No stirring anthem brought me home, and I didn't get a medal this time, but Sunday's 4-mile run clicked my odometer to 1000 miles. Oh yeah! It's the most ground I've ever covered in a year (or 49 weeks, as the case may be). That last mile down the Damen Avenue Bridge (that shiny red thing there) and back into Bucktown was more relief than anything else, since I'm still nursing reluctant quads, and the frigid but calm afternoon didn't do me any favors.
Mileage is nice but it ain't everything. Sure, I stayed consistent and quite often beat the temptation to sleep in or veg out. Some mornings, rest and recovery would've served me well. Your comfort zone narrows with age, meaning extreme heat and extreme cold takes a toll on already weary joints.
All that was easy to forget during Thanksgiving weekend in Miami. I glided through 13 of that week's (Week 48) 16 miles on sunny, mild mornings. R&R was the agenda pretty much the rest of the trip. Back in Chicago, three more runs on the warmer moments of an unseasonably cold early December week, gentle trips without major incident, brought me to the millennium mark.
What did I learn? My two major fitness goals-- logging 1000 miles and running a marathon-- are less compatible than expected. The marathon is best approached by alternating concentrated mileage and generous downtime. The other goal asks for steady mileage lest you fall behind. I'm taking the next week or two off, not going to even think about running. It's something I should have done last winter, anticipating the demands of June - October. At least it'll give me more time for reading and blogging.
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