The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly...I mean really really Ugly

By reading the title of this post, you can probably reason that I have some pretty good news, some bad news, and some ugly news, I mean really, really ugly news. The good news is actually great, and the bad news isn't that bad and the ugly news really isn't that ugly. The college cross country season is steadily approaching. 9 or so more days separates me from the actual beginning of something great. Training has been good, most of the time. Right now I am in a little bit of a rut, but who would blame me? From my last post, I was on top of the training sphere. My body was rocking and rolling and the workouts and miles flowed easily. Unfortunately, I might have over done it slightly, which is why I'm in this so called "rut" that runners experience plenty.

First, the Good

This last Sunday I went out to Sauvie Island, which is like 15 min west of Portland to join in what I would easily classify as one of the most badass workouts I have ever participated in. Meeting up with the usual East County marathon crew and joining forces with Bowerman Athletic Club, a group of 15 or so extremely fit, extremely aerobically inclined males, including myself, proceeded to do a workout that will likely make you mutter, "What. The. Fuck." After a 2 mile warm-up, the planned run of 18 miles at 5:40 pace was underway. You read that right. 18 miles. At 5:40 pace. If only that was the workout we ran, things would have been a WHOLE lot smoother.

The first mile was full of gabbing and grab-ass. And not the usual beginning of the long workout quips or funny comments that are quickly replaced by the need for oxygen. No, it was like a high school lunch room. People having full on conversations. This sure doesn't feel like 5:40 pace. Well, thats because it wasn't. The first mile marker is passed in a paltry 6 minutes flat. And now the fun begins. Panic from the group has the pace dropped immediately to somewhere in the 5:20 region. The rush to make up the time lost begins NOW. Only after a couple guys yell that "oh hey, we have 17 more miles to make up 20 seconds, why are we in a hurry?" that the pace relaxes at 535 pace. And there it stays for a majority of the run.

I feel pretty damn good during this whole affair, let me tell you. The legs are moving quite nicely. The breathing is going splendidly. Mentally I am a monk, simply focused on the task before me. Or that really really good looking female in the car that just drove by... Everything is going perfect. But I have one major flaw in my workout plan that eventually leads to my temporary ruin. Drinking stations. Everyone who trains for a marathon seriously uses them. It's part of the whole race strategy. The more water or carbohydrates you are able to replace, the stronger you will be come mile 24, 25 and 26. So when you look at the water table which was located at miles 6 and 12, you saw a bunch of squirt water bottles, some GU, maybe a little bit of Gatorade, and a bottle of partitially carbonated Coke. Coke? Partially carbonated? THAT would belong to me. And let me tell you all in advance, shaking out the carbonation 20 minutes before the run does jack-squat. So don't do it. Ever.  Don't even drink Coke in the middle of ANY workout. It's bad news. Really bad news.

The Bad

We are cruising along. The pack that did start out as a large group is now only 7. Luckily I am among them. The thinning out started when a 5:24 mile was dropped during mile 13. It was a nice mix up from 4 miles in row at 5:30 we had just done. Mile 15 rolls around. I feel good. Actually, I don't really feel anything. I am a lanky tower of 'meh'. The lactate has grown like ivy around my legs and has been there since mile 11 or so. The key now is rhythm. I have two left feet on the dance floor, but on the roads, FORGET ABOUT IT. I'm in the zone. I have Saturday Night Fever. I'm bustin' a move. All is well. We even have Alan Webb, YES THEE ALAN WEBB, join us the last two and a half miles or so. It's a runners dream. Then I am reminded that the Coke I drank a while back, you know, instead of water or actual sports drink, was not de-carbonated. Not by a long shot. I become gasier than a pot of refried beans. Burps punctuate the already tough task of just running at this constant pace for another 2 miles. My stomach rumbles. It comes in waves. Like an incoming tide, it moves further and further up my throat.

Not many people get to say that they have run with Alan Webb. Even fewer people get to say that they vomited mid-run next to him, which is exactly what I did. Now, I'm not proud of it, but so far I think that this is my claim to fame. I puked mid-run next to the greatest American Miler of all-time. Pretty studly stuff. Ended up finishing the work out, puke break included at 5:37 pace. For 18 miles and spending about 40 seconds of it on with my hands on my knees because I thought I would go old school and try and drink Coke for a marathon workout, I would say I was pretty pleased by the result. I would like to say that Kenny Moore and Frank Shorter were full of shit when they used de-fizzed coke as a precursor to Gatorade. From now on, its water for me.

The Ugly...The Really, Really Ugly

So I'm on cloud 9. I have just run 18 miles at 537 pace, I feel fit as a whistle and I can't wait to do my next workout. Reality sets in though. You can only hit your self so many times with a 2x4 and still be standing. I learned that the hard way yesterday. I won't bore you with details, but the fact of the matter is, the 18 mile tempo ravaged my legs. This is the first workout in about a month I have had to drop because of my legs saying 'nope'. It happens, it has happened before and it will surely happen again, but the main thing is trying to adjust training so I by the time cross country rolls around, I'll be chomping at the bit, which I don't think will be a problem. The key to success is winning more workouts than you lose. And since I had mercy ruled the last three, I am ok with tapping out on this last one.

So really, the ugly, even though it is not ideal, really is just "meh" in comparison. That 18 miler, when my legs have finally recovered from the stress, will set me up nicely to roll through the mile repeats and the tempo runs and hopefully lead me to run some pretty huge PR's. I'll give it a go on Saturday again with a light fartlek and then wait. If my "Ugly" is one bad workout after some pretty epic runs, then I think I should be just fine.