I marked the first day of the last month of my thirties with a not-so-long long run, officially beginning the taper to my marathon as the last two weeks of training time until race day officially begins.
Yeah… two weeks.
I celebrated by leading an enthusiastic group back down to the still-very-new footbridge that had opened a couple days previous, symbolically and coincidentally meeting up with the run club across the river who had made a similar trek to the new link to explore our trails.
After my reasonably successful looooooong run last weekend, and combined with the utter exhaustion of diving into a full-on home renovation two weeks before a marathon, I opted to start my taper on the early end of the spectrum. Some people say ten days, some people say longer: I went with a bit longer.
At this point, another super-long run is not going to change my finish time any measurable amount, and in fact might just leave me burnt out and slower. I’ve done three epic-distance runs leading into this short span of time, and now it’s kinda out of my hands, other than staying healthy and not doing something stupid, like twisting my ankle or stepping on a nail inside my partially-deconstructed living room.