When I set out to run 2017 miles this year, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do it. In 2016, I’d run 1,450 miles, and I thought that was a lot. To top it off, in 2016, having started my running streak at the beginning of the year, I had run every day. That meant that I needed to add 567 miles in the same number of days (actually one less day, as 2016 was a leap year). Eek. Setting the intention was scary. Saying the goal out loud was even scarier. I remember when I told my husband my goal. His response: That’s a lot of miles.
I decided to make this official and sign up for Run the Year 2017 with Run the Edge. For a small sum of money, I got a t-shirt, medal, and some other goodies.
The smart people got friends together and created teams to split up the 2017 miles. Me? I guess I don’t have any friends that are silly enough to want to set such a goal. Or at least I couldn’t bring myself to ask them to join me. I was in the official Run the Edge/Run the Year 2017 Facebook group at the beginning of the year, and learned that some people decided that walking miles counted. That made perfect sense — not everyone runs. But, as for me, I decided to only count running miles (at least to start). I also learned that there were some people who decided to count all their daily steps. Again, that wasn’t going to be for me. That’s not to say that walking or steps were lesser than in any way — everyone starts where they are — it’s only to say that given my past exercise history, the most difficult challenge for me would be to only count running miles. And a challenge it would be. (Admittedly, counting daily steps would likely have done almost nothing for my mileage given I’m computer-bound most days for work. So if you logged serious mileage with daily steps, more power to you, you’re awesome!)
See the thing is, each of us could set our own rules, or own guidelines, or own set of parameters. Anyone could set this goal. It wasn’t necessary to sign up for Run the Year 2017 to do so. But for me, officially signing up seemed to be an important thing. Doing so made it official — like, really, really official. Quietly failing to reach a goal that no one knows about is much easier than failing to meet a goal I invested a small amount of money in. Plus, they sent me the medal and the official shirt at the beginning of the year. Having those in my possession meant only one thing, I had to finish. Otherwise, I’d have to burn them both.
I started the year off strong. I was on track to meet my goal, and all seemed well. Then Ironman training began, and honestly, that just took time away from running. I’m not the fastest runner (or cyclist or swimmer), so my miles take more minutes than the speedy bunnies out there. Squeezing in cycling and swimming, on top of daily runs, meant something had to give, and that thing was my mileage.
When I emerged in August on the other side of my Ironman race, I then took a bit of time to recover. December 31 still seemed far off. There was time to reach my goal. Wasn’t there? Procrastination is in my nature. It’s not a trait of which I’m proud. But it’s a trait I’ve battled with in the past. And this year, battle we would.
Time goes by fast. Before I could blink, it was October. Crap. My year-to-date mileage after my run on September 30th was 1,381 miles. Uhm, I had to run 636 miles in 3 months, or in other words, in 92 days (thank goodness for October and December having 31 days). That averaged out to nearly 7 miles a day. Oof. In some ways, it didn’t sound bad. But in other ways, it sounded nearly impossible. I told my husband what I had to do reach my goal. His response: That’s a lot of miles.
This is when the negotiation in my brain started. Maybe I should count walking miles. Maybe I should adjust my goal, I mean, what does it matter anyway. Maybe I can run 3 times a day. Maybe 2 times a day? I have a race at the beginning of December, that will surely help my mileage, right?
I think during most of my runs from October until I reached my goal, I was doing some sort of math in my head. Trying to figure out how running .5 more miles now, would help me later. Or trying to figure out if I run a mile less now, when will I make it up later. Lunch? Dinner?
In the end, I decided not to count walking miles. That was how I started the year off, that was how I was going to end it. The rule I set for myself was to count intentional miles running toward my goal of 2017. [Yes, there are times when I walk during my runs. For instance, my running group uses the Galloway walking break method, where we run 5 minutes, and walk 1 — those miles still count. No shame in walking.]
I started adding in a mile at lunch every now and then with my dogs. Those miles definitely helped. And my dogs loved them. Or, I would go for a 2 or 3 mile run at lunch or in the evening. If I felt up for running — and even sometimes even when I didn’t feel up for running — I’d lace up and head out the door. Slowly but surely, my mileage went up, and 2017 was getting closer and closer.
In October I managed 179 miles. That made 1,560 miles for the year. 457 miles to cover in 2 months time. Holy smokes. Father time wasn’t playing. I had to take charge of my mileage, or this goal wouldn’t be reached. And if that happened, what would I do with the medal and shirt I already have? I mentioned the possibility of burning them earlier, but given California is incredibly fire-prone, that could actually cause a state-wide emergency. The only option was to take November by storm. So I did.
In 41 runs, over 30 days, I ran a smidge over 250 miles. That was the most mileage I’d ever done in my life in that period of time. I had no idea I was capable of it. And for the most part my body was holding up. It was difficult. But worth it. That left 207 miles for December. While still a lot of miles, I just proved to myself 250 miles was possible, so 207 miles must be possible too, right?
I started the month off racing CIM (California International Marathon). My goal there was to complete the race, uninjured and smiling. I had been told by many people this course was fast, so I decided to run with the 4:37 pace group. I had run a 4:37:40 marathon back in May (Mountains to Beach Marathon), so although most of my mileage is run at a slower pace, I thought I would try for a 4:37 race time. Apparently, all my “slow” miles over the past several months were good for my legs, and I have to say good for the mental part of a marathon too. I finished in 4:35:40 (10:32/mile pace). A new personal record. Me = beyond happy.
After the race, the wildfires hit in Southern California, and air quality was less than ideal for running. That forced me inside for a couple of days to use the treadmill. I still completed an outdoor mile each of those days. There were no excuses to be made. Only miles to run.
I accomplished my goal of 2017 miles on December 29th, with just a couple days to spare. (Can you tell I used to do all my term papers at the last minute in college?). I ran in rain, in cold, in wind, in smoke, in the dark, in the gym, sometimes with headaches or other aches, and sometimes while sick. But I also ran in perfect weather, saw beautiful sunrises and sunsets, was inspired by other runners and cyclists I met on my local roads, experienced amazing things, listened to great podcasts and books, and discovered that I’m capable of doing much more than I ever thought.
Reaching this particular goal means a lot to me. For some reason, it’s difficult to consider myself a “real runner” — whatever that is. I am slow by comparison. I run less miles than others. My form isn’t textbook. I still don’t know if I’m “doing it right.” But none of that really matters, because in 2017, I ran two thousand and seventeen miles. And that is enough.
Oh, when I reached my goal, my husband’s response: That’s a lot of miles. Then, we celebrated my win with cupcakes.
PS: Here are the stats from Strava right after I hit 2017 miles: 363 days, 402 runs, 376 hours and 1 minute, 2017.4 miles.
