Contributed by: Rocket Girl (aka Jody)

Last night, I attended my first track practice in four weeks. I had three strikes against me: 1) I’m getting over a cold virus; 2) I’ve run exactly twice in four weeks; and 3) It’s blazing hot. (Seriously, how do people run outside of San Francisco? Running in Florida? That’s the third level of Hell.)

Last night, we were supposed to have a speaker talk to us about "Mental Toughness"–exactly the head game I’m missing–but she got caught in traffic and couldn’t make it in time. So we moved on to our assignments: 1200 at 80% speed; 400 recovery; 800 at 80%; 400 recovery; 400 at 80%; 400 recovery; 800 cooldown.*

I couldn’t find my watch yesterday, and it’s a blessing. I think my last 400 lap might have come near my target pace, but the first few were just awful. Hot, sweaty, dry, I’m sure it took me at least 3:30 to get around the track even once. I watched my pace group saunter into the distance, nearly lapping me on a recovery. I could list all those excuses–vacation, cold, heat–but when it comes down to it, I was just slow and tired. I considered skipping the cooldown so I could leave early.

My priorities are mixed these days: I’m training, yes, and I’d like to beat my previous time, but I also recently joined a go-go dance troupe . I’m missing my Saturday run so I can perform at a street fair . I’m doing Bay to Breakers , but I might run/walk it easy because I have another gig on Sunday night. Our weekly email from AE said the marathon is our primary priority these days, but honestly, it’s not mine. No one depends on me to run except for me, and sometimes that’s not enough.

My schedule ran through my head constantly last night, as the pacer asked if she’d see me Saturday (no) and the coaches remarked again on B2B being a secondary priority to the race. As I warmed up, I heard my name called, and saw Marcela, one of those twice-yearly city friends so many of us have. Our husbands worked together at Pena Pachamama , and we have dinner every six months or so. Last time I saw them was early January, before I even joined up with Athletic Endurance . She was thrilled to see me at the track, happy I’d gotten back into running. Last she’d heard I’d sworn it off.

Marcela, on the other hand, self-describes as "obsessed." She’s run two half-marathons before, and decided this year to run a full marathon. That’s admirable on its own, but, in her own words, "Training for a marathon is too hard to just do it to finish. You need a goal." That’s why, in two weeks, she’s running the San Diego marathon in hopes of qualifying for Boston . Her first marathon, and she’s hoping to qualify at an 8:30 pace. I am humbled, especially after watching her run.

She offered me a ride home, so while she finished her training–seven more laps to go–I walked. I’m learning three new dances this week, so I plugged in my iPod, walked around the track, and, subtly as I could, did the swim and the monkey. (I figured I’d look slightly less insane if I were walking, as opposed to standing still and spelling out S-W-I-M.) I probably walked an extra 3200 meters while I waited for Marcela, who would pass me at top speed; then I’d pass her, gasping, hands on knees on the sideline. We both waved, and I go-goed (go-went?) while she burst into speed again.

For her, it’s not worth it to train for something as long and brutal as a 26.2-mile run without having a real goal–in her case, qualifying for the Holy Grail of marathons. For me, training for a half-marathon is brutal, too, but I don’t have her head game. I’m easily distracted. I don’t have the confidence to believe I’ll ever qualify for anything. Crossing the finish line feels like enough. Or I don’t love running enough.

Perhaps if I hear the speech on "Mental Toughness"–or I hang out with Marcela more–that’ll change. In the meantime, though, I’m still just a two-to-three-day warrior, training only as much as I have to to cross the finish line. Which brings me to my question: are you a weekend warrior? Do you run because you have to, or because you love it? Is a marathon worth your time if your only goal is to finish?

*For the beginning runners out there "80%" was a concept that puzzled me for weeks; they’d say "80% effort," which to me, sounded like I’d only be using 80% of the effort I’d usually be putting into my long run. Which wasn’t right, because I was supposed to be working harder. Six weeks or so into training, I finally broke down and said "What does that MEAN?" and heard relieved assents from at least half the runners. They didn’t know either.

It’s pretty straightforward, actually: if your race pace is a 10-minute mile, then your 80% pace is an 8-minute mile. My 80% pace is 8:48. Four laps of 400–1600 meters–equals about a mile, so divide that by four, and you get my lap pace: 2:12. Easy-cheesy, and also fun for geeks like me: I spend a great deal of time calculating paces while I’m running. It’s blessedly distracting.