Patience and Pace

I've been reading Amby Burfoot's daily Olympic blog entries. Over the last couple days, he has written quite a bit about pacing and patience. Patience is especially important during large, long races. At the beginning of a race, a runner can waste a lot of energy just trying to get out of the pack. An efficient runner, instead, is patient and stays with the pack till it spreads out and breaking away is easier. Energy levels are then maintained for running negative splits (each mile a bit faster than the previous one) and pushing the pace till the end.

Efficient use of energy as opposed to wasting energy on the stuff that just cannot be changed, like the compacted starting pack. I think of the AA motto: Give me the patience to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.

When racing, there are many variables that cannot be changed and those variables affect each runner differently. I, for example, am greatly impacted by humidity and cold; both make it very difficult to breathe and, thus, slow my pace by several seconds per mile. A runner's rule for running in the heat recommends increasing times by 30 seconds per mile for every five degrees above 60. That's about right when the humidity is also high, although heat alone doesn't seem to bother me that much. I can fight to maintain my usual pace, but in doing so waste a lot of energy, unnecessarily deplete oxygen levels and risk a DNF (did not finish) or worse.

Terrain also makes a difference. I ran four races in four days last week, three of them 5K. But the cross country 5K over grass and through trees was about 2.5 minutes slower than Thursday's 5K on the road; three minutes slower than the 5K on the asphalt drive through the shaded park of Gypsy Hill in Staunton. Nonetheless in three of the four races I was still the second female, and in one I was the third; so runners in all four races seemed to be affected by terrain and weather as much as I was. And the talk at the finish line confirms that assumption. To have wasted energy and effort fighting the conditions would have made little sense and gained little; and in the case of the cross country race, blazing across the difficult terrains would have only greatly increased my fall risk. Instead I exercised patience, knowing I wanted to race another day.

"Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. . . .Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly. I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize" (the Apostle Paul, I Cor. 9:25-27).

Adapting to conditions. Strict training. Purposeful running, not running aimlessly. Ruling over the body -- and, perhaps, ruling over those occasions where I give emotion full reign and, thus, allow impatience to overflow? Reducing the risk of a DNF.

Besides my usual running goals over the next couple weeks, I have several writing deadlines -- a different kind of race to be sure, but a race nonetheless. And I have a very unreliable Internet service. Yesterday when I most needed to get online before interviewing sources, no connection was available. I confess that patience DID not overflow, and energy was wasted on unchanneled emotion. Perhaps, over the next couple weeks, in all my races I'll do a better job enacting the principal of patience and be a better steward of my energy levels. After all I do not want a DNF in my writing goals, or in my life goals, any more than I want a DNF in my foot races.