My Journey to the Walt Disney World Marathon — Part Four: The Mental Game
The mental challenges of long-distance running.
It’s a Mental Game.
On Sunday my training says to run 23 miles. Knock on wood, I’m pretty confident that I can pull it off, though I suspect my shambling finish won’t be pretty. It doesn’t have to be. When I started on this journey, Coach Chris Twiggs at Jeff Galloway’s Customized Training asked me what my goal was.
“To cross the finish line,” was my bold response.
And that is where I still stand (though my speed has improved a little over the months).
To recap, I am 56. I am 6'11" (not a typo). I have low grade prostate cancer. I have a big metal rod through my right tibia from a severe break about five years ago.
Finishing is just fine.
What has happened recently in this journey, though, is that the physical challenges, which are still significant, have taken a back-seat to the mental ones. I am sure that each runner has their own set of mental hurdles to get past, we share some, and some are completely unique to each one of us. I cannot emphasize this enough: they are ALL VALID! You may need convincing that you’re going to be ok after that last mile. You may be really freaked out about how you’re going to get dinner on the table for your family on days when you’re on the trail for five hours. Your personal mental hurdles are as much who you are as your strengths, and who you are as an individual is someone I would be proud to know.
I am an old school Star Trek guy; so bear with me if I share one of my favorite quotes from the original (best) series:
“In this galaxy there’s a mathematical probability of three million Earth-type planets. And in all the universe three million million galaxies like this. And in all of that and perhaps more, only one of each of us.” — Dr. McCoy, “Star Trek — Balance of Power”
Ok, here’s some of the mental hurdles I’m facing. See if any of these resonate with you.
Boredom — Yeah, after being out on the trail for a few hours, boredom sets in. No podcast or audiobook or music is enough to keep my mind from going a little nutso with the repetition. To quote fake-Randy Newman from “Family Guy”, “Left foot, right foot, left foot right foot.”
And here’s the thing, I’m a practicing Buddhist (card-carrying) and I meditate a LOT. I have sat still and quiet for hours at a stretch on a regular basis. This is different, though. It can really feel relentless.
I don’t believe that you can fight boredom, but I do believe that you can make friends with it. I understand that my boredom wants to take me away from where I am and what I’m doing to find something new and novel to concentrate on. Sometimes it’s worth asking, “Well, brain of mine, what is it that you would rather be doing?” That can turn into an interesting internal discussion while you continue to put one foot in front of the other foot.
(Warning, try to keep discussions with your own brain internal if there are other people around. Otherwise things can get awkward. Don’t ask me how I know.)
Fears — There are a lot of fears that can pop up in this process. Since I’m in my fifties and have broken my leg in the last decade, the fear of hurting myself is always there at some level or another. Also, let’s be really frank, this Disney World trip is expensive. I live in California and getting there, paying for lodging and park tickets for a few days as well as the steep race entry fee pushes right up against the border of our family’s fiscal comfort zone. My wife and kid have supported me in this because they know it’s important to me, but this will likely be my last time attempting the Walt Disney World marathon. Unless there is some sort of windfall, we won’t be able to afford it again. The fear of failing this one chance I have to do it is something I contend with quite a bit.
That said, fears are really useful if you heed their warnings and don’t succumb to their potential to cascade. I know I have some physical frailties, so I’m careful. I do some yoga and pilates (and SupernaturalVR) to build up my supporting muscles. I make sure my shoes are good and I protect my knees. I pay attention to my nutrition (mostly — 80/20 rule). I stay in touch with my doctor as best I can and see a chiropractor every once in a while. I take pain very seriously so that it doesn’t turn into something worse. And, most importantly, I do my training miles when they are scheduled at the pace at which they a prescribed.
Worry — This is different from fear, and less useful. I’m going to call fear “a concern that is generally reasonable,” and worry, “the brain looking for something to explain away its own doubt and discomfort.” Worry is, what if I don’t have it in me today to do these miles? Does this trip cost too much? Am I spending too much time away from my family doing this training? What if running one more mile is too much for me; should I stop now? Did I fuel enough for today? Did I leave the oven on? Are the dogs going to be ok if I’m gone running for six hours?
You see how that goes?
The antidote for my worries is planning. The time is set aside to do the runs and the schedule is available for everyone in my household to see. The partnership between myself and my wife accounts for loose ends like pets and stoves and preparation of meals. The money is set aside. Fueling has taken some trial and error, but is relatively consistent.
I can’t account for everything, but I can plan enough to quiet my worries when they rise and want a little attention.
This is just a sample of the mental challenges that training for this marathon has offered me. As the training ramps up I expected that the focus of the journey would become more and more about the physical, but that hasn’t been borne out by my experience. The running is, no question, getting harder, but the mental challenges are just, if not more, intense.
Let’s all take in what we’re doing here, physically and mentally, and appreciate the hell out of ourselves for doing it, shall we?
I would be doing some good people a disservice if I didn’t mention the surprising help I received from the fine citizens running the Mare Island Wildlife Preserve and its attendant trails. When I began to struggle with finding a place to do my much longer training runs, and I discovered that the nearby San Pablo Bay Trail was only sporadically open, I reached out to the person in charge for some clarification. She did me one better. She gave me the key to the gate. I am so grateful to be able to open the trail early for myself and other runners on similar journeys.
The prior entries in this series are here:
My Journey to the Walt Disney World Marathon — Part One: Getting to Registration Day
My Journey to the Walt Disney World Marathon, Part Two — Too Much Actually IS Too Much
My Journey to the Walt Disney World Marathon — Part Three: The Dog Days of Summer
Thank you so much for reading. If you feel especially appreciative and would like to support me in this journey, consider dropping a few bucks into the kitty:
https://ko-fi.com/kellymccubbin
From northern California to Orlando ain’t cheap.
And if you’re a runner and just want to say “Hey!” please don’t hesitate to reach out.
If you are enjoying this series and would like to read more of my writing about Disney and other stuff, check my bio site with the links to my most recent articles:
