What next?
For the year ahead, I plan to ease off in January and February, bringing the weekly total down to about 30 to 50 km for a while. In March and April, I'd like to build toward 100 to 120 km and aim for a sub-three-hour marathon in Kingsford in May. Perhaps I'll even get to run the Pyongyang Marathon. That would be an unusual experience.
Come summer, I'd like to try Kipchoge's kind of training volume for a little while, just to see what that world feels like. Not his pace, obviously, but perhaps the distance. I won't know where my limits are until I explore them. It might do nothing for me, or it might be too much. Either way, I'm curious enough to want to find out.
I hope to run one of the Majors. My times seem to be approaching the relevant standards, but there are many hopeful runners, and getting in may still depend on a lottery or other entry requirements. Berlin is the one I keep picturing. If that doesn't happen, I'll choose a few beautiful races elsewhere in Europe or Asia.
I dream of a running camp in Iten, Kenya. I've been to Kenya and don't picture a luxury vacation. I liked the country very much, though, and there's something almost magical about the thought of running where the champions train.
I also hope to get my children and a few more friends into running.
To finish
I won't end by telling you that anything is possible if you believe in yourself. It isn't. Work hard, make good choices, and you can improve. But we all have limits.
Age, sex, surroundings, coaching, temperament, upbringing, and countless strokes of luck all play a part. Some things can change; others cannot. Champions often begin with unusual gifts, then meet circumstances that bring those gifts into sport. Hard work matters enormously, but we don't all start from the same place.
And that's fine. This book isn't for champions. It's for people who love adventures.
Running is a wonderful adventure. It lets me explore the world and find out what I'm made of. Feeling fully alive matters more than another personal best. New friendships matter more than another medal on the wall. And reaching a goal feels good all by itself. Thoreau wrote in Walden, "I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately." I get that. My version happens to involve running shoes.
At the end of another running year, I'll record another video saying I ran every day. I'll dream of new marathons, new workouts, and new places to see on foot. I'll listen to my body, to new books, to new music. I'll admire all those runners faster than me and gently tease the ones who are slower. Yes, there are a few. Running has become a goal in itself. I hope there are many more runatic years ahead.
THE END