Boston Qualifying standard 11-13-2011

3 weeks before the Boston qualifier.
My confidence hit bottom after the final long run. I ate the last big meal that night and reminded myself that the body always rose to the occasion.

After A2A, I had no distractions in the form of other physical activities. My daily life was anchored by training sessions. Mom had to endure watching her son attempting to remove mass from the under-inflated body.

_endurance sport is 90% mental; the other 10% is also mental
Web was a great source of contradictory information. Runnersworld.com ran an amusing piece "6 Signs You May Have Post-Marathon Syndrome"

• Comparison shopping and minimizing your marathon accomplishment
• Lacking interest in setting a new goal
• Feelings of sadness, pessimism, and worthlessness
• Feeling lost without your training
• Not able to see the light through the fog
• Rounding your marathon time down–"I ran around 5 hours for a 5:55 finish"
Yeah, I had PMS 20 days before the gun. "A" race preparation started 3 months ago. I just need to push through obstacles.

Bathroom scale registered lowest # post-1998. I did not react with the satisfaction of hitting weight goal—“Did I lose muscle?” At that moment I related to a fashion model.

_accelerated training
Feet and calves didn’t feel good after Euro Roll. I shortened the training sessions. I considered backing out of this “A” event. Conventional wisdom said I need to change my goal. But Boston qualifying time was not negotiable.

My volume and intensity caught up to the program 6 weeks later. Somehow I felt less confident than ever. _Run Less Run Faster_ said I needed to do more. I intensified the sessions—knowing full well the risk of insufficient recovery.


_hill challenged
I didn't practice Dolly Parton and its neighboring hills prior to 2011. I assumed I could even-split the 2 miles because I was lazy, cheap, and delusional. After 4 White Rocks in 5 years, I faced up to my inability to recover after climbs. My last 5 long runs included hill repeats.

_crashes
All but 1 indicator said I was on target for a 3:20 marathon finish.

The first crash happened during the recovery between intervals. The left ankle didn’t clear the curb. I assumed I misjudged the distance while mocking with GPS. That added another facial scar to the collections—of all the eyewear I own, I had to use the $5 Home Depot eye protector that night.

Days later, I missed a block in a stream. This was during the warm up. I couldn’t blame fatigue.

Then I tripped over a shallow pothole at end of easy run during taper weeks.

I was disgusted by my weak ankle and the bandage bill. It was kinda cool to see red blood on the other side of Tegaderm. I stared at the overtraining evidence in the eye and went into denial mode—“I am in shape for a 3:20 marathon as long as weather is perfect. I will be aggressive with my pace. I will not back down. This race ain’t about fastest time; it’s about being good enough.”

I stopped riding Ninja to minimize injury risk.

Weight control was on target. I was proud of yet disliked my sunken cheeks. I visualized the big celebratory dinner.”