My Own "Transcendent" Half-Marathon and My New Training Toy

Saturday I had the opportunity to do my long run around a lake as a result of a reunion event with some of my wife's high school friends (in case you need an excuse to run).  Turns out one lap around the lake was just over a mile.  Somewhere around mile 4, I realized the beauty of the transcendent marathon.  A self-transcendent marathon is a marathon that is essentially run in a loop that is about a mile in length which you run 26 times.

On the surface, it seems pretty simple, but anyone who has ever run long distances knows the mental challenge such distances are.  Add to the mental challenge of a long distance run that you are doing the same loop over and over again and something strange starts to happen.  A friend of mine who has done a marathon like this before said that, at some point, you know which mile you're on by the time on the clock.

You get lost in the run and stop counting.  You pass the same point so many times that you don't think about how long it has been since the last time you passed the point.  Miles seem shorter and, once the run becomes rote and your body is in cruise control, the possibility of losing yourself in the physical challenge of the run, your mind goes blank(ish).

I've heard of runs that last 24 hours or ones that go several days.  Some are extremely high mileage races and go beyond the standard ultra-marathon distances.  Some sects of Buddhist Monks do these as a way to meditate and find enlightenment.

All that being said, I did a self-made-self-transcendent- half marathon and can say I only half-understand the beauty and the challenge of such marathons.  I lost track of counting somewhere around 8 miles, but at the same time I knew exactly where I was in distance.  I was able to work a few things out in my mind, more than usual on my runs and even forgot that I needed to look out for cars from time to time.  I can only imagine what one of these races would be like in the longer distances, but I think it might be worth it to try it.

On Sunday, having full intentions of cross-training on my bike at least 50-60 miles to continue to train for the Philly Livestrong Challenge (please support me by clicking here), I ran into a few snags and found a good solution.  First, I needed to have my bike worked on.  A spoke was broken on the back tire, which also needed to be trued.  In addition, I needed to have the gear shifting mechanisms tweaked.  I was informed that it wouldn't be finished for a week :-/

Fortunately, when I bought my bike, I also got my wife a new bike.  Newer bikes are almost indiscernible by gender.  In fact, beyond her frame being a bit shorter than mine, there really is no difference, so I had resolved to take her new bike on its maiden long-haul.  Thunder and lightning offered a new problem.

I don't mind running in rain, but I get a little hinky about running or riding in lightning.  I get a little nervous about riding in heavy rain, but draw the line at lightning and thunder storms.  Fortunately, I had just bought this new magnetic bike trainer.  These devices are pretty cool, you hook your back tire to this contraption and press a spindle onto the back wheel setting the tension to your desired level.

You know I don't like the idea of exercise bikes or treadmills, but this was a little different.  I set it up outside in the heat and humidity, but under the covered deck- so I could at least feel like I was riding outside.  Then for two hours, I gave myself a spin-class.  I adjusted the gears for hard/easy and recovery intervals.  I went fast, hard, slow.  My heart raced and the sweat poured from my body.  The main difference between doing what I did yesterday versus a real ride was that I didn't give my legs any of the breaks you can give your legs on a regular ride.  If I stopped pedaling, the wheel stopped turning.  I can honestly say that the workout was similar to a real ride, but I left a puddle in my wake.

That puddle is the result of my body's lame attempt to cool itself.