I wound up putting in 7 and a half miles at Lake Miramar yesterday evening, so I won't be running today. Instead, I'll do my long run tomorrow morning, most likely joining Christy and Michael from Cadence for an 18-miler around Mission Bay. I want to do a little more than that, so I hope to get there about an hour early, warm up and put in 4 miles before rendezvousing with them at the parking lot at the jetty. Christy says they're planning an about an 8:45 minute mile pace, which would be good. I don't know why, but I seem to lock in on 8 to 8:15/mile. Faster than that and I won't really last much beyond 10 miles. Slower, and I feel like I'm barely shuffling. I do find I'll slow to around 8:45 to 9:00 naturally towards the end of my long runs as I tire. If I can just learn how to keep that pace early on, I might be able to reverse that trend and finish strong at the end of 20 or 22.
I'm coming to the realization, I think, that to improve, I'm going to have to learn or teach myself better efficiencies in form, similar to what happened with my swimming when I took Will's masters swim class last October. I now swim faster with less effort thanks to some key tweaks in my stroke. After watching the elite runners last weekend, you can just see how they glide and what distinguishes their gait from the average grunt runner.
When I run with any kind of tempo, I have a perception that I've got fluid form and visualize that I must look like I'm cruising. Funny, then, when I see myself recorded or in a reflection or a shadow, I look like I'm just out for a jog. My legs aren't butt-kicking like I think they are. My lean isn't right. I'm bobbing and shuffling like an amateur. It totally runs counter to what I think is happening when I see it in my head.
Same is true for swimming. I know what my time is because it's an objective measure, and I think I can keep up with intermediate speedsters in the water. And when I'm stroking, I think I must look like I'm just flying. But I saw myself recorded and was shocked to see that I looked like I was just out for a stroll. My turnover looked leisurely and I wasn't jetting though the water like Flipper. I was kind of disappointed. I don't want to just be better. I want to look better too.
I'm a little embarrassed by that. I should be beyond worrying about what I look like. Yet I'm not. It's like surfing. I love to surf for the feeling I get while riding. But I care about aesthetics too, and I don't want anyone watching and judging me to be ungainly or awkward. It's the same for me when running (or swimming). I don't want to just have the performance improvements. I want to look the part too.
I'm overstating, and probably not as bad as I think I am. But there IS something to correlating the look and performance. I believe that if I can smooth out my stride and improve my efficiencies, it'll be reflected in a gait that looks more elegant, speedy and effortless. I was really awestruck by the elite runners at the Carlsbad 5000. They run completely differently from the rest of us hacks who are covering the ground at half their speed.
Bah! Enough of that.
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