This blog is about nothing.
Well, not exactly. It’s about something. But just as Seinfeld was a show about nothing that somehow managed to fill 180 episodes with something, this blog will try to make something out of the nothing that has been the last four months of running.
After Niagara Falls, I made a pact with myself that I would run twenty miles a week until the spring marathon training program started and, for the most part, I have done so. I also made the decision to go back into the gym and get back to strength training. So for nearly every week, it has been circuit training and five miles on the treadmill on Tuesdays and Thursdays and two outdoor runs on the weekends.
But when the weather in the northeast turned nasty, the weekend runs had to come indoors too. For a month now, my running shoes have only touched terra firma once, and even that run was cut short by snow and dangerously unplowed roads.
That’s a month of looking at a digital display to gauge pace. A month of inhaling sweaty, stale air. A month of Bill O’Reilly and Charles Krauthammer and Bret Baier staring down at me from the gym monitors. As I write, I have been looking at the long-range weather forecast. Apparently, Mother Nature does not give a snowflake that the gym walls are starting to close in or that my spring marathon training program kicks up to the next level this week.
Of course, I’ve been trying to find ways to change it up. The random workout setting on the treadmill has been kicking my gluteus on Thursday nights. And breaking forty minutes for five miles on a consistent basis on Tuesdays has given me hope that a PR or two may be in danger of falling this year.
But what’s really been keeping me going is the knowledge that I will reap the benefits of all this in the weeks and months to come. Maybe from all this drudgery and repetition and monotony–all this nothing–will come the strength and discipline that will form the foundation of a successful season.
Maybe something can come from nothing after all.