53F, breezy, light showers. 3.5 mi easy pace, 2 mi MP, remainder moderate pace. I had a depressing thought today. (Right on schedule, marathon in less than 3 weeks.) Let's just say that for any runner there are different effort levels that correspond to their paces. "Very, very difficult" for 5K, "Fairly hard" for 10K pace, etc. And let's say that marathon pace could be called "hard but sustainable." Now what if those effort levels are the same for a really fast runner as they are for a slower one? (The ad with Ryan Hall's face is glaring at me this very moment.) In other words, what if the effort I use maintaining a 9:15 pace is the same as Ryan's effort at, what, 5:10? Or the same as a 2:50 marathoner (I'll call him George) churning out 6:30 pace miles. So, are we all running as fast as we can maintain for 26.2 miles or as fast as we can for the length of time we will spend running? What if it's the former? That would mean I have to work as hard as Ryan, or as George, but for 40% to 90% longer time! I was trying to wrap my brain around this when Whitney Houston came on my iTunes singing "One Moment In Time." I've laid the plan / Now lay the chance / here in my hand. Shut up Whitney. You have no idea. I don't know how I can verify this depressing theory, or more to the point, how I can nullify it. I can't get inside Ryan's or Gloria's head and feel how hard they are working when they run "marathon pace." And of course, I'm not talking about just some random pace that gets you across the finish line before they close the course. I'm talking about PRs and BQ's and such. The best I can do is to tell myself that they are working harder than I am, because time matters and they don't have to keep it up for over 4 hours. But there is something illogical about that, from a physics point of view. 26.2 miles, X mass.... Shut up, brain; sing on, Whitney. | 