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"Its good to have goals, Matt"

March 3, 2019 (Afternoon)

Exercise Type: Run

Comments:
I am a man who sets goals. Sometimes I set them way in advance, like my decision 11 months ago to return to the Boston Marathon. And sometimes I make them on the fly, like my decision today after running 23 miles to add on a few more at the end in order to ensure this would be the longest run of life (so far). A wise man once told me it was good to have goals, which, if memory serves, was a very gentle response a 9th-grade Matt's Simonson's mid-run pronouncement that he intended to go from being one of the slowest JV runners on the team to top 7 the following year. I, in fact, accomplish that feat, though I'm not sure how much the goal setting had to do with it (I training over the summer, but I have no idea 17-years later if that goal was what was actually getting me out the door). As runners, we're constantly readjusting our goals, sometimes upwards when we're #hungry for a bigger challenge and are doing better than we expected, and sometimes downwards to accommodate shin splints or an unexpectedly busy schedule. A key to success in running, I think is to be flexible in your goals when circumstances warrant, but not to let that flexibility become an excuse for selling ourselves short if the limiting factor is simply will power or fear. In raising our goals, we must also take not do increase the challenges often that we no longer believe ourselves when commit to doing a given workout. Raising the bar on ourselves must come as a bonus, a special treat if you will, rather than the expected encore after a performance.

I set out this week with a simple goal of running 80 miles. I was frustrated with myself for allowing my mileage to drop so precipitously the week before (due to travel and business, not aches and pains) and wanted to prove to myself I could sustain 2 back to back the week of solid mileage, rather than jumping from 50 to 90 to down to 40 as I just had. I figured that this would be a smarter way to prepare for Boston which as of today is only 6 weeks away. Around Thursday, with my mileage already up to 42.5, I figured why not shoot for 90 and have next week be 70. Consistency is good, but you do want to alternate harder and easier weeks and this seemed like a good way to ensure myself a day off in the week to come. On Friday, however, I ended up turning what supposed to be an ordinary 10-13 miler (yes, I'm aware how absurd that sounds, into a true long run of 22.5 I hadn't intended it to turn out that way. I just started following a dirt road up into some mountain villages and got curious if I could turn it into a loop. After I realized the loop probably existed but was outside the mileage I was willing to commit to for that day, I turned around and headed back from whence I came, a rare thing for me these days. On my way back down, I pondered what do with all this surplus mileage I'd suddenly acquired and decided rather than replacing my Sunday long run with something short, I'd shoot for 100 miles. I'd only hit this metaphorical summit a few times in my life, 2 or maybe 3 at most, always while training for a marathon, and most recently when I was still employed at Milton Academy (4 years ago, at least). I figured that doing so would help me rebuild my self-confidence going into Boston, assuring myself that I was still super fit and strong like I had been in the marathons I'd run 4-8 years ago. Plus, it's just such a satisfying number. One hundred miles. In a single week. There's nothing like. Except maybe 100 miles in a day, I suppose.

In any case, I kept Saturday's run deliberately relaxed, but still somehow ended up doing more miles than I'd planned. Part of the reason was that I told myself once I was midway through that I should try if I could do 100 miles off once-a-day runs, something I'd never before accomplished. Rather than merely settling for being "as good as I was back in the day" I would prove to myself that I still had new and better things ahead of me by pulling off a training feat I'd never yet attempted.

When I woke up this morning at 6 am (inadvertently, I might add, having only slept 5 hours), I was eager to get started. I'd been feeling a bit sick with a headache and upset stomach but no matter. I'd run myself back to health. With no food in my stomach and only a single glass of water, I headed out in the early morning chill, wearing shorts and a long-sleeve shirt. I sailed through the first couple miles with ease, happily reassuring myself that the 14-mile "recovery" day had done its job, or at least the best one could hope for under the circumstances. I had little trouble getting with the 1200m long hill, though I'll admit I allowed myself to take it pretty slowly, and thereupon began the long descent down into the Republika Srpska.

As I wound my way through sparsely populated Serb villages and semi-abandoned farms, I couldn't help but be struck by the sheer beauty of the place. At times, I even forget my headache and stomachache, though the weariness in my legs from the previous 77 miles this week was never quite off my mind. I alternated between listening to the full musical on my phone and tuning in to the first spring chirping of songbirds. Mt. Bjelasnica rose majestically in the distance, her upper reaches blanked in fresh snow while glowing white ski trails snaked their way down through the lower forested regions. The area is was running through consisted of scattered farmhouses interspersed with fields lying fallow in the early March mud, upon which the occasional horse or flock of lambs with their mothers could be seen. I've almost never seen cows in the villages around Sarajevo--I guess the terrain isn't suitable for herding and a single milk cow isn't economical--and though this was Serb and not a Muslim area, I didn't see any pigs either. The solitude was absolutely enchanting.

Eventually, I reached a dead-end. The road I was following was marked on Google Maps but not Strava so I wasn't 100% sure it existed, but I had been willing to take a chance. When after 5 miles of pavement the road turned to dirt, I realized I might reach the end of the line. That end was marked by a barking dog, who's owner kindly came out to call it off, and then informed me, mostly through gestures, that this road past this point required tall boots like his and that the snow would be up to my waist. That and the dog seemed like sufficient reason to turn back. I then tried another route to see if I could climb up to a road I'd seen curling around the mountain at a higher elevation. That road terminated in another farm where yet another Serb farmer engaged me in conversation for about 5 minutes about America, his daughter, his cow, his wife (I swear this was the order), the war, and where each of us had been born. He also offered me both rakia (plum brandy) and coffee, neither of which had the least appeal at that moment, though milking the cow looked kinda fun (he didn't offer that, much to my disappointment). I then returned from whence I'd come, heading about a mile back up the road then turning toward the town of Lukavica where a more reliable road was purported to exist. I overshot this road by a solid mile as I was trying to avoid checking the map in order to conserve battery power and thus prolong my ability to listen to Lillian Cunningham of The Washington Post teach me about obscure U.S. Presidents. Backtracking, I found the correct turn and thus began a five-and-a-half mile ascent, the highway part of which claimed to have a 5% grade. It was by far the slowest part of my run, but I found a rhythm and managed to keep the pace safely above walking speed. Fixating on the life and times of Millard Filmore helped (somewhat).

My trial-and-error route around the mountain is faithfully documented here: https://www.strava.com/activities/2188536744

At around the halfway point, I spotted two hikers washing their face in spigot by the side of the road. Fountains like this tend to be drinkable throughout Bosnia, and much of Europe of the matter, and are left always running, perhaps so that the pipes won't freeze. Therefore, I paused for several minutes to have a drink, my first since leaving home 3 hours earlier. Luckily, the weather was just right for a run like this: mid-30s climbing to the low 50s by the end, so I didn't sweat all that much and thus never got dehydrated. All the same, the icy cold water felt incredibly refreshing and I was very glad to have stopped. While I was paused by the side of the road I check the map and saw that I was going to overshoot my mileage target by 2-4 miles if I ended up the run at the exact spot where I first picked up the around-the-mountain-loop, and 4-6 miles if I continued on down to my house making a lollipop shape. This later turned out to be a serious underestimate. Thus it was that I began to ponder resetting my goals one more time, wondering if I could do something remarkable with this excess mileage.

As I neared the home stretch, coming down a magnificent 8 miles of downhill, I made up my mind to try to set a mileage record for a single run. Ironically, I could no longer recall what my existing mileage PR was: either 29 or 31 I thought, though it turns out the longest run I had recorded in this log was 27 (I believe now 29 was correct though). Therefore, 32 seems like a safe bet. I didn't want to end the run at 33 miles because that's my age and I was afraid I'd get sucked into the pressure of trying to run my age every year, which sooner or later would lead to me getting injured, either due to my advanced age or the sheer number of miles required. I briefly thought about trying to set a weekly mileage PR as well, but I had no idea what my weekly mileage PR was, which again is pretty ironic that I'd be motivated to try to break it. Upon reflection, however, I don't think it's all that surprising that we can be motivated by breaking PRs that don't end up sticking in our memories. Running, after all, is more about a sense of accomplishment and self-confidence we get from the acts breaking a time barrier or winning a race, not the actual digits themselves. My mile PR, for instance, is 4:47... I think... that may actually be 1500 time of 4:28 I converted in my head. And this is coming from someone who spent years obsessing over his mile PR.

It turns out my weekly mileage record is 115, so I'm glad I didn't aim for it - it would have forced me to run 37 miles. As it was, ended up doing 34 miles and achieving my second highest mileage week of all time (and the highest mileage off of once-a-day runs by a long shot).

I also started thinking about how exactly I wanted the run to end and it was then that I came up with what I am proud to say was a magnificent idea: run right past my house and on down to Dariva, the beautiful riverside carriage path where I'd finished my run 2 days ago, then continue on into the Ottoman-era marketplace in Old Town and end up at the famed drinking fountain on the side of the Gazi Huzrvev mosque. I still wasn't hungry but was eager to have some cold refreshing water to look forward to, and this fountain, in particular, has special folklore associated with it. Also, I loved the idea of finishing such a grand accomplishment in the busiest, sunniest part of town rather than my dark and dull apartment. And so, that is precisely what I did. I even picked up the pace for the last two miles, getting it down to the low 7s for the first time since I began.

As I write this 10 hours later, I still feel pretty good. My main soreness during the run was my hips; no my hip flexors, calves, or quads as has often been the case throughout this hilly week and certainly not my cardiovascular system, since I was rarely out of breath on this run. My back was a bit sore during the hour-long uphill, but coming down it was fine. The skin on the insides of my knees (inside, not underside) is a bit red and tender, and my big toes took a lot of pounding against the front of my shoes coming down, but overall I feel that I'm in pretty good shape. I made a point of walking around a good bit afterward and again this evening, as well as having my legs up against the wall and my hips elevated on a pillow for a couple of hours and as talked on the phone and worked on my laptop. Ben Stern swore by it as a way to drain the lactic acid back in high school; I haven't seen any studies, but I still do it. Didn't bother to stretch or do any dynamics - I figured the walking more or less took care of that. We'll see tomorrow how I feel. Hopefully, I can run a few miles.