As I ready myself for a first and epic 20-miler this weekend, I thought I'd compile some thoughts on how to make runs seem shorter than they are. I feel like I've become quite good at it over the past 12 weeks, so here are just a few of my current strategies.
- Podcasts - Preferably hour-long podcasts with a variety of different stories. (Articles? Vignettes? What do you call one section of a podcast?) My personal faves are Snap Judgment, The Moth, This American Life, and Radiolab. NPR geek much? Over the past few years I have pretty much listened to the whole archive of each. My listening hours have gone way up particularly over the past six months or so, so unfortunately I have to ration my podcast listening during weekday runs so I can save up the new episodes for Saturdays. My sister also just suggested How Did This Get Made? in which comedians dish about "movies that are so bad that [they're] amazing." Sounds promising. Adding that to my playlist tonight.
- Music - An obvious choice, I know. But my approach is very deliberate. Unless I'm doing speedwork, which I can't really say this training plan includes much of, I save my music for when I really need it. At the end of long runs when I need an energy boost, for instance. That means podcasts first, then a transition to music. Races are times for music, too--no podcasts. I've listened strictly to music for the entire duration of all of my half marathons. I know some people say music prevents them from tuning in to their surroundings or the sound of their own breathing or footsteps. To that I say: nothing. I can't hear them anyway because I'm listening to my music! But really, I agree with them in theory, yet I still prefer music. It makes me run faster and enhances my mood. (Sidenote: I went to a party a few days ago, and a friend told me he often catches me running around my neighborhood with a "shit-eating grin on my face." Yup, that's the music--and podcasts. It's really hard to imagine smiling nearly as often during runs without that audio.)
- Add Mileage to the Start of the Route - My long runs generally follow the same basic route. I prefer big loops to out-and-back routes, so as my Saturday runs get longer, I just stretch the loop so that it gets bigger and bigger. I've discovered that when adding miles like this, it's better to stretch that loop more in the first half of the run than the second. That means that when I'm coming up on the last few miles, my brain recognizes that I'm almost finished (and is thankful). If I were to add miles to the end of the loop, my brain would recognize those familiar landmarks as the end of my run, but I'd still have to trudge through an additional two or three miles. Not cool.
- Count Other Runners - Maybe this is a little obsessive of me. I can't remember when I started doing this, but on every run, I count how many other runners I see. As with some other parts of my life, this comes with strict rules. To be counted, people must be "real" runners, those who have explicitly set out with the intention of going for a run. Meaning the following don't count: people running to cross the street or catch a bus; people playing soccer; kids playing tag at the park; people chasing their dogs; etc. On occasion, I come across groups of people doing laps around the block, and I believe they're probably part of a fitness class or something, and I've struggled with whether to include them. I've decided yes. But I have to admit the trickiest people to figure out are those who run in strange clothes. Not costume strange, more like cargo pants or jeans kind of strange. Shoes are usually the tip-off, but sometimes they can be deceiving. There are lots of Portlanders out there in capris and running shoes, and lemme tell ya: they ain't out for a run. It's always disappointing for me to include someone in my count only to find that she's just trying to catch up to a meter maid to avoid getting a ticket. (By the way, do people still say meter maid? It just seems so cumbersome to say parking enforcement officer.) Lastly, and this is an important rule, I'm unable to count someone unless I myself have started my run. So for the first few blocks when I'm warming up with a walk before I get to my starting location, I can't count anyone. Sometimes this kills me, but rules are rules, right? Even if they're completely arbitrary and fabricated by me.
- Judge Everyone - Yup, I said it. As a self-proclaimed people-watcher, I admit it. I judge people. I've got to keep myself fascinated by the snippets of people's lives that I encounter. If I saw you on my Saturday run, I probably judged you too. This doesn't always need to be negative. I've often passed a woman on the street and reflected upon how beautiful she was and proceeded to spend the next few minutes trying to dissect exactly what it was that made her so striking. Or once I saw what looked to be a six-year-old taking his teeny tiny puppy for a walk. And I marveled at how much cuteness could be packed into such small creatures. But yes, it's also true that I judge negatively. I wonder why that douchebag thinks he's so cool. Or why that woman obviously spent so much money on such an ugly purse. And I especially judge people who mock me with that fake running/arm-pumping movement. You'd be amazed at how many people do this. Most often it's good-natured, which I accept, sometimes a little grudgingly. I understand that some people just are confused about how to cheer on strangers. But every so often, it's clearly a petty and kind of bitter gesture. Then I judge. Hard. I know it would be better for my soul to be empathetic, recognize that something in their lives is going so badly that they need to be mean to strangers, but not during a run. So I allow myself to judge everyone silently. It's one time I permit myself to feel a little superior. On any given Saturday, I'm running 10+ miles, so fuck it, I'm gonna be a little pompous and keep myself busy by judging all the peons. And when I get home, I get to be sore and humble again. It all works out.
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