Shutes and Ladders

Hypothetical situation. You are training for something (meaning you can run, see, hypothetical). It’s 37 degrees and raining buckets. You’re slated for a long run, 12 to 14 miles. You don’t have a ton of time, so you’re going to run from home.

Now, I never ever skipped runs for any reason other than I planned to take a day off. I very rarely cut runs short because the conditions were crappy. But that doesn’t mean that it’s pleasant running long on days when it’s 37 and raining. The tendency is to see that you’re 3 miles away 8 miles in and say to yourself, “eh, 11 is close enough.” Or maybe you’re a block away at 12 miles – that’s far enough, maybe you think.

So on days like that, you go out in a straight line for 7 miles. You can focus for 48:00. Anyone can. And once you’re out there, you’re SOL. You’re going 14 miles, or you’re not getting home. That’s how you go on long runs when it sucks outside.

Similarly, I have a certain tolerance for driving. I’m no stranger to semi-long trips – I’ve been to Goshen twice this summer, among other places. But eventually I start saying to myself, “you know what, it cost like $70 more to fly, why not just do that?” And it’s compelling. The tactic, then, is to hammer yourself with as much driving as possible when you’re nearing that tipping point; it’ll get you an extra 800 miles in the car before you have time to realize that it’s no fun driving for hours upon hours at a time.

This is why I’m driving to Raleigh tomorrow, followed in short order by my foliage trip to visit home, to Beantown for Nancyboy McCoy, and to the Burg for my kids early in October. By the time I realize how much I value not being in the car for 10 hours in two days, I will have already made all the solo trips that I need to make this year. Except, I guess, for Thanksgiving and Christmas back home to Goshen again. Another 18 hours of driving right there. I just hope that no one dies any time soon. You know, because then I’d have to drive more.

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