How I trained for a half-marathon in 34 days

• January 26, 2012

July 10 2010. I had no idea that in exactly 34 days, I’d find myself in the middle of the wilderness, pounding 13.1 miles of pavement to finish my first half-marathon. And it all started with a phone call from Justin-

“Hey Steve, Want to go for a run? I need to get my ass in shape”.

It wasn’t my first time running, but I wasn’t in incredible shape either- I’d been running on-and-off for about 6 years. High school cross country for all 4 years of glory, on and off during college, but never as more than a 3-miler-middle-of-the-pack kind of guy. Actually, middle-of-the-pack was probably a compliment for me. I never though I’d see what the end of mile 6 looked like, let alone mile 13.

Justin was an virgin runner and in decent shape for a 26 year old- probably better shape than me, anyways. We started off doing 3 miles, 4 or 5 times a week. There was no plan, besides a 4:45pm text- “loop in 15?”- the loop referring to a 3 mile circuit around RIT, the college that we’d both gone to.

It was exhausting. Two amateur runners logging 15 miles a week, far above what we should have been doing at the time. It was obvious by just looking at my feet- I was wearing Vibram Sprint’s and had a never-ending minefield of blisters. One would heal, another would sprout. It hurt to walk. To move. I pushed through the pain with extra socks and duck tape. This was not your mother’s couch-to-5k.

Cross training and hangovers

We’d cross-train by cycling on days that we were too exhausted to run. Except we didn’t know it was called cross-training. We had these crappy stainless-steel mountain bikes from Wal-Mart that weighed what had to be 50 pounds- but we’d go out on 2AM summer bike rides down the erie canal with headlamps on, logging in 20 to 30 miles at a clip.

You’d think the hungover mornings would be the days we were least likely to run, but the opposite actually happened. Hangovers were the perfect catalyst for putting in extra miles- I guess subconsciously we were trying to outrun the damage we’d done the night before. And boy was there damage to undo- nightly post-run hydration always happened at the bar.

In two weeks, we were pounding out 6 miles. In another two weeks, 9 miles almost everyday. Two amateurs, logging 45 miles per week. The body is an amazing machine- it can make incredible changes, restructuring itself in an incredibly short amount of time. I think I lost about 20 pounds during these 4 weeks, but it didn’t matter- all I cared about was the running, and I wasn’t doing it for the weight loss. It was pure, and everything else was gravy.

Methodical Meditation

Since we were running on a 3 mile loop, it was an all-or-nothing deal- you ran in increments of 3 whether you wanted to or not. Once you hit mile 4, there was no turning back. The bump from 3 to 6 was probably the hardest- after mile 5 you’re counting every step until you can stop moving your body. Going from 6 to 9 wasn’t nearly as difficult. It just sort of happened one day- we were getting close to the second time around our beloved loop and shared a mutual nod. We kept going without saying a word.

The running was methodical and meditating. We ran steady 9 minute miles, from day 1 on. This pace was never deviated from- it was our “granny gear”- the fastest we could go without burning out putting in those kind of miles. When you dedicated 2 hours a night to running, everything else seems to fade out and lose focus- running becomes all you think about at work and it’s all you talk about. Soon, we began doubling up on running and cycling- 9 miles of pavement pounding followed by 20 miles spinning pedals.

I was hooked. And everyone thought we were crazy. But what’s crazy about doing something obsessively when you love it?

Even though we could kill 9 miles, a full 13.1 still seemed outragous. We needed a big realization and we found it in the form of mid-run snacks- some dried pineapple or mango slices at mile 6 could change your entire day. It was eye opening and put 13.1 in our sights.

Judgement Day

On August 22, 2010 I made a ridiculous decision that I would try a half-marathon the next day. My journal entry reads-

“This weekend was a mess, ate like garbage. Thinking about running a half marathon tomorrow, I must be insane”

It was a cool summer evening, probably around 6pm when I headed out on the Lehigh Valley Trail on a mission to return back to my car a half-marathoner. I was wearing a camel bak loaded with 2L of gatoraid, a handful of goos, and a headlamp. The trail was 15 miles of flat, converted railroad track through a stretch of woods, so I could run straight out and straight back.

I made it out to the halfway point without too much trouble. Was I actually doing this? Scarfed down some energy gels and headed back in the opposite direction. At around mile 8 the sun began to set- now it was a race to make it back to my car before it got dark. At mile 10, the sun faded and darkness joined me for the rest of the run. I slapped on my headlamp without skipping a beat and carried on.

If you’ve never run with a headlamp on, boy is it interesting. You really can’t see well- either you aim it at your feet and can only make out about 2 feet ahead or you aim it into the distance- trading good visibility for having no idea what the hell is directly in front of you.

I ran the last 3, miserable, miles with the headlamp strapped to my forehead, rubbing uncomfortably against my temples. I counted every step. I wanted to stop, I wanted it to be over, but there was no choice- if I wanted to get back to my car, I had to push through and dig. And, 2 hours and 24 minutes after starting, I made it back to my Corolla with a new notch on my belt.

I called Justin-

Dude, you’re an idiot. It’s pitch black, you didn’t tell anyone you were going into the woods to run 13 miles and didn’t bring your phone? And asshole, you didn’t invite me?

We ran one together 6 days later.

Diet

I was on a Vegan kick during these 34 days (and for a month or two after). Don’t ask me why.. there was a girl.. whatever. I’m mentioning it because I was a bad vegan and pretty much subsided on nothing but bananas, kidney beans and dark chocolate almond milk. I blame the garbage truck load of carbs I was eating on pushing me through the training. Beer was (is?) also an essential daily vitamin in my life.

Notes and Gotchas

Going from virgin to half marathoner like this is stupid and insane. I’m not a doctor or personal trainer, and I’m lucky that I didn’t blow out my knees, destroy my shins, or get my kidney’s stolen in the woods. Don’t copy me!

I ran my first marathon exactly 1 year after my first half, August 23, 2011. It sucked. I’m training for another one this spring.

Mid-run snacks should be simple carbs. We were really inspired by Ultramarathon Man Dean Karnazes and tried to eat greasy slices of pizza in the middle of 16 mile run. This did not end gracefully.