Training plans and goals

I have been running for the last two weeks as part of my conditioning. I started at 5 km 3 times a week. This week I am at 8 km 3 times a week. Next week I will take it up to 10 km per run with a final long run of 15 km. Then I will go back down the pyramid in my running as my skating load increases.

I have focused on finding that comfortable spot in my run where I’m almost on auto-pilot. I like the loose almost dreamy place that I go to when I find my groove, although, I have learned over time to control my exposure to the endorphin filled land that happens after you have been running for an hour. It’s easy to get lost in the runner’s high and push past the fine line between immaculate exertions and, not walking correctly for the rest of the week.

Running for me is always an exercise in minimalism. I’m not usually an “active” runner. My hands are always kept close to my chest. I breathe as rhythmically as possible. I focus on the heel to toe footwork to keep the cramps out of my shins. I find an easy comfortable place in my head to go while my body seeks out the terminus of my will’s desire.

My skating has been focused on a slow technique driven skate. I am working at speeds around 20 km per hour, and, really focusing on the heel of my foot and driving my foot forward in the glide as long as I can, and, working the outside edge of my wheels. My legs have definitely noticed the work. I can only describe the effort as isometrics in motion.

These low speed strength building exercises averaged 30-45 km last week with a long skate yesterday of 65 km. I have a peak skate planned for Sunday of 80 km. It will feature the same low speed exercises. I will back the mileage out as I go down the pyramid next week. This will coincide with the upswing in my running distance.

All of my efforts are being focused at increasing my aerobic capacity. I don’t need to be fast at what I have planned. I need to be persistent. I have to be able to skate all day every day for a month to reach my goal. Until then, my focus lies in stacking mileage and hours up and down in a delicate balance between progress and recovery.

It is a novel idea that you can push yourself to the point where your body and mind are screaming at you to stop and then right past. It is down right unnerving when you actually learn how to do it. All of the hormones rushing around in your head trying to convince the reasoning centers in your brain to stop sending work signals seem pretty convincing at first. Pain is such a reality in its own right, but, it is just one of the possible choices.

The answer is learning a new game to play in your head, or, it’s unlearning the games that you have already taught yourself.

I used to do the lying game. I would lie to myself when the pain came. I would convince myself that it was ok to keep going, because, I was almost done anyway. I would use variations on that theme as my mind chattered away incessantly. The truth is that I was wasting valuable energy and time in these efforts. Besides, it’s only pain. Silence is much more efficient.

Skating cross country last year showed me some places in my mind that I wasn’t prepared for. The whole process showed me the inherent weakness that my training had. I had trained my body to skate, but, my mind was not tempered to the process. I didn’t have my mind properly prepared to process the tormenting signals from my limbs.

I think ultra-endurance is not a thing that normal persons should seek. It has a byproduct of rendering all of the triviality of life into two outcomes: pass or fail. Every choice or decision that brings a person to knock on that door becomes so clearly defined, and, almost instantaneously becomes obliquely impersonal. The human ego is not equipped to be so abased, and, offers more coping games as a side effect.

The truth is: I am the composite application of mechanical indifference.

You could also reword it as, “There’s no crying in baseball”.

The procedural advantage is that once I realized that could push my way past pain, I opened a door to a whole new layer of hell. I now have a different, if not improved, mode of operation: I just don’t listen anymore.

Pain is now my friend. It is an indicator of progress. It shows me where the line is so that I don’t trip on it as I go past it. It is a matter of fact in my life. There will be a point in September when I wake one morning to a body that is casually nonspecific about the complaints issued forth, maybe.

So anyway, I’ve been training.