When To Say When
There I am, two thirds done of my last long run before I taper for the Boston Marathon, it’s really hot and humid – I’m talking 90 degrees with the humidity in the 70% range, and I’m at a crossroads. I’m feeling pretty beat up from the conditions, I just know my hydration pak is probably near empty and I’m running into the sun with no shade to duck into. But my training plan called for twenty two miles and I really wanted to get it done to feel that I’ll be ready to go on race day. I just ran twenty miles two weeks prior, but it’s not twenty two and I need to get twenty two done. Plus, I don’t know what race day weather will be like and if I quit, who’s to say I won’t quit race day. But the heat/humidity is sapping all the energy. I wished I had water to dump on my head, to cool off. But I’m self supported on this run, as I am every other run, so wishes remain wishes.
The last liquor store is coming up, and I’ve been run-walking the last two miles. From there it’s a good stretch until I reach another spot to pick up water and it’s more running directly into the sun with no shade in the urban streets with the asphalt kicking heat back up to me. I can either pop into the liquor store, pick up some more water and trudge on for the last four and half miles, or make the decision to pull the plug and call wifey to pick me up. “But you’re John Beast!” “But this is a different kind of heat and it’s just a training run.” “But you’ve finished two half Ironmans with temps close to this and out there way longer than this.” Two of my good friends had recently posted about similar situations with the heat and how they called it quits earlier than anticipated. “If they’re smart enough to know when to say when, you need to be too. Trust in your training, trust in your fitness, you’ll be fine for race day. You’ll have support for race day.” “But it’s just four and a half miles, you can do it!” “But, what if you end up with heat stroke, then you won’t be racing anything, anytime soon.” “But I’m still sweating, I think. My head isn’t foggy.” “Four and a half miles won’t make or break your training.” My mind is bouncing back and forth, flitting between one thought and another. I finally come up upon the liquor store and I tell myself, “Eff it. Call it.” “Eff it” isn’t exactly what came out my mouth, but you get what I mean. I stop my Garmin and hit save so I’m not tempted to keep going. I mask up, pop into the store and pick up some cold drinks to cool down my internal body temp, rehydrate, and get some energy in me. I sigh, slightly defeated, but knowing I made the right decision and call my wife to pick me up.
Ego and pride almost clouded better judgment this past Saturday. As an endurance athlete, I always tell people that a big part of the sport is pain management – learning how to decipher between what’s injurious pain where you should stop activity and what is just uncomfortable pain that you need to muster through and keep going. Sometimes, that distinction isn’t always clear, especially when in situations like mine this past weekend. I thought I felt pretty good, but I also knew that things could go downhill really fast. I could’ve put myself in a really bad situation and not because of any sort of immediate issue that popped up but rather the slow degradation of health that I wouldn’t have been able to catch and save myself from. There are definitely push days where you just have to suck it up and carry on when the weather is horrible, but usually those days have better controllables – you’re on a track with extra supplies at hand or you have a workout buddy to watch each other’s backs for instance. In my situation, I had neither, so it was best that I did call it a day. And while mentally it would have been great to say I finished 22 miles in really adverse conditions, how much fitness do I gain from it? Does the two mile difference between the 20 miles I did two weeks prior and the 22 I had hoped to finish really signify that I’m marathon ready? No. Many marathon plans have a range of 18-24 miles that one would finish as their highest mileage long run, so I’m still in that range. Plus it ain’t my first rodeo. I know what to expect on race day, I’ll have course support and I’ll have the opportunity to suck it up then. While there won’t be all the hoopla typical this time around, when you’re in the thick of it and really trying to push on, all the race crowds in the world won’t help you pull yourself out of the dregs of your own mind and inner turmoil better than your own self to keep going. So while I was a little bummed, again, I knew I made the right call.
There’s still plenty of hot days planned, so if you find yourself in a similar pinch, I hope you read this, take it to heart and remember to think of the big picture of what you’re training for and your greater overall health in general. Here is a reminder of the signs of heat stroke:
High Fever (over 103˚)
You stop sweating
Fatigue, agitation, confusion or stupor
Rapid heart rate
Nausea or vomiting
Warm, dry skin
Be sure to carry plenty of fluids and to drink them more frequently than you typically do. You’ll be sweating a lot more which means, you’ll be losing sodium and more prone to muscle cramps so make sure you have the necessary electrolytes or salt tablets to keep that from happening. Wear a hat and/or shades to protect your eyes from the sun’s glare. If comfortable, wear a long sleeved tech top to keep the sun off you more. Be sure to also protect your skin and wear sunblock. Even if you’re naturally brown skinned like me, you can still get sun burned and that ain’t fun. Keep all these things in mind while you’re out there grinding it out the rest of these summer days. Happy running!
