Today, I am going to violate one of my own cardinal rules of blogging: “Don’t blog about blogging.” There’s a very good set of reasons for this rule, not the least of which has to do with the potential triggering of a catastrophic time-bending recursion paradox.
But the more likely scenario of blogging about blogging is that you become so self referential that you forget that all the interesting things in the world happen when you’re nowhere near a computer.
Still, rules were made to be broken. Well, actually that’s just a feeble excuse frequently offered by people who are about to arbitrarily break a rule, but there you have it.
Oh dear. I seem to be breaking another of my cardinal rules: “Don’t let the introduction go on too long. Get to the topic at hand as quickly as possible.”
Well, you know why I’m breaking rules willy-nilly? Because I’m feeling dangerous, that’s why.
Our Story So Far
Yesterday, I posted a story about how I ran 13 miles on Sunday, and how it hurt and I farted a lot and my nose ran and stuff.
This 13-mile run was part of my crash-training program toward a trail marathon less than a month from now.
Touchingly, many of you showed concern for my welfare. Sample comment excerpts included:
It’s madness in its purest form. The pain will last a lot longer than you think. The chance of injury is nearly 100% (no, this is not an embelishment).
No offense, giving onself a month to train for a marathon sounds really stupid. I envision total disaster, as well as serious orthopedic injuries.
Fatty, forget about the girlfriend for a second and listen to me: you shouldn’t be doing this race. You’re not ready. And you’re going to hurt yourself in ways that will take a lot of time to heal. I know, it hurts the ego to admit that, especially when you factor in The Runner. But if she’s really a serious runner, she should know that and should be talking you down from this, not letting you do this to yourself. That kind of mileage takes months to build, so your bones and musculature have time to develop the strength to take the pounding. It’s not the same as the bike, ask Lance!
Be careful. It’s not worth crippling yourself over, man!
Most of your reaction to 13 miles is normal, but think again what 26 will be like if you haven’t had a chance to either do (or recover properly from) anything approaching 26 miles. Most training programs limit the longest long run to 20, but none would try to shoehorn that in your timetable.
I’d question shooting for that marathon on such a compressed training schedule.
in theory of course, your cycling legs give you the lungs and strength to do some damage. You really need to build up to the pounding to your bones and joints that distance running does to you.Sounds like you can do a 1/2 but 3wks till doing a full could be ugly.
And one guy posted a link of his story of how he did a marathon on eight weeks of training, the telling of which reads like “Ernest Shackleton II: This Time It’s Personal and Pretty Darned Angry.”
There is more, of course. Lots more. You should read all the comments, if you’re in the mood to be persuaded to not do something.
I Know Something You Don’t Know.
By nature or culture or choice, I am an over-sharer. It’s a useful trait for a blogger; I’m able to comfortably talk about things most people wouldn’t. Here’s the thing, though: I don’t over-share everything. At least, I haven’t yet.
One of my traits I haven’t really delved into so far, for example, is that I am in reality fairly tough-minded. I stick things out. Finish them.
Another of my traits is that I do these things cheerfully.
And I generally do them my own way, without taking a lot of stock in expert opinion.
And — maybe least important — I have one hell of a set of lungs and a pretty decent set of legs.
I am willing to bet these attributes, combined with my lack of training, against anyone who thinks I can’t or shouldn’t do a full marathon.
Here’s my specific bet: I will finish the Death Valley Trail Marathon (all jeep road, 2000 feet of climbing), and will beat the time I finished it last time I tried (4:39), seven years ago.
Seriously. Bet me. Tell me how much you’re willing to bet that a guy named Fatty who’s trained for practically no time at all won’t finish, or that I won’t finish in 4:38 or less. Tell me how confident you are in all your experts and experience vs. my pigheadedness, massive quads, and big lungs.
Whichever one of us loses donates that amount at the other’s LiveStrong account — or if you don’t have an account or want to have me donate to another worthy charity of your choice, note that in your comments and we’ll work something out.
To make a long story short, I’m ignoring everyone’s advice. I’m doing this race, and I’m foolish enough to believe that I will do it faster than the year I trained for it. And I’m willing to put my money where my mouth is.
Are you? Or are you chicken?
Post your bet in the comments section. I’ll reply with either an accept or decline (with explanation) for every serious bet.
Bear in mind though, one stipulation: Just as I — if I lose the bet — will pay up and will write a lengthy post about how wrong I was, if you lose the bet you must pay up and write a lengthy comment about how wrong you were.
Regardless, a few weeks from now we’ll have raised some money in the fight against cancer, and either I or a lot of you will eat some humble pie.
PS: If, on the other hand, you think I can do what I’m saying I can do, feel free to leave a comment saying that, as an incentive, if I finish the marathon in 4:38 or less, you’ll donate $X.XX to my LiveStrong Challenge. That would be very cool of you.