Running Tips

THE RUNNING RESEARCH NEWS WEEKLY TRAINING UPDATE

 

ISSUE # 34    JANUARY 11, 2005

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Hi Everyone

 

    When I was a boy, I loved fishing with my dad as much as I loved baseball.

 

    On Little Sand Lake, we spun for rainbow-colored bass at sun-up and sun-down and trolled for green-speckled pike throughout the afternoons, but our midnight angles were always the best.  Each moment was one aspect of perfection - walking down the sandy path to the dark dock, stepping into the green Boat, hearing the small pop of our 5-hp Chief, plowing softly through the water until dad said the magic word - "Here."

 

    When we dropped anchor, the night would envelope us.  The nearby rushes swayed in the light breeze like supple snakes, the water was as dark as ink.  The albescent curtain above us held diamonds of every possible size and brightness.

 

    Dad loved me enough not to punctuate the serene moment with words.  The gentle jostling of the Boat, the mysterious, milky emulsion overhead, and our togetherness were more than enough to make me feel happy, secure.  He knew it.

 

    We baited our hooks and dropped our white lines into the black water, straight to the bottom.  We waited.

 

    After 15 minutes, dad was more relaxed than ever, but I began to transform myself into a restless young boy.  30 minutes into our stay, I suggested a move to potentially more productive waters.  "Wait," he said.

 

    I spent the next half-hour watching for shooting stars, listening to deer splash at the water's edge, occasionally thinking it was slightly strange to be sitting in a wooden container on top of 15 feet of ebony water, linked with the shadowy lake bottom by two white strings and a yellow anchor rope.  I wanted to move quickly to a different part of the lake, get some action going.  When my watch blinked one o'clock, I said, "Let's go try over by the point."

 

    "Check your line - I think you have a fish," he said.  That was clearly impossible, I had felt nothing, but - just in case - I flicked my rod tip upward to set the hook and began turning the reel handle.  My pole instantly doubled over, and within seconds I had a giant bullhead on Board, with ridiculously long whiskers and a splash of gold on its belly.  Dad watched calmly, then reeled in a fish of similar size.  The big bottom-fish had swallowed our bait - and then waited motionless for something to happen.  We had to wait patiently for the fish to come and then actively test our lines to reveal the treasures hidden in the darkness.

 

    Just as dad and I had to fire up our lines to see what was really there, you must test yourself in your training by carrying out very high-quality workouts, sometimes doing a bit more than you thought was possible.  It is important, however, to wait until the "fish is on the hook" before carrying out your very high-quality sessions.  That is, you should wait to conduct your high-intensity training until you are completely ready to do it.

 

    This is another way of saying that you should never try to rush your gains in fitness.  Yes, it is tempting to try to complete  a series of unusually challenging things, the completion of which might produce - in a very short period of time - a PR in an upcoming race.  This temptation is especially strong if you have tasted success in recent competitions, making exciting improvements in your performances which suggest that additional, quick upgrades may be possible.

 

    Trying to make sudden, dramatic improvements in performance is seldom a successful endeavor, however.  When we are too anxious to improve, we tend to do silly things.  We may run too fast on leg muscles which are tight and sore, leading to hamstring troubles or the prolonged misery of plantar fasciitis.  We may attempt to train in a high-quality way on days when we are feeling extremely tired, leading to staleness and an inability to complete our overall programs.  We may hit a 20-miler on a particular weekend in hopes of being better prepared for an impending marathon, even though one of our knees has been uncharacteristically sore.

 

    It is always better to wait until the fish is on the line, to wait until we are really ready before we take chances with our training by hitting the really high-quality sessions.  It is best to recover well before embarking on intense workouts, and it is almost-always best to improve running fitness in a rather inchmeal fashion, instead of going for broke with an unusually intense or voluminous spate of training - the kind of stuff which can sometimes produce quick gains but usually increases our risk of getting hurt or running out of gas.

 

    This means that there will be frustrating times when we seem to be sitting in the Boat waiting for something to happen, when our fitness seems to be stagnant, when workout splits and race times seem not to be moving in the right direction.  However, as long as we are doing quality things and as long as we are being gradually progressive with our training, steadily moving up the intensity and difficulty scales, the long-term movement of fitness may be slow, but it will almost always be in a positive direction.  This is far better than going up the hill too fast and plunging off the other side, better than pulling up our line before the fish is actually there.  When we are patient with our training and avoid moving away from the good things we are doing in hopes of getting quick results, we will ultimately find flashes of gold in our performances.

   

With thanks to my dad and with very kindest regards,

 

Owen Anderson