But there has been one show recently that’s reeled me in, hook, line and scalpel. The show is called The Swan, and for those who are unaware of what it’s about, it’s a show that takes self-proclaimed “Ugly Ducklings” and with the help of a team of surgeons, dentists, psychologists, dermatologists, personal trainers, and voodoo doctors, with probably a veterinarian and a magician thrown in for good measure, they are transformed into 21st century foxes over a three month period.

Every step of their transformation is documented, and then it’s tummy-tucked neatly into one-hour packages of television entertainment. At the end of each hour, the show culminates with The Reveal, where, after their three month period of going under the knife, drill, and fat-sucking syringes, spending hours a day at the gym, and subsisting on a 1200 calorie a day diet, they get to look at themselves in a mirror for the first time since the whole ordeal started. So far, they have all liked what they have seen.

But after the ugly ducklings join the program, and before they spread their wings and blossom into swans, there is a period of time that they look much worse than when they first go in. The bruises, burns, and bandages from the brow lifts, chin implants, radiation treatments, dental work, nose jobs and liposuction make them, for a while, look like the losing party in a Mike Tyson bar fight. At some point, almost all of them become emotional wrecks, and start having doubts about whether what they are doing is the right thing, but by the time they are ready to see themselves, they all truly look and feel wonderful.

In a running sense, for my whole running life, I have run as an ugly duckling. Ever since I committed to this running life in early 1982, I’ve mostly just gone out and run miles and miles without any particular agenda, or real goals. Sure, I’ve always wanted to run each race as fast as, or faster than the one before, and I’ve always considered myself a serious runner. If I’m preparing for a marathon, I might add 10 or 20 additional miles to my running week for a couple of months before the event. I can say with confidence that I’m a much healthier, and probably happier person today because of running than I would have been without it. But as for a plan to get me from an ugly duckling to a swan, I’ve never really had a game plan…Until now.

A couple of months ago, I got a coach and embarked in my first-ever real training program. I basically approached a coach who has had a great deal of success with other clients, and who is a top national age-group runner in his own right, and made a simple request. Get me to the starting line at Boston when I turn 50. I came to him as an ugly duckling, and asked him to turn me in to a swan.

My coach uses a tried and true training technique called Effort-Based Training. Without going into a lot of graphic detail in this month’s column, I’ll simply say that the whole program evolves around percentage of effort, an equation based on your resting and maximum heart rate. In other words, you run based on beats per minute, not minutes and seconds per mile. In order to successfully do this, you much wear a heart-rate monitor because perceived effort is not the same thing as real effort, and you have to adjust to all the variables each run, based on the feedback your monitor gives you. All 8-minute miles are not the same. Not by a long shot.

Once I gave my coach my heart rate thresholds, he developed the beginnings of a training program specific to my physiology and my long-term goal. I started wearing my heart-rate monitor on every run, and I started running as dictated on my training plan I immediately hated the new routine with a passion. On this plan, I was forced to do almost all my running at a snail’s pace compared to what I was doing on my own. Following the schedule had me running times a minute or two slower than I had been running on my own. And I’m not talking about two minutes slower per 5-mile run. I’m saying two minutes PER MILE slower than my typical run. After about two weeks of this nonsense, I actually called my coach one day and said “I quit!” I just wasn’t enjoying running this way, and it wasn’t even worth a trip to Boston to stick with it. I guess I was a lot like the ugly ducklings on the reality TV show who were ready to throw in their towels and go home because they felt they were getting worse, not better, and didn’t have the desire to do what was required to evolve into the swans they were promised to become. I felt much worse off after two weeks on my training plan than when I first came to him, and figured if I got out now, I could undo the “damage” he had created.

But he wouldn’t let me drop out of the program that easily, and with a little encouragement, and a little tweaking to the schedule, I agreed to stick with it a little bit longer. He reinforced what I already knew, which I guess is part of what a coach does, about the different phases of a training plan, and he reminded me that I am still in the first phase, which is building a good base. The thing that really stuck with me is that I didn’t need to be concerned with the average pace per mile at all, but just doing the miles within the training zone outlined for each run.

Since then, I’ve taken those words to heart, and have become a less rebellious student. I’ve bitten the bullet, and now accept that most of my miles are going to be 10 minute plus for a while. As the heat of summer sets in, forcing the heart to work harder, I may even slow some from here, but I’m okay with it. When I reviewed last month’s totals and realized that April yielded 160 miles, and it felt like an easy month, it helped appease me quite a bit. This month looks like it’s going to be close to 200 miles, and it still feels effortless, just the opposite of what I would have expected from something called effort-based training.

At this point in my training, I’m still very much the ugly duckling. In fact, much like the bruises, bandages, and burns of The Swan contestants as they are wheeled out of surgery, I’m looking much worse now than when I entered the program. At the very least, I’m much slower, anyway. And just like the ladies on the show, I have a lot of work to do, and not much time to do it, if I want to become The Swan.

It took me a couple of solid months before I really grasped the concept of running with my heart, literally, rather than with my head. But I’m adjusting, and I’m okay with slower miles now, when I see how quickly they are accumulating, and how easy it is to accomplish. At this point, I have complete faith in the program, even though I still can’t really make sense of how or why it works. I just have to put my trust in my surgeon in running shoes, and accept that this is a vital and important step which is required before I can proudly spread my wings and hold my head up high.

My own personal Reveal will take place on October 3rd, at The Twin Cities Marathon. Between now and then, I’ll probably learn more about my running and myself than I’ve learned during all the time I’ve been running up to this point. I realize I’m taking a chance about committing to document a journey before knowing that success is assured, but just like the Swans of reality TV fame, every step of my transformation will be documented here in this column. I plan to make this a success story, but there are no guarantees. As my coach has said, and recently reinforced after running a sub-par Boston this year in stifling heat, failure is something we must all experience at some point in order to learn, grow, and improve. But it would still be my preference to not experience it right away.

My goal for this year is a 3:45, which would be about a 15 minute PR at the distance. If things go according to plan, once I accomplish this, I’ll be doing it all again next year on October 2nd, 2005, which is my 50th birthday. Next time, my goal will be 3:35, good enough to get me to the starting line at Boston the following Patriot’s Day.

High Noon on the third Monday of April at the Hopkinton starting line. It’s not a bad time or place to be a swan.