CARY RANDOLPH'S TOP TEN RULES FOR...
Plan that shit. Don't skip out for a thirty minute jaunt and say after the first mile or two, "Hmm, I think I'll run ten today!" This never works.
Run when you run best. Sure, we've all set our alarms for six a.m., vowing to complete a half-marathon with time to shower before brunch, but um, YEAH RIGHT. I run best in early evening. Find your magic hour and stick with it.
Turn down your iPod volume. Sounds counterintuitive, right? Well, you'll thank your lucky stars I suggested this when you round out mile sixteen and your ears aren't bleeding.
And on that note find a balance between the super peppy jams that help you speed up and more mid-tempo zen songs. A typical musical salad, for example, might swing from the National (zzzzz) to Phil Collins to Sublime to... Get the idea?
Hydrate thyself. Because you're probably hungover and need the water anyway.
If you plan to run more than thirteen miles, tuck a Gu pack in your sports bra. It will come in handy around mile ten when you start to ask yourself, "Why, God?"
Inform someone of your whereabouts. Look. I went to summer camp. What's the first thing you did before hitting the wilderness trail (to smoke cigs and make out)? You told your camp counselor where you were going and when to expect you back just in case a bear attacked you. Camp rules apply here. Bonus points if you find a make-out partner on or before your turn-around point.
Run in the sun. Now that I have a job and I never get to the beach except once in a royal blue moon, I rely on my weekend runs for melanoma time. That's right, I'll be rocking the racer back tan line all summer long, and you can too!
Talk to yourself. Count steps. Sing along with your iPod. Practice sign language. Play the license plate game. In other words, do whatever it takes to keep those hours entertaining.
Remember that all this bullshit --- all these sacrifices, all the cocktails left unsipped, the Friday nights spent scowling over a bottle of O'Doul's while your brosephs dive into the prosecco punch, the black toenails and chafed thighs and wind-burned cheeks and chapped lips and faded highlights and stinky sports bras and roadside vom sessions and cat calls from passing construction workers --- ALL THIS BULLSHIT will pay off in the form of one finisher's medal, one goody bag full of sunscreen packets, one tee shirt, one free bagel, and the incredible high you get when, come Monday morning, your coworkers ask, "How was your weekend?", and you can shrug your shoulders and stir your coffee and say, "Eh, I ran a marathon. How was yours?"
Jun 25th