After XC I have a lot of base. A lot.
Now I need to shift into strength work, to get pure power up, and start turning over, which still retaining my mileage.
This is my fairly certain schedule, which I had to extend to 8 days, because the model of whom I was using is a 1:46 800m runner, and I can't recover as fast as he can, so I added Day 2 below whereas he doesn't have it.
I also tweaked my original model after I talked with coach, and now this is what my next 6-8 weeks will look like, starting tomorrow:
Day 1: AM Base
PM Short Speed (150m-300m), long recovery. Cut downs. Give the legs time.
Day 2: Base + Circuits (haven't written circuit schedule, will add when I finish)
Day 3: (AM optional shakeout)
Aerobic Threshold work, aka fartlek, mile repeats, etc.
Day 4: Base + Circuits
Day 5: AM Tempo. 4-5miles
PM Shake out
Day 6: Base + Weights. Focus on explosiveness.
Day 7: Long(er) Speed Ladder. Either up or down from 200-1600m.
Day 8: LSD.
As you can see, I have an extra day than there are days in a week. Don't worry, IT'S OKAY.
This training schedule is pretty brutal. But dammit, I wrote it, and spent a while debating over it.
I think I can handle it. Maybe not. We'll see.
Likely Combined Distance: 55-65 depending on if the week has the LSD or not.
Solid.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Nationals and the Midnight Mile
Even though I’m replaced, I’m still better in this current state than anyone but the newly crowned top7. So, coach keeps my ticket and I’m off to Waverly, Iowa for Nationals. If someone gets sick, breaks their leg, etc, I’m in.
My legs are an insurance policy for a disaster, so as far as I’m concerned I can just enjoy the ride and stay fresh in case of a random occurrence of failure.
The trip is fun. If there’s anyone who can enjoy a well-run and talent-filled meet, it’s me. I eat this shit up every day, so nothing is better than seeing it in person.
The guys run solid, but not spectacular. Bennett runs the best, hands down. Good choice on coach’s part. Despite that, he gets ~180th/290 runners. If I had a great day, I would’ve been right with him. It’s a humbling experience for sure.
19th as a team / 32. Top20 in the country sounds better.
The girls are the same, except our #1 girl Jenn who gets 7th. 7th! Can you believe that? Ridiculous. She has one more year too. We may be looking at a national champ. She’s tough as nails, if there’s anyone I would peg to do it in track or cross, it’s her. Maybe the 10k on the track would suit her better, I don’t know. We’ll see.
20th as a team / 32. Top 20 in the country definitely sounds better.
After the long, fun weekend we come back and that’s it. Cross Country is over for another year. As my teammates who didn’t run past the conference meet start running again, and the top guys take some well earned time off, they slowly start fixing their eyes on track.
I’m already there.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of racing cross country. But it doesn’t even come close to how I feel about racing track. It’s pure, it’s fast, and it’s just. plain. fucking. awesome. I could talk all day about it so I’ll leave it at that.
After the Nationals meet the conference gets together at Occidentals track to run a midnight mile. It’s just what it sounds like. An all-out, no holds barred, mile that starts at the stroke of midnight. I’m thinking anything under 4:25/6 would be a success.
I run 4:20 with erratic splits of 63-67-68-62, and almost win the damn thing.
I meet with coach the following day, and we talk about this upcoming track season. We argue about the which direction to go, he listens and modifies what I say. I do the same.
A tentative schedule is set. A little deviant from the norm, but hey, there is no one-size-fits-all in running. The only thing that we agree on fully is that proper mileage is very important, and that I can’t be 178 lbs again. Stick to the 160 I am now.
He also tells me that if I don’t run under 3:55 in the 1500m this spring that we’ve done something wrong.
And we lay out a long term plan to run well under 3:50. We conclude that my speed is almost right to do it, but my endurance is not.
“You have to be able to run all of these: 49 400m, 1:51 800m, and sub25 8k XC. When you do that, you can do it.”
I’ve developed a very solid base under me, and now its time to carry it for a few more months as I gradually shift to speed.
I’ll post my workout schedule when It’s ready.
Like and plan, it has to be carefully planned, edited, and sent to the higher-ups for proofreading.
But man, when I slipped those Nike Victories (my favorite track spikes) on for the first time since May, I couldn’t help but smile.
Here we go.
My legs are an insurance policy for a disaster, so as far as I’m concerned I can just enjoy the ride and stay fresh in case of a random occurrence of failure.
The trip is fun. If there’s anyone who can enjoy a well-run and talent-filled meet, it’s me. I eat this shit up every day, so nothing is better than seeing it in person.
The guys run solid, but not spectacular. Bennett runs the best, hands down. Good choice on coach’s part. Despite that, he gets ~180th/290 runners. If I had a great day, I would’ve been right with him. It’s a humbling experience for sure.
19th as a team / 32. Top20 in the country sounds better.
The girls are the same, except our #1 girl Jenn who gets 7th. 7th! Can you believe that? Ridiculous. She has one more year too. We may be looking at a national champ. She’s tough as nails, if there’s anyone I would peg to do it in track or cross, it’s her. Maybe the 10k on the track would suit her better, I don’t know. We’ll see.
20th as a team / 32. Top 20 in the country definitely sounds better.
After the long, fun weekend we come back and that’s it. Cross Country is over for another year. As my teammates who didn’t run past the conference meet start running again, and the top guys take some well earned time off, they slowly start fixing their eyes on track.
I’m already there.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of racing cross country. But it doesn’t even come close to how I feel about racing track. It’s pure, it’s fast, and it’s just. plain. fucking. awesome. I could talk all day about it so I’ll leave it at that.
After the Nationals meet the conference gets together at Occidentals track to run a midnight mile. It’s just what it sounds like. An all-out, no holds barred, mile that starts at the stroke of midnight. I’m thinking anything under 4:25/6 would be a success.
I run 4:20 with erratic splits of 63-67-68-62, and almost win the damn thing.
I meet with coach the following day, and we talk about this upcoming track season. We argue about the which direction to go, he listens and modifies what I say. I do the same.
A tentative schedule is set. A little deviant from the norm, but hey, there is no one-size-fits-all in running. The only thing that we agree on fully is that proper mileage is very important, and that I can’t be 178 lbs again. Stick to the 160 I am now.
He also tells me that if I don’t run under 3:55 in the 1500m this spring that we’ve done something wrong.
And we lay out a long term plan to run well under 3:50. We conclude that my speed is almost right to do it, but my endurance is not.
“You have to be able to run all of these: 49 400m, 1:51 800m, and sub25 8k XC. When you do that, you can do it.”
I’ve developed a very solid base under me, and now its time to carry it for a few more months as I gradually shift to speed.
I’ll post my workout schedule when It’s ready.
Like and plan, it has to be carefully planned, edited, and sent to the higher-ups for proofreading.
But man, when I slipped those Nike Victories (my favorite track spikes) on for the first time since May, I couldn’t help but smile.
Here we go.
Gambling with my Body
Workouts and runs the days following the Conference meet had been going poorly. I hit all the times I was supposed to, and run the times I was supposed to, but it was far harder than it should have been.
Only 3 weeks ago what was and felt like 5:30 pace on a grass-laden tempo run, today still is 5:30 pace but feels like 5:00 pace. Base runs at 6:20 pace that previously had my heart beating around 150-160 are now creeping into the 170-180 range.
Then the Regional happened.
The strength of CMS XC is in our depth.
Coach pulls me aside with our #8 runner, who has been running phenomenally.
I am in a dream. He puts his hand on my shoulder and tells me that I had a good run at it, but he can see I’m falling apart. I’m out. Bennett is in. Good season.
It makes sense, really. Bennett and I are fairly comparable runners over 8k XC. This year, I’ve beaten him four times, and he’s beaten me twice. Yet every race, we’re never more than 30 seconds apart, and usually we’re within 15.
I talked earlier about my summer, and how fully committing myself to running by adding another 200 miles to my summer paid off for me.
Well, this is the gamble that I made. A gamble with my body.
Interesting things happen when you run more miles. A lot more miles.
The body oscillates between extreme highs and extreme lows. It’s a phenomenon often called “breaking down.” The body gets torn apart, ripped to pieces, and does everything it can to tell you that what you’re doing to it is hurting it.
However, if you keep pushing the envelope, it shrugs, and begins to find new means of compensation. It makes more mitochondria. It uses lactic acid to close the micro-tears created by incessant pounding in the legs, and redoubles the strength. So that next time it wont hurt so bad.
And you get fast. Real fast.
But this is a gamble, because this extra pushing can cause injury, or burn out.
Or it can just have poor timing.
It’s a wheel of fatigue, half painted red and half painted green. The training spins the wheel, and when it’s on green all systems are firing. You drop your 8k from a 26:59 to a 25:54. You run a 4.35m time trial 80seconds faster than you ever have before. You run 12 x 1000m 6-7 seconds faster than you ever have before.
But the wheel keeps tuning as you keep pushing, never satisfied. Always wanting that much more. That faster time. That better place.
The less you increase your milage, the less discrepancy there is between red and green times, places, etc. Staying the same also means you’re stuck in mediocrity, and god dammit I run to be everything but mediocre.
Then the wheel turns red, and you start to falter. The season is long, and the workouts push the wheel faster and faster. You’re deep in the red now. That same 4.35m time trial is now oddly 40seconds slower. That 8k time starts to creep back up towards times you thought you’d never run again.
And you get 50th at Regionals.
It makes sense, really, what Coach is doing. I’m deep in the red, and Bennett is flying in the green.
What really bothers me, is that in 2-3 weeks, I’ll probably be in the green again.
But by then, Nationals will be over, and my chance will be, is now, and will burn into my memory as -
Gone.
Only 3 weeks ago what was and felt like 5:30 pace on a grass-laden tempo run, today still is 5:30 pace but feels like 5:00 pace. Base runs at 6:20 pace that previously had my heart beating around 150-160 are now creeping into the 170-180 range.
Then the Regional happened.
The strength of CMS XC is in our depth.
Coach pulls me aside with our #8 runner, who has been running phenomenally.
I am in a dream. He puts his hand on my shoulder and tells me that I had a good run at it, but he can see I’m falling apart. I’m out. Bennett is in. Good season.
It makes sense, really. Bennett and I are fairly comparable runners over 8k XC. This year, I’ve beaten him four times, and he’s beaten me twice. Yet every race, we’re never more than 30 seconds apart, and usually we’re within 15.
I talked earlier about my summer, and how fully committing myself to running by adding another 200 miles to my summer paid off for me.
Well, this is the gamble that I made. A gamble with my body.
Interesting things happen when you run more miles. A lot more miles.
The body oscillates between extreme highs and extreme lows. It’s a phenomenon often called “breaking down.” The body gets torn apart, ripped to pieces, and does everything it can to tell you that what you’re doing to it is hurting it.
However, if you keep pushing the envelope, it shrugs, and begins to find new means of compensation. It makes more mitochondria. It uses lactic acid to close the micro-tears created by incessant pounding in the legs, and redoubles the strength. So that next time it wont hurt so bad.
And you get fast. Real fast.
But this is a gamble, because this extra pushing can cause injury, or burn out.
Or it can just have poor timing.
It’s a wheel of fatigue, half painted red and half painted green. The training spins the wheel, and when it’s on green all systems are firing. You drop your 8k from a 26:59 to a 25:54. You run a 4.35m time trial 80seconds faster than you ever have before. You run 12 x 1000m 6-7 seconds faster than you ever have before.
But the wheel keeps tuning as you keep pushing, never satisfied. Always wanting that much more. That faster time. That better place.
The less you increase your milage, the less discrepancy there is between red and green times, places, etc. Staying the same also means you’re stuck in mediocrity, and god dammit I run to be everything but mediocre.
Then the wheel turns red, and you start to falter. The season is long, and the workouts push the wheel faster and faster. You’re deep in the red now. That same 4.35m time trial is now oddly 40seconds slower. That 8k time starts to creep back up towards times you thought you’d never run again.
And you get 50th at Regionals.
It makes sense, really, what Coach is doing. I’m deep in the red, and Bennett is flying in the green.
What really bothers me, is that in 2-3 weeks, I’ll probably be in the green again.
But by then, Nationals will be over, and my chance will be, is now, and will burn into my memory as -
Gone.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
West Regionals: Clock in, clock out.
Two weeks after conference we find ourselves in Salem, Oregon to run against the best teams in the West Region, all there for a single goal - to make Nationals. Top two teams are assured to go. The third place team is likely to go, and the fourth team may go if they are close to the 3rd place team. It all depends on the selection committee.
No one wants that kind of pressure. Top2 are, again, assured to go. So Top2 it is.
The soft rain wets the course in anticipation the night before. As the fog beings to lift in the early morning, the grass is glistening. Calling.
The course isn’t overly difficult. Four 2k loops, with a 50m hill about 150m past the start, meaning that we also cross it just past 2k, 4k, and 6k also.
Everyone’s mind is ready. The soft banter of the normal team is slightly tapered down, but it’s still there, just like normal. We pile out of the vans, and trot into the mist.
We are in the hotel room the night before the race. Coach is sitting casually, relaxed as the 14 of us guys and girls hang off of every free structure. “We’re here for one purpose, and that is to make nationals. As long as that happens, we’re successful. A job. This is your job.”
The trip is short. We left Claremont midday Friday, and we return Saturday afternoon. We already have workouts scheduled for next week. We’ve been talking about our prospects for a Nationals finish all year. To Coach, to us, to me, this is just another meet that we have to run to get there.
There are no questions. We have 10 guys that are faster than every other teams 7th guy. As long as everyone does their job, we will make Nationals. Another day at the office. That’s all this is.
Jesus Christ my nerves are going crazy. I have to settle down, or my stomach will kill me during the race.
The gun fires and I burst out. I don’t want to get stuck behind slower runners on the hill. I get up it fine, and settle into my pace.
My goal for the race is top35, as that is All-Region. As our 7th runner, if I get in the top35 and am our 7th runner, we will have easily made Nationals, so that is my goal.
I settle into ~45th place through 2k, and begin to work my way up. It’s the best way I run, and it hasn’t failed me yet.
Coming up on 3k, I’m feeling flat, but still holding pace. Not moving up as nicely as I would like, but still around 42nd, with a pack of guys ~30th-38th 100m ahead of me.
We take a sharp right hand turn at the 2nd mile mark. The guy I’m running on the outside of slips slightly, and his elbow crashes into my abdomen. Hard.
I throw up. Immediately.
My nerves from the previous day and the morning of have hurt me more than I would like, and my stomach is fragile. But this fragile? Fuck. FUCK.
Running under 5:20 pace while vomiting is not the easiest or most pleasant thing in the world. Still, it’s a god damn race and I’m not dropping out.
I fall back into 46th place, and regroup for 800m. Bring my breathing back to normal. Okay. We still have 2miles to go. Lets start to work.
Another 800m passes. A sharp pang. More throwup.
I pass 6k. Pang. Vomit. I’m falling further back.
Kick for home. Finish.
50th place.
The strength of CMS XC is in our depth. I ran poorly, and was still 10 places ahead of the next best 7th runner in the conference. But I still ran poorly.
But, my teammates were there to lift us up. Took 2nd (63-65 to Willamette. So close) in the region with phenomenal races throughout.
Time to regroup, because next week were going to the big dance.
No one wants that kind of pressure. Top2 are, again, assured to go. So Top2 it is.
The soft rain wets the course in anticipation the night before. As the fog beings to lift in the early morning, the grass is glistening. Calling.
The course isn’t overly difficult. Four 2k loops, with a 50m hill about 150m past the start, meaning that we also cross it just past 2k, 4k, and 6k also.
Everyone’s mind is ready. The soft banter of the normal team is slightly tapered down, but it’s still there, just like normal. We pile out of the vans, and trot into the mist.
We are in the hotel room the night before the race. Coach is sitting casually, relaxed as the 14 of us guys and girls hang off of every free structure. “We’re here for one purpose, and that is to make nationals. As long as that happens, we’re successful. A job. This is your job.”
The trip is short. We left Claremont midday Friday, and we return Saturday afternoon. We already have workouts scheduled for next week. We’ve been talking about our prospects for a Nationals finish all year. To Coach, to us, to me, this is just another meet that we have to run to get there.
There are no questions. We have 10 guys that are faster than every other teams 7th guy. As long as everyone does their job, we will make Nationals. Another day at the office. That’s all this is.
Jesus Christ my nerves are going crazy. I have to settle down, or my stomach will kill me during the race.
The gun fires and I burst out. I don’t want to get stuck behind slower runners on the hill. I get up it fine, and settle into my pace.
My goal for the race is top35, as that is All-Region. As our 7th runner, if I get in the top35 and am our 7th runner, we will have easily made Nationals, so that is my goal.
I settle into ~45th place through 2k, and begin to work my way up. It’s the best way I run, and it hasn’t failed me yet.
Coming up on 3k, I’m feeling flat, but still holding pace. Not moving up as nicely as I would like, but still around 42nd, with a pack of guys ~30th-38th 100m ahead of me.
We take a sharp right hand turn at the 2nd mile mark. The guy I’m running on the outside of slips slightly, and his elbow crashes into my abdomen. Hard.
I throw up. Immediately.
My nerves from the previous day and the morning of have hurt me more than I would like, and my stomach is fragile. But this fragile? Fuck. FUCK.
Running under 5:20 pace while vomiting is not the easiest or most pleasant thing in the world. Still, it’s a god damn race and I’m not dropping out.
I fall back into 46th place, and regroup for 800m. Bring my breathing back to normal. Okay. We still have 2miles to go. Lets start to work.
Another 800m passes. A sharp pang. More throwup.
I pass 6k. Pang. Vomit. I’m falling further back.
Kick for home. Finish.
50th place.
The strength of CMS XC is in our depth. I ran poorly, and was still 10 places ahead of the next best 7th runner in the conference. But I still ran poorly.
But, my teammates were there to lift us up. Took 2nd (63-65 to Willamette. So close) in the region with phenomenal races throughout.
Time to regroup, because next week were going to the big dance.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Leagues - Running v. Everything you believe in
Here I am, the night before we leave to go to the West Regional / NCAA Qualifier, a near 2 weeks after our league championship, writing about it.
The truth is I didn't know what to say. We won. There. The End. My personal life had taken a hit, and I just didn't care about running for a moment.
For a moment.
Turn back the clock to Thursday, October 28th, a few minutes before midnight. I'm walking my girlfriend of going on 2 1/2 years back to her apartment. On the way, we're having a conversation about our intrinsic values, and where they came from. We get to her apartment, and the conversation is becoming...odd. There's no yelling, no fighting. It is just odd. I can't place it. I don't know what's going on, I just know something is wrong.
2 hours later. 2 am. I'm on the long, lonely longboard ride back south to my lonely single, to spend a lonely night with her words reverberating in my ears. "It's not you, really. It has nothing to do with you. I just need to figure stuff out. Alone."
I'm shattered. Completely worn out. And lonely. Oh god lonely.
There's no chance of sleep. I fuck around on some political blogs, and before I know it it's 6am. I'm late for practice. I haven't slept in 36 hours.
I go through the 40min pre-meet run like a dream. A few teammates see the far off sadness, and try and help. They pass like mist.
It's Friday night. I've been up for almost 2 days. My biological systems simply shut down at 1am. They can't stay awake any longer.
5 hours later my alarm goes off. I have 3 hours to get my shit together before my race starts. The race that will determine my post season, my regionals bid. My nationals bid.
I look down to see if my toes are on the line. Fuck this I don't care. I could get last, I don't give two shits. I'm just going to cruise. I don't even LIKE cross country. This is fucking stupid.
I pass the mile in 5:25. I haven't gone out that slow since sophomore year in HS. I'm in 50th place. God knows what place I am on the team.
I pass 5k in 17:00. I haven't run that slow since junior year of HS. Whatever. I'm about 30th place. Still dunno team.
I get to 4miles, and people are dropping like flies. I just go around them. Not speeding up, not slowing down. Just floating. I pass 4.5. I finish. 15th place, 7th team, all conference.
I don't exactly know how it happened. I just want to sleep.
Dear god I just want to sleep.
I trained, I threw up. I came back. I killed my body. I failed a test.
5 Months.
Where did this body get me?
The ability to just cruise. To do what I needed to, to pick up the slack for a broken mind.
Some people say that it's mind over matter. That without a stronghold, barrier, or a mother fucking steel trap for a mind, that you wont be able to do anything.
I just ran 27:15 on a fairly difficult course without a mind.
Not a great time, but it could've been worse.
Tomorrow, I head to the West Regional. To Run. To be All West-Region.
And this time, when my body breaks, my mind will be there to carry it.
To Nationals.
The truth is I didn't know what to say. We won. There. The End. My personal life had taken a hit, and I just didn't care about running for a moment.
For a moment.
Turn back the clock to Thursday, October 28th, a few minutes before midnight. I'm walking my girlfriend of going on 2 1/2 years back to her apartment. On the way, we're having a conversation about our intrinsic values, and where they came from. We get to her apartment, and the conversation is becoming...odd. There's no yelling, no fighting. It is just odd. I can't place it. I don't know what's going on, I just know something is wrong.
2 hours later. 2 am. I'm on the long, lonely longboard ride back south to my lonely single, to spend a lonely night with her words reverberating in my ears. "It's not you, really. It has nothing to do with you. I just need to figure stuff out. Alone."
I'm shattered. Completely worn out. And lonely. Oh god lonely.
There's no chance of sleep. I fuck around on some political blogs, and before I know it it's 6am. I'm late for practice. I haven't slept in 36 hours.
I go through the 40min pre-meet run like a dream. A few teammates see the far off sadness, and try and help. They pass like mist.
It's Friday night. I've been up for almost 2 days. My biological systems simply shut down at 1am. They can't stay awake any longer.
5 hours later my alarm goes off. I have 3 hours to get my shit together before my race starts. The race that will determine my post season, my regionals bid. My nationals bid.
I look down to see if my toes are on the line. Fuck this I don't care. I could get last, I don't give two shits. I'm just going to cruise. I don't even LIKE cross country. This is fucking stupid.
I pass the mile in 5:25. I haven't gone out that slow since sophomore year in HS. I'm in 50th place. God knows what place I am on the team.
I pass 5k in 17:00. I haven't run that slow since junior year of HS. Whatever. I'm about 30th place. Still dunno team.
I get to 4miles, and people are dropping like flies. I just go around them. Not speeding up, not slowing down. Just floating. I pass 4.5. I finish. 15th place, 7th team, all conference.
I don't exactly know how it happened. I just want to sleep.
Dear god I just want to sleep.
I trained, I threw up. I came back. I killed my body. I failed a test.
5 Months.
Where did this body get me?
The ability to just cruise. To do what I needed to, to pick up the slack for a broken mind.
Some people say that it's mind over matter. That without a stronghold, barrier, or a mother fucking steel trap for a mind, that you wont be able to do anything.
I just ran 27:15 on a fairly difficult course without a mind.
Not a great time, but it could've been worse.
Tomorrow, I head to the West Regional. To Run. To be All West-Region.
And this time, when my body breaks, my mind will be there to carry it.
To Nationals.
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