Let's Go Streaking (Again)!

I started 2017 with a daily run streak, when I ran at least one mile every day. It lasted thirty-six days and came to an end because I chose to take a rest day. (The day after the rest day, I went out for eight miles.) That was the first time I intentionally did a daily run streak, although I didn't really commit to it until two weeks in. At that point, I was considering the 2018 Dopey Challenge at Walt Disney World, so running every day seemed like good preparation.

Last year Runner's World encourage readers to run every day from Memorial Day to Independence Day, which would be thirty-nine days. My middle-aged self determined to carry that an extra four days to equal my age. I ran too many miles during that streak, averaging over 5.5 miles/day, so I was pretty gassed at the end. But it felt good, and I was fit, ready to participate I that fall's Blue Ridge Relay, which is where I met a streaking master--McBeast, who has an active run streak of over 3000 days.

That brings us to today where I currently have a ten-day streak going. In fact, I started this entry after returning from a quick five-miler (I love you, Lake Newport!) during which I inhaled a bug and spent a mile or more coughing uncontrollably. Sorry to the neighbors who wondered if a coronavirus patient was lurking in their backyards. Last week I chronicled the benefits of exercising regularly in the midst of trauma, discovering a different perspective on recovery run. Every time I go for a run during this pandemic I feel like a human, accomplishing a goal, concentrating on one thing for an extended period of time. These are tasks that have become more difficult the last week or so of unprecedented stress. Therefore, I've made a commitment to keep streaking, at least until I can sit in one of my favorite local coffeeshops to sip and read (or write about the end of a streak?). And considering my (inherent and probably inherited) rebellious nature, maybe I'll punctuate the closing of this streak by streaking. Who's with me?!

(This is the medal haul from that Dopey Challenge.)

The 5k Marathon

(This is a tree-face I regularly pass during my runs. It has nothing to do with this post.)

Standing at the starting line, my friend looked at me and asked, "What are you trying to do today?"

I replied, "No idea. I haven't been doing any speedwork, but I figure I can suffer for twenty minutes or so."

The starting horn sounds, and 200+ runners go charging through. My heart rate immediately shoots up, but my lungs and legs feel good. I even start to sweat within the first half-mile, despite the temperatures in the mid-30s. I realize early on that I'm employing a strategy I'd only read about: drafting. See, I'm what is commonly referred to as a "citizen runner" (not Yuki Kawauchi), someone generally in the middle of the pack, periodically taking home an age group award, but (almost--it happened once) never on the podium. Therefore, drafting isn't something that usually makes a heap of difference to me.

But this time was different. Although several inches shorter than me, Jimmy was the perfect guy to draft off of. We're friends; he's super-fit, so I knew he could hold a quicker pace; and he's an experienced runner. And as a fun detail, he sold me my first pair of running shoes. Ideal candidate. We press onward, even with the cold air punishing my lungs about halfway through, just in time for Jimmy to duck behind me. (Which, I'd like to add, is no fair, even if it is protocol in friendly racing to share the load.) Nearing the final stretch, I remembered a few years earlier when Jimmy told me he no longer had much of a finish kick; so on the final turn, I aim to leave everything on the course, crossing the finish line before my friend with a new (official) 5k PR.

As I often ask in these pages, so what? (I mean, really, no one cares much about a runner's PRs.) Why this memory today? The answer is that this is exactly the mentality several people are working through in the midst of the COVID-19 crisis. We're facing this with a 5k attitude, balls-to-the-walls, if  you will. Heart rate is sky high, breathing is taxed, mental stamina is mostly high alert, and we may even feel a bit panicked. But the problem is we actually have a marathon's distance to run. (Worse, we don't know how many miles we have to cover to the finish line.) And that's unsustainable, friends. As usual, I don't have many answers to this problem. Yet I'll do my part to slow things down, live more intentionally, prioritize differently, and encourage you to do the same.

There are tangible behaviors to enact, but you've probably read all about them and hopefully even started practicing them. In the interim, set up virtual meetings or happy hours with your friends to laugh, cry, tell stories, or just look at one another. And please remember, this is a marathon, so stop sprinting.

The Recovery Run

Most runners, especially distance runners, are familiar with the recovery run. For those of you who have never tried it, it’s kind of self-explanatory: a slower run, usually after a hard workout. Some call it “conversational pace,” but recently it’s been dubbed “sexy pace.” Time to take in the scenery, have a chat, work out some work problem that’s had you stumped for a while. Maybe even craft and essay in your head.

And there are more and somewhat surprising benefits of sexy pace runs. It may sound counterintuitive, but recovery runs will actually help you run faster. First, the slower run keeps you in better aerobic (read: fat-burning) zone. And as you burn more fat, you drop more weight, you can run faster. Also, these paces enable your cardiovascular system to work more efficiently, so you’re able to—you guessed it!—run faster for longer periods of time.

Well, so what? What’s the point? I could continue explaining the research I’ve conducted (no matter how minimal) on the benefits of recovery runs. I could even offer some anecdotal evidence of the thousands of miles and fifteen (or is it sixteen?) marathons I’ve run. (Yeah, it’s sixteen.) Here’s the point: In the last week, I’ve discovered a new and different understanding of a “recovery run.”

I am not, by nature, and anxious person. Yes, I see the world through a morose lens, worrying here and there about my loved ones, but I generally scoff at the notion of “anxiety.” As a God-fearing Christian, I’m not even referencing the typical Scriptures about worry, fear, unease, or anxiety. (I will, however, encourage you to read Isaiah 41:8-10; Psalm 56:3; 1 John 4:18; and John 14:27. Or just google “God’s promises in the Bible.”) 

Like everyone else in the world, I’m talking about COVID-19, which is proving to cripple society at large, sending people into seclusion (an introvert’s dream), kids away from schools (proving why we don’t home-school our kids), shuttering amateur and professional sports (I miss you, Pittsburgh Pirates). It has the potential to shutter small businesses across America, handcuff the health care system, and delay—or at least shorten—the Presidential campaign. Ok, that last one seems pretty good.

Yet in the midst of all this doom and gloom (which is a decent, if not formulaic, Rolling Stones song), I’ve continued to train for my upcoming marathon as if it won’t get cancelled. (Update: It has! But I’ll keep running.) Since I started running more than ten years ago, I’ve always noted the psychological benefits of logging miles, thinking through issues, burning off stress. But with all the unknowns surrounding COVID-19, there are few things that have made me feel human the way running has. Elevating my heart rate, breathing the air outside, seeing a hawk swoop down in front of me, sweating, praying, talking with my running crew (no fist bumps & six feet apart!)—this practice continues to reap benefits. 

I wish I could say I’ve discovered some answers; that rarely happens. Running isn’t the solution to COVID-19. In fact, it’s not even the solution to the anxiety surrounding it. If that were the case, I’d like log thousands of miles between now and the “all clear” call. (Truthfully, I will likely log a lot of miles during that time. I’ll keep you posted.) What I do know is that being active is helpful; it’s a conduit and a healthy coping mechanism. I’m not always running the sexy pace; in fact, just yesterday it was more like a tempo run (non-runners, look it up). Running in the midst of a crisis: It’s my new recovery run.

(This is not a good example of social distancing, but it's Santa Claus! I KNOW him!)