Knock, Knock. Who's There? Marathon. Marathon Who?

It's hot. It's humid. It's sticky. Anyone with an ounce of sense would stay inside with the air conditioning on full blast until December. Which can mean only one thing...

IT'S MARATHON TRAINING TIME!!

That's right boys and girls. Time to get your run on! I've signed up to race the inaugural Savannah Rock-N-Roll Marathon on November 5th. Bands are stationed at every mile to pull runners through the race. From experience, I will say it's amazing what a little music can do to lift the spirits and make you forget (momentarily) about what an idiot you are for signing up for a marathon in the first place. I'm very much looking forward to being distracted throughout this race.

I'm also excited to start training, which is surprising. I haven't really been "feeling" my runs lately. Lots of whining and way too much walking. But for some reason, today I got really excited about training for this race. Maybe it's because I pulled my training plan out. I've formed my own little cult around the training plan I use, the Furman "Run Less, Run Faster" plan. I've used it in my last three marathons and have improved in each race. If you have any anal-retentive leanings, this is the plan for you. Tells you exactly how far to run and at what pace. No questions, no exceptions. My God, I love a plan with rules. 

I'm using the Furman plan to train for a 3:35 in Savannah. My last marathon in February at Myrtle Beach was a 3:38:38. Similar to what I've been told about childbirth, the pain of a marathon quickly fades and one is left with a marred recollection of the event. I see 3:38 now and think, "I can beat that," conveniently forgetting that I probably would have downed a cyanide pill at mile 22, had one been made available to me. 

Training officially starts on Monday, July 25th. I'm ready. Bring on those tempo's and intervals and 20-mile runs. I love exercising to the point of complete exhaustion and dehydration.

Marathon training in the South in July. Does it get any better?

Cheers,

Dena