Workouts are a funny thing. You can do the same one a thousand times with completely different results each time, or hit the same times and feel completely different.
A few weeks ago, we ran 8x200 w/ 60s recovery ON THE DOT @ 800m goal pace. I threw on my Victories - the fastest spike in the business. It was a beautiful day. 70 degrees, 0 wind. Sunshine. Just a great day to run.
I took the first one hard. It felt horrible, and I ran the rest of the workout head spinning, barely managing 30's for all of them, completely out of breath. I threw up and collapsed over the bushes on the outskirts of the track. This was a Monday. I was sore and tired for 3 days after that.
About 6 days later I ran 1:57.9 going 59.1-58.8 well off the back of a pack I should easily be able to keep with (PR of 1:56). My legs felt cold, I wasn't confident in my speed, and I went out way too slow. Seriously I don't think I've been through the first quarter that slow since Sophomore year of HS.
But I digress. Today, we did 10x200 w/ 60s rest ON THE DOT @ 800m goal pace. It was 50 degrees, overcast, with a VERY demonic headwind on the backstretch that just followed you around the turn, clinging to your body like a screaming adolescent. We had a morning run that I took too quickly, and my legs were.....not tired, but I could definitely feel the ~5miles @ just over 6min pace I had run about 5 hours earlier. This is a Wednesday.
I threw on my Lunas (lightweight flats), and drafted the first one. Too slow by about half a second. Damn. On each consecutive rep, I was supposed to be hitting 29.0. I Starting at 29.4, and every rep got faster and faster. As I got more and more tired due to the quick turnover and lack of rest, I simply leaned forward, took it out, and pumped my arms. After the 9th one BARELY over 28, the wind gusted hard and my teammates groaned. This was going to be a doozy of a last rep.
This is where I made a decision to just pour whatever I had left into this rep. I put my head down and sprinted off the line as the last rep got going, and ran JUST over 27 flat. We did wind sprints and weight afterwards, and cooled down twice, after running and after weights.
My legs feel great.
I have a race on Saturday.
I have a plan.
I have confidence in my speed.
I'll let you know how it goes.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
The Deep, Deep Burn
I, am a middle distance runner.
I thrive on 300's, 400's, even 600's if the day is right.
But when coach tells us to take an easy day friday, that always means one thing on Saturday. The Time Trial.
Every month or two, we do a 4 1/2 mile Time Trial around the campuses. The course isn't really difficult at all, but it gets to you. There's a long, sloping uphill, then long downhill, the up a little, the long down, the long up, then finish on the track.
I hate these runs with a passion.
For a middle distance runner, these LONG tempos are incredibly hard. God they are long.
You reach the two mile mark just before you turn to run down the longest straight, and all I can think is "oh god oh god comon keep pushing you're halfway there. only halfway? yes only halfway but you have 12 more minutes you fucker you give me 12 more minutes. But that's over 2 miles! I dont care don't think about it like that it's just 12 minutes. now go. GO. GO.
The intense fire makes sense to me as I tear the track to pieces, kicking off the bend.
But this Fire....the deep, deep burdening pain, just destroys you. It get's a tiny bit worse every 10 seconds or so, but basically it's just dealing with a slowly twisting knife, implanted into my gut.
Colors become more defined as I get delusional, confusing me. But no time for that, I have to focus on this pain and how to MAKE IT GO AWAY.
All of the sudden I'm on the track and this is home, oh god I can count the meter I have left just lift your legs and push one last time, catch one more person jesus it hurts, just for 45 more seconds. Okay 44 more seconds. 43...42....41...
As soon as you cross the line you're done and pushing mode is off immediately. I sit down on the bench and curse the California heat, even though it's 8 am and its really not that hot, I just want someone to blame for my pain.
Because as soon as I stand up, my body lets me know what I did to it. That deep, deep burn doesn't simply "go away." It stays there, and I don't want to eat but I know I have to, all I want to do is drown in a pool of Gatorade and sleep, sleep, sleep.
Every time I do this workout, there is a goal time for me to hit. And I always just hit it.
Does it bother me that destroying every part of my body I hold dear is....expected? That they KNOW I will kill myself, and they plan accordingly?
You bet your ass it does.
But I do it anyway.
Because it has to get done.
I thrive on 300's, 400's, even 600's if the day is right.
But when coach tells us to take an easy day friday, that always means one thing on Saturday. The Time Trial.
Every month or two, we do a 4 1/2 mile Time Trial around the campuses. The course isn't really difficult at all, but it gets to you. There's a long, sloping uphill, then long downhill, the up a little, the long down, the long up, then finish on the track.
I hate these runs with a passion.
For a middle distance runner, these LONG tempos are incredibly hard. God they are long.
You reach the two mile mark just before you turn to run down the longest straight, and all I can think is "oh god oh god comon keep pushing you're halfway there. only halfway? yes only halfway but you have 12 more minutes you fucker you give me 12 more minutes. But that's over 2 miles! I dont care don't think about it like that it's just 12 minutes. now go. GO. GO.
The intense fire makes sense to me as I tear the track to pieces, kicking off the bend.
But this Fire....the deep, deep burdening pain, just destroys you. It get's a tiny bit worse every 10 seconds or so, but basically it's just dealing with a slowly twisting knife, implanted into my gut.
Colors become more defined as I get delusional, confusing me. But no time for that, I have to focus on this pain and how to MAKE IT GO AWAY.
All of the sudden I'm on the track and this is home, oh god I can count the meter I have left just lift your legs and push one last time, catch one more person jesus it hurts, just for 45 more seconds. Okay 44 more seconds. 43...42....41...
As soon as you cross the line you're done and pushing mode is off immediately. I sit down on the bench and curse the California heat, even though it's 8 am and its really not that hot, I just want someone to blame for my pain.
Because as soon as I stand up, my body lets me know what I did to it. That deep, deep burn doesn't simply "go away." It stays there, and I don't want to eat but I know I have to, all I want to do is drown in a pool of Gatorade and sleep, sleep, sleep.
Every time I do this workout, there is a goal time for me to hit. And I always just hit it.
Does it bother me that destroying every part of my body I hold dear is....expected? That they KNOW I will kill myself, and they plan accordingly?
You bet your ass it does.
But I do it anyway.
Because it has to get done.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
The Laziness....
I'm still fighting a sickness, and today we did a very tough track workout with little recovery, and it was astronomically hard. Didn't run as well as I would like, and cooled down, did plyos and headed straight back to my dorm.
Now, I live on the 3rd floor of my Dorm. There are 8 floors in total, and there's approximately 25 stairs that separate me from my floor, and about 9 more steps that separate the stairwell from my specific room.
That being said, I can't remember the last time I took the stairs. I think I was late for class. And I think I immediately regretted it.
"Quinn don't you, like, run track? harhar"
^most frequently spoken words whenever I'm in the elevator. Joking aside, this happens about 1.7 times a day. Yes that is an estimate. Spare me.
If you were to follow around or attach something to two people and measure their physical activity in a day, lets say to A) a runner and B) an uppidy teenage girl, you would find interesting results.
On second thought, don't do that study. I'll tell you what would happen:
A) The runner's average walking speed would be 2-4mph slower than the uppidy teenager.
B) In a single week, the uppidy teenager would ascend about 16x more stairs than the runner.
C) The amount of time spent sitting would be 2-3x greater in a runner than in the uppidy girl.
D) As the uppidy teen approaches stairs, she will lean forward and BOUND HER WAY UP OH JOY ITS AN EXHILARATION! The runner would sigh, look for another way to get around the stairs, and mumble profanities as he/she took the stairs one turtley-step at a time, maybe even sideways to preserve the quad or calf muscle.
Also, runners would stretch. EVERYWHERE. In class, on stairs, while walking, while eating, while playing pool, while IN a pool, while doing homework, while typing a blog, EVERYWHERE.
We run, we're tired. Why would I climb a single stair when I know I have either done or will do a hard 10-miler that day? Why would I spend an iota more energy than I have to? I'm tired. Stop asking me questions. I feel like a crochety old man, and mrs. congeniality doesn't help my morose mood after I run like crap.
I may be a little harsh here, but those thoughts go through all runners heads when being made fun of for "laziness." Can I help it if my first thought is "BITCH GET ON MY LEVEL" ?
But no, I'll smile and chuckle (mostly because you're hot), and slump down in my chair or bed and nap.
My first class every day is about 500m away.
And it takes me 10min to walk there.
I'm just enjoying the view, I swear.
Now, I live on the 3rd floor of my Dorm. There are 8 floors in total, and there's approximately 25 stairs that separate me from my floor, and about 9 more steps that separate the stairwell from my specific room.
That being said, I can't remember the last time I took the stairs. I think I was late for class. And I think I immediately regretted it.
"Quinn don't you, like, run track? harhar"
^most frequently spoken words whenever I'm in the elevator. Joking aside, this happens about 1.7 times a day. Yes that is an estimate. Spare me.
If you were to follow around or attach something to two people and measure their physical activity in a day, lets say to A) a runner and B) an uppidy teenage girl, you would find interesting results.
On second thought, don't do that study. I'll tell you what would happen:
A) The runner's average walking speed would be 2-4mph slower than the uppidy teenager.
B) In a single week, the uppidy teenager would ascend about 16x more stairs than the runner.
C) The amount of time spent sitting would be 2-3x greater in a runner than in the uppidy girl.
D) As the uppidy teen approaches stairs, she will lean forward and BOUND HER WAY UP OH JOY ITS AN EXHILARATION! The runner would sigh, look for another way to get around the stairs, and mumble profanities as he/she took the stairs one turtley-step at a time, maybe even sideways to preserve the quad or calf muscle.
Also, runners would stretch. EVERYWHERE. In class, on stairs, while walking, while eating, while playing pool, while IN a pool, while doing homework, while typing a blog, EVERYWHERE.
We run, we're tired. Why would I climb a single stair when I know I have either done or will do a hard 10-miler that day? Why would I spend an iota more energy than I have to? I'm tired. Stop asking me questions. I feel like a crochety old man, and mrs. congeniality doesn't help my morose mood after I run like crap.
I may be a little harsh here, but those thoughts go through all runners heads when being made fun of for "laziness." Can I help it if my first thought is "BITCH GET ON MY LEVEL" ?
But no, I'll smile and chuckle (mostly because you're hot), and slump down in my chair or bed and nap.
My first class every day is about 500m away.
And it takes me 10min to walk there.
I'm just enjoying the view, I swear.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Lesson 2: Training
Yesterday was a very hard day on the track. Today was a base run on the short side (non-runners, base basically means just a normal run), but we took it quick (6.5 miles @ 6:10ish pace in the SoCal heat). Tomorrow will be another hard-ish day on the track, with a morning run.
In highschool, this three-day stretch would be astronomically difficult. Now, all I can think is "I should be doing more." Kenyans train 3 times a day, or so I've heard. If I were to do that now, I would run myself into the ground, get hurt, and my season would be over.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is the fundamental angst associated with running. I can build up to running, HARD, three times a day. But to get to that point will take SOOOOO LOOOOOOOONG. I'm talking 3-5 more years AT THE VERY LEAST.
The Pain is not just something to push over, its a quelling force. It's your body telling you to stop what you're doing, before you say fuck it and kick off the bend.
Training helps diminish the Pain. But the Pain is a sneaky little bastard, it knows the next place to go, the next weakness you have to exploit.
Good at short intervals? The Pain moves to LSD's (long slow distance runs). Train Train Train Train Train. Good at LSD's now? The Pain moves to Tempo runs. Train Train Train Train Train Train Train. Good at Tempo runs now? The Pain moves to long intervals on grass. Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train. Good at long intervals? The Pain moves to Fartlek workouts. Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train. Careful now......are you still good at short intervals? Were you ever good at short intervals? Do you EVEN REMEMBER?
Train.
Running is a mix of all of these. The Training is the mallet in the hand of the whack-a-mole player, but if you're not quick enough, the same damn mole pops its head up before you can whack it back down. Sometimes, you let the closest mole pop its head while your hitting the ones that are harder to reach (aka base training), because you know that you can easily return to smash that little fucker when the time is right.
Or can you?
Better sharpen your mallet skills.
In highschool, this three-day stretch would be astronomically difficult. Now, all I can think is "I should be doing more." Kenyans train 3 times a day, or so I've heard. If I were to do that now, I would run myself into the ground, get hurt, and my season would be over.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is the fundamental angst associated with running. I can build up to running, HARD, three times a day. But to get to that point will take SOOOOO LOOOOOOOONG. I'm talking 3-5 more years AT THE VERY LEAST.
The Pain is not just something to push over, its a quelling force. It's your body telling you to stop what you're doing, before you say fuck it and kick off the bend.
Training helps diminish the Pain. But the Pain is a sneaky little bastard, it knows the next place to go, the next weakness you have to exploit.
Good at short intervals? The Pain moves to LSD's (long slow distance runs). Train Train Train Train Train. Good at LSD's now? The Pain moves to Tempo runs. Train Train Train Train Train Train Train. Good at Tempo runs now? The Pain moves to long intervals on grass. Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train. Good at long intervals? The Pain moves to Fartlek workouts. Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train Train. Careful now......are you still good at short intervals? Were you ever good at short intervals? Do you EVEN REMEMBER?
Train.
Running is a mix of all of these. The Training is the mallet in the hand of the whack-a-mole player, but if you're not quick enough, the same damn mole pops its head up before you can whack it back down. Sometimes, you let the closest mole pop its head while your hitting the ones that are harder to reach (aka base training), because you know that you can easily return to smash that little fucker when the time is right.
Or can you?
Better sharpen your mallet skills.
Monday, March 22, 2010
The Sickness
Runners are fragile creatures. Unlike football or soccer or basketball (etc) players who can just drill into the bone to fix injuries, or apply their body weight in tape, every kink in a runner could throw him or her off the deep end. I know a guy who ran 4:10 in the mile last year, and after struggling with a knee injury ran 4:55 a few weeks ago. If you're not a runner, that's at least 4 worlds of difference. A 4:10 miler would never even consider a 4:55 miler in the same zip code as them on the track, and it just shows how careful we as runners must be.
I'm writing this because my 'kink' of late is sickness. I have the worst kind cold - one that fills the lungs with mucus and leaves the body tired and sore. As if I don't do that enough already.
To make matters worse, for the mid-distance crew Mondays come with debilitating workouts. I won't go into exactly what I did because I know I'll ramble, but suffice it to say that the reps were 250m-500m and all-out, with long recovery. Now, after the second or third interval, one is usually clutching the knees, sucking wind like it's their job.
And the sickness? It does wonders for this breaking feeling. Exacerbates it ten-fold.
It blows my mind how something so small like the common cold can slow my workout by several seconds a rep, angering both my coaches and myself.
We're so fragile. How did I get this illness? Well, I take a steady regimen of vitamins to prevent illness, and a few days ago I forgot to take them. 1 day. That's all it took.
If you ever want reminder to take your vitamins, run an interval workout when sick. The pounding of your head like a grandfather clock as you clutch your knees will stay jammed into your frontal lobe longer than you would like to remember, or try to forget.
As athletes, we put ourselves through immense pain to be THE best. THE one. THE winner. And if I can do anything in my power to lessen that Pain and make the sailing smoother, the good lord knows I will do it.
The Sickness debilitates, and the Track spikes are an unforgiving friend.
Take your vitamins. Kill the kinks.
I'm writing this because my 'kink' of late is sickness. I have the worst kind cold - one that fills the lungs with mucus and leaves the body tired and sore. As if I don't do that enough already.
To make matters worse, for the mid-distance crew Mondays come with debilitating workouts. I won't go into exactly what I did because I know I'll ramble, but suffice it to say that the reps were 250m-500m and all-out, with long recovery. Now, after the second or third interval, one is usually clutching the knees, sucking wind like it's their job.
And the sickness? It does wonders for this breaking feeling. Exacerbates it ten-fold.
It blows my mind how something so small like the common cold can slow my workout by several seconds a rep, angering both my coaches and myself.
We're so fragile. How did I get this illness? Well, I take a steady regimen of vitamins to prevent illness, and a few days ago I forgot to take them. 1 day. That's all it took.
If you ever want reminder to take your vitamins, run an interval workout when sick. The pounding of your head like a grandfather clock as you clutch your knees will stay jammed into your frontal lobe longer than you would like to remember, or try to forget.
As athletes, we put ourselves through immense pain to be THE best. THE one. THE winner. And if I can do anything in my power to lessen that Pain and make the sailing smoother, the good lord knows I will do it.
The Sickness debilitates, and the Track spikes are an unforgiving friend.
Take your vitamins. Kill the kinks.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
The SoCal Night
At the meet at UC Irvine today, the 800/1500 runners weren't supposed to run, because last week was the Occidental Distance Carnival (aka only distance), and this week everyone else ran and the over-distance guys ran their off-events on the shorter side. But, because most of the 8 guys couldn't scratch a fast enough 400 to get into the meet outright, we were relegated to watching it.
It was a fun meet, with some nation-leading marks in DI, including a 1:48.mid 800 by a Lopez Lomong Look-A-Like and an 8:49 steeple (with several more great marks in that event) by some BYU studs.
Our B-relay 4x400m fell through so instead of scrapping it, I offered to run it. Split a 52.9/53.0 (depending on who you ask), which I'm not upset about, considering I was eating shit-all and not moving through out the meet.
But I digress - the main point for this post is about what happened after the meet. See, the 800/1500 guys who weren't running were supposed to do a workout of 6x400, which I couldn't get in until we got back, at around 8pm. By this time, it was pretty dark out, and I had no way to access the Trackside lights.
No worries, it's Southern California! It's still North of 65 degrees outside. I laced up my Nike Luna's and started jogging around.
There's something every distance runner loves about running at night. You just....feel FASTER. As the crickets chirped I danced around the track, light and soft, at 62 second pace per lap. I was planning on doing 60's, but that 4x4 leg took more out of me than I would like to admit.
The one light on the track resonated from above the bathroom, and cast an eerie shadow along the 350m mark on the back bend. As I passed this light every time I would check my shadow, build up, and hammer off of the final turn. Every step bringing me deep, deep into the dark.
As I finished the final rep, I went to take my flats off and sat down on the infield, listening. The silence of the warm night was cut only by my thoughts of how great a place SoCal is to train in the winter/spring...my thoughts wandering to workouts of old in the Seattle, trying to hammer out intervals in the hail or sleet day in and day out.
As I sat, my eyes wandered around and I caught a glimpse of a Firefly. Just once, real quick, but it was definitely there. The first Firefly of spring, dancing along the breeze on this warm, SoCal night. Just me and him, exploring it.
It was a fun meet, with some nation-leading marks in DI, including a 1:48.mid 800 by a Lopez Lomong Look-A-Like and an 8:49 steeple (with several more great marks in that event) by some BYU studs.
Our B-relay 4x400m fell through so instead of scrapping it, I offered to run it. Split a 52.9/53.0 (depending on who you ask), which I'm not upset about, considering I was eating shit-all and not moving through out the meet.
But I digress - the main point for this post is about what happened after the meet. See, the 800/1500 guys who weren't running were supposed to do a workout of 6x400, which I couldn't get in until we got back, at around 8pm. By this time, it was pretty dark out, and I had no way to access the Trackside lights.
No worries, it's Southern California! It's still North of 65 degrees outside. I laced up my Nike Luna's and started jogging around.
There's something every distance runner loves about running at night. You just....feel FASTER. As the crickets chirped I danced around the track, light and soft, at 62 second pace per lap. I was planning on doing 60's, but that 4x4 leg took more out of me than I would like to admit.
The one light on the track resonated from above the bathroom, and cast an eerie shadow along the 350m mark on the back bend. As I passed this light every time I would check my shadow, build up, and hammer off of the final turn. Every step bringing me deep, deep into the dark.
As I finished the final rep, I went to take my flats off and sat down on the infield, listening. The silence of the warm night was cut only by my thoughts of how great a place SoCal is to train in the winter/spring...my thoughts wandering to workouts of old in the Seattle, trying to hammer out intervals in the hail or sleet day in and day out.
As I sat, my eyes wandered around and I caught a glimpse of a Firefly. Just once, real quick, but it was definitely there. The first Firefly of spring, dancing along the breeze on this warm, SoCal night. Just me and him, exploring it.
Lesson 1: The Pain
In class the other day, someone asked me how many hours a day I workout for the Track Team. I thought about it for a second, then said 1. 1 hour. The pondering soul nodded, turned their head, and resumed what they were doing.
Of course this is a lie. It's way over 1 hour a day. But it's easier to answer this way. It avoids the inevitable tilt of the head as the non-runner tries to understand what I had just said, realizing that they don't quite comprehend it, which subsequently leads (97.6% of the time) to them feeling the urge to follow up Question 1 with any number of inane other Questions or cheesy humor lines:
"THAT much?! But...you're so skinny! You would die!..har har"
"Your mile time is WHAT?! I don't think I could bike that fast!..harhar"
"Did you do it because you couldn't do a REAL sport??...harhar"
To the 4.3 people on the internet who stumble across this Blog who DON'T run, let me try to explain:
If I could, I would have you sit in a chair in your room, in the most comfortable position possible. Lay down even. I would attach some contraption to you that would let you feel what I feel. To experience what I experience in every way. My thoughts, my smells, my taste, my emotions, and most importantly what I feel.
I would then go out and run a blistering speed workout.
If you, just one time, could feel that Pain. That Pain that brings you to your knees, that wrenches at every ounce of your sanity, that pushes you to the brink of your own limitations and back again, that Pain that makes every thousandth of a second feel like a Turtles slogging step...you would only catch a glimpse of my life. My life as a Runner.
At the end of the day, running for therapeutic purposes is all well and good, but this running and my running are not the same. This microcosm of the sport is but 1/1millionth of what we do.
The Pain. The unbearable pain. There is no secret to getting fast. The secret is defeating the Pain. And you cannot defeat the Pain.
Of course this is a lie. It's way over 1 hour a day. But it's easier to answer this way. It avoids the inevitable tilt of the head as the non-runner tries to understand what I had just said, realizing that they don't quite comprehend it, which subsequently leads (97.6% of the time) to them feeling the urge to follow up Question 1 with any number of inane other Questions or cheesy humor lines:
"THAT much?! But...you're so skinny! You would die!..har har"
"Your mile time is WHAT?! I don't think I could bike that fast!..harhar"
"Did you do it because you couldn't do a REAL sport??...harhar"
To the 4.3 people on the internet who stumble across this Blog who DON'T run, let me try to explain:
If I could, I would have you sit in a chair in your room, in the most comfortable position possible. Lay down even. I would attach some contraption to you that would let you feel what I feel. To experience what I experience in every way. My thoughts, my smells, my taste, my emotions, and most importantly what I feel.
I would then go out and run a blistering speed workout.
If you, just one time, could feel that Pain. That Pain that brings you to your knees, that wrenches at every ounce of your sanity, that pushes you to the brink of your own limitations and back again, that Pain that makes every thousandth of a second feel like a Turtles slogging step...you would only catch a glimpse of my life. My life as a Runner.
At the end of the day, running for therapeutic purposes is all well and good, but this running and my running are not the same. This microcosm of the sport is but 1/1millionth of what we do.
The Pain. The unbearable pain. There is no secret to getting fast. The secret is defeating the Pain. And you cannot defeat the Pain.
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