Finishing the Osaka marathon at the end of October put me 2 weeks behind schedule in training for the Tokyo 2012 (coming up in February, for real!). In addition to a zero week for recovery—in which, despite the slight misnomer in its title, I was actually allowed to run three times—my first official week back on track for training was already one spent solemnly tapering my miles. So I felt like I was in a haze of half-assed-ness while being smacked on the cheek with the hand of undesired laziness in those initial training weeks. This was something I was aiming to change as I went all in and anted up with a handful of doubles.
I gave myself the self-proclaimed "all clear" to proceed with project Nothin' or Double when the last twinges of awkwardness dissipated from my legs as I confidently came to the end of a 6 mile run, only one week to the day from the event in that little race recap I wrote about in the Osaka Marathon post. So after spending the following day cross training like a fiend on a bicycle—thinking that I would compensate for lost running time by cross training harder—Tuesday's short 3 mile morning run felt, well...too short. Even though my thighs were a bit sore from the over cycling routine—accomplished in my basket & bell adorned bicycle!—the run went off without a hitch and I had a surplus of energy left to dispense like Pez at a candy convention.
A few hours passed, and the urge to run again shoved me out the door like a benevolent poltergeist that spent their past life as a motivational speaker & physical therapist who now just wanted a few hours of downtime for his or herself in the haunted house. I'm not accustomed to double workouts. Outside of running marathons, I'm an alarmingly lazy person, but I was too curious not to give this first attempt a solid go. Logic led me to believe I would be far too fatigued from earlier to meet any type of prolonged success, but I found once I got into the rhythm of running I actually had more energy to burn.
And so...
Before long, I was kicking through my litte local neighborhood park, and heading out even farther down the lane than I had initially anticipated. Of course, I didn't start with a plan, so even in the midst of my maneuvering through the side streets of Tokyo, I had no idea how far I'd go. Afterwards, I retraced my steps with Google maps and found I had struck a match with the morning's distance and burned through exactly 3 miles; even though I had gone a completely uncharted way. This second run had uncovered a wealth of potential energy brimming beneath the surface, and I was set to further my exploration into doubles as the week progressed.
Wednesday morning was a medium 6 mile run that I took slow, not just out of necessity—because my thighs were still kind of sore—but also out of caution, because I knew I'd be hitting the track in Harajuku in the evening for my first outing with the international runner's club Namban Rengo. Finishing the 6 miles was a breeze, and I was beginning to wonder why I had waited so long to implement this excess milage into my previous 2 marathon training circuits. My legs were melding into a juggernaut of perpetual motion: the more kinetic energy I used, the more surplus of energy it created.
Getting to Oda field, tucked snuggly into the corner of Yoyogi koen, to meet my fellow runners was a bit of a fiasco. I ended up on 3 different trains heading in 3 different directions before finally getting it right. Shinjuku is a major section of Tokyo, I've never had trouble getting there before, but on this particular day, nobody seemed to want to take me there. When I eventually got to Harajuku, Oda field was easy to find, though surprisingly crowded. I suppose I had thought that the track was going to be reserved for the hour exclusively for Namban runners, but it wasn't. There's no reason I should have thought this, I just did. The group was filled with friendly folks with an earnest appetite for running. Some faces seemed familiar from way back when we were waiting at the Starbucks the morning of the Tokyo 2011 marathon, where I cunningly (some may choose to say "rudely") photo-bombed their portraits with a goofy-ass grin & great aplomb, so it's probably for the best that I wasn't as readily recognizable to any of them.
There were a lot of variables in this equation: 1) This was my first track workout. I usually don't pay attention to pace, or intervals, or what have you, so it was good to get a peek at some semblance of structure in my runs. 2) This was my second day of double workouts. I had done a 6 miler in the morning and was now staring over the precipice of a 3.5 mile drop of intense intervals. 3) It was my first participation in the Namban Rengo club. Outside of the races I've done, which I can count on one hand and still have enough fingers left over to throw out the horns of metal sign, running hasn't really been a social event for me. If anything, it's been the exact opposite. I spend hours at a time racking miles up like points in pac-man, aiming for that high score, all while lost alone in the misty midst of my thoughts. Anyone who has ever trained for an early spring marathon (well, within a certain region) before can probably attest to the solitude of fresh footfalls crunching along a light dusting of snow as dawn breaks on the horizon of a 15+ mile run, where you're one of the only souls out on that road. But, the truth is, I kind of like that insolar meditative environment.
Anyway, the track workout was enjoyable. There's no coaching involved really, you just sort of run at your own pace within one of the two designated speed groups. So it's a bit more laid back than my initial assumptions led me to believe, and it's all the better for it. But this speed work is where my zealous trappings coiled like a cobra in the brush alongside the shadowy edge of the track, reared up with a hiss, and sank its fangs into my Achilles tendon. All these double workouts, and newly applied assortment of technique tweaks to my form, had caught up to me. I had put too much stress on my tendon, and it was telling me, loud & clear, by tapping out "痛い" in Morse (well, Wabun) code along my nervous system. As a responsible runner, in the midst of marathon training, I did the sensible thing, since I was having such a good time, I ignored it. The following day, Vin & I took to the streets to revisit the stretch along the 15km point of the actual Tokyo marathon, for a quick 3 mile run. The Achilles tendon pain noticeably took a spring from the mattress of my step. Once again, I ignored it. I ran a slow 3 miler later at night; sealing the envelope containing my formal notice of pain with a majestic wax stamp, that somewhat resembled me flipping myself the bird, and hand delivered it. After a full rest day, and a cautiously slow medium length 6 mile run on Saturday, I felt fine. That is, until Sunday's 11 mile LSD.
At the end of the 11th mile I was wincing my way back to the house with every gingerly step taken along the way. My leg was thoroughly thrashed. It felt like I had loaded a revolver, for my own amusement, and took shots at my feet to watch myself dance, only to foolishly hit my foot with a ricochet. I was nearsighted to take on so many miles so soon after a marathon and think that it would carry no consequences. So without any other choice, I curtailed my running to next to nothing for the following few days, until I felt fine enough to ease back into my full training schedule. Things are fine now, but it was touch & go for a bit there. This doubles ordeal knocked me off my proper schedule (one that I was already 2 weeks behind on to begin with) for nearly a week. I still do a double workout on Wednesdays, where I've tried to keep up on a medium distance morning run, followed by a night at the Namban track. This routine has been yielding much better results, as opposed to the everything everyday method.
I personally don't like to stray too far away from my allotted running schedule. Going over, on occasion, is fine, but I always feel dejected when I have to limbo limp under the mile marker. I'm a bit of a stickler for what's on the calendar on any particular day. Sometimes, however, you just need to back off, and let your body recover before finding the breaking point. There's no proper reward in pushing your training past the point of ruin. A healthy elixir of persistence, practice, & patience will get you where you need to be every time.
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