First Steps

I guess I knew I always would do it. When I ran cross country in high school Coach Schwartz told me people weren't supposed to run marathons until after they were 18 becuase it would mess with their bone structure. I respected him and he knew a lot more about running than I did, so I told myself I would wait till after I was old enough.

So the first step after that landmark was finding the marathon. I remember descending into the depths of the library at BYU and plopping down at a computer after a long day of classes. My brain was dead, my body was exhausted and considering I ate breakfast before eight, only a granola bar three hours ago, and wouldn't be home for two more, I was starving. But I googled Boston Marathon Qualifiers. A blue home page pulled up and in a bottom left corner was a box with a list of races in Utah, certified by USTAF for Boston qualification. St. George, Utah, October 2, 2010.

The reality and feasability of it was so distinct in that moment, it suddenly didn't matter that I was hungry and tired and busy. I was going to run a marathon. And it was going to let me qualify for Boston.

Later, after that semester, I sat in the computer nook of my Topaz home and pulled up google again. The search engine pulled out a million and one websites with marathon training programs almost faster than I typed in the keywords, and I set off browsing through them. 10 miles here. 14 miles there. Sprints. Weights. Cross training. Nutrition this. Clothing that. How the heck was I supposed to know which one was the best one to follow?

And that's where Coach Schwartz came in again. You know how some people have so much passion for something that it doesn't matter the circumstance or the convenience level, they will do whatever is required to be even remotely associated with that passion for even a moment?That was Coach Schwartz. The passion? Running. And me. Or people like me, at least, people who he had sparked the fire under a long time ago, running back to him as the dependable sage upon the mountaintop, the guru with all the secrets and the compassion to share with those who would climb. It was the middle of June and I drove to his house around the corner from Ute Valley Park and the two of us drove to the nearest Starbucks. He ordered some delicious looking drink while I pulled out the crumpled copy of what I had judged to be the best training program online. I think he might have even scoffed when he saw it.

"Roy, I know you can run a lot more than this has people running. See how it goes back down to 10 miles after you just ran 18 the week before? That doesn't make sense. If you build the miles, you keep them there. And I know you can do this stuff. You're an animal. You are much better than this. This is a training program for babies, but you're tough. No, no, this week we should bump you up to 20."

Sip from the frappe-cappacuino-whatever-it-was.

"Ok, so you got threshold every Thursday. That's fast, you know how to push yourself. That's going to get up to 6 miles at one point. You can do that in your sleep."

Yikes. I hated threshold.

"Repeats will be good strength training and they'll serve as a good exercise to kick in those fast-twitch muscles. Probably do those on Monday. They'll be good recovery from your long runs on Saturdays."

It was like watching a wizard pull out some crazy spell from his sleeve while simultaneously stirring a powerful brew in his cauldron. And I was going to be the product of all that magic.

I translated all his excited scribbles and formulated a beautiful, color-coded schedule in a word document. Groups of miles and abbreviated descriptions of speed workouts fell across the page like the black boxes in a crossword puzzle, and I saved it under my documents folder.

Then I grabbed my shoes, laced them up, and headed out the door on my first training run for St. George.