover cadences, arm carriages, Jack Daniels, Arthur Lydiard, 20 miles a week or 100, 5k or the 50k, whether it's really the Miles of Trials o
Showing posts from February, 2009
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By Jeff Edmonds -
Some ruminations on training: Kara Goucher just won the Millrose Mile, running a strong 4:35, only a second or two off of her lifetime PR on an 11-lap to the mile board track. She also happens to be in marathon training, pounding out 90-100 mile weeks so that she can be in her best marathon shape by the end of April. I’m no Kara Goucher (in more ways than one), but I had a very similar experience this winter, running 3:51 for a hilly trail 50k a couple weeks before running 16:18 for 5k on a windy and hilly course. At first glance, this might seem strange. How is it that Goucher can be very near her peak shape in the mile while also shooting to be at her peak shape in the marathon? How is it that being in good shape for 50k means also being in good shape for 5k? The answer is simple: proper training for shorter events like the mile and the 5k is almost exactly the same (I’ll talk about the minor differences, too) as proper training for longer events like the marathon and a trail 50k.