Everyone has their own strategy for dealing with pain. Not The Pain, but pain in an immediate sense. Pain in a 3rd-lap-of-the-mile sense.
Everyone has their own way to deal with it. To focus your entire entity on forgetting how much you hurt in that moment.
Now, there are common ways people cope. Archetypes of coping, you could call them
1 LAP GIVE ME 1 LAP
Just 2 more minutes, please just two more minutes
Don't let him go. Don't you let him go. HANG ON
For your TEAMMATES, for your COACH, DO IT FOR THEM
I've tried all of these. They've all worked to various degrees. At least, enough to give me moderate success in the sport.
But for me, there's another way. One a little more cruel.
All of the foregoing ways to deal with the immediacy of pain assume that the pain will end if you just stick with it to the finish line. Just put yourself through it now, and when it's over you'll be better for it.
My high school often quoted the famous running motto - Pain is temporary, pride is forever
But I think the best way is to do the opposite.
I run as if the pain will never end.
Put a time goal down, and start running it. I'm going to run 5:48s for these 10 miles.
As the miles peel away, I make sure I am on pace. I give myself a little buffer, running a few 5:43-5:45s to give myself a few seconds if I slip up in future miles.
But mentally, I don't count mile 4 as being 6 miles from the finish, or even mile 9 as being 1 mile from the finish. I have before, and I've crumbled that way. Focusing on the end only reminds me how far I am from it.
I've come to assume that the run won't end, so when it does I'm pleasantly surprised while still not drained mentally from focusing on the end point.
These mental games have developed over the past 7 months as I've been running alone in the night, 90% of my runs lighted only by streetlamps and the soft glint of the moon.
When you can't physically see the endpoint, eventually it fades away mentally as well. And then you're in the moment, just running to run.
Why focus on the pain if it's going to be there forever? Might as well get used to it. Make it friendly.
I told you it was a bit cruel.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Adaption
I don't remember the last time I ran under 10 miles.
Well, let me qualify that. I've done workouts and tempo runs that have been shorter, obviously. But I haven't done a base run under 10 miles in god knows how long.
I remember doing 7mile runs with a teammate then tacking on a 2 mile loop at the end the rare times we ran together in DC.
But I'm back home in Seattle now for the next few weeks, and it looks like my winter holds many 64min runs in store before I head down to SoCal (For some reason, all of the 10 milers here have taken 64min & change).
I'm confident in my strength, I'm just going on 7months of training completely alone (save a few key workouts with a group in DC I'd meet with for workouts every other week), and that plays tricks on you.
I hit mile 6 on a hard 10miler. 5:41. I laugh as the thought occurs to me that all of this is to beat 2 athletes who finished ahead of me in conference last year. Fuck it, if I can run 3:50, then they're going to have to run 3:49 to beat me. And I don't think they can run 3:49.
The only break in my extended base monotony has been harder 10 mile runs (exciting, I know), 4 mile tempos, and the occasional ladder track workout.
There's nothing I want more right now than to lace up my spikes and get after track season. But, wiser heads always prevail and when talking to my coach, he reminded me that I still have 5 months until NCAAs.
sigh, A couple more months of this. It better pay off, this over-distance shit is fucking hard.
Who knew that the way to get better at distance running was by running longer distances?? Someone should have warned me when I was 16. But after that first time under 4:40, I was hooked.
And here I am, almost 5 years later. I wonder what I would say to myself on that cold day I shocked myself and ran 4:38.
Probably to quit.
But more likely, to train harder. I'm a bit of a sadist.
Well, let me qualify that. I've done workouts and tempo runs that have been shorter, obviously. But I haven't done a base run under 10 miles in god knows how long.
I remember doing 7mile runs with a teammate then tacking on a 2 mile loop at the end the rare times we ran together in DC.
But I'm back home in Seattle now for the next few weeks, and it looks like my winter holds many 64min runs in store before I head down to SoCal (For some reason, all of the 10 milers here have taken 64min & change).
I'm confident in my strength, I'm just going on 7months of training completely alone (save a few key workouts with a group in DC I'd meet with for workouts every other week), and that plays tricks on you.
I hit mile 6 on a hard 10miler. 5:41. I laugh as the thought occurs to me that all of this is to beat 2 athletes who finished ahead of me in conference last year. Fuck it, if I can run 3:50, then they're going to have to run 3:49 to beat me. And I don't think they can run 3:49.
The only break in my extended base monotony has been harder 10 mile runs (exciting, I know), 4 mile tempos, and the occasional ladder track workout.
There's nothing I want more right now than to lace up my spikes and get after track season. But, wiser heads always prevail and when talking to my coach, he reminded me that I still have 5 months until NCAAs.
sigh, A couple more months of this. It better pay off, this over-distance shit is fucking hard.
Who knew that the way to get better at distance running was by running longer distances?? Someone should have warned me when I was 16. But after that first time under 4:40, I was hooked.
And here I am, almost 5 years later. I wonder what I would say to myself on that cold day I shocked myself and ran 4:38.
Probably to quit.
But more likely, to train harder. I'm a bit of a sadist.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Fumbling My Chance
I stand in awe and dismay as the metro that is supposed to take me half an hour away to my race just goes right through the station without stopping. Every so often the metro cars will be 'no passenger' in DC, and it was just my stupid luck that it happened to be this one.
This train would have put my 2 blocks from the start line at 9:15am, a solid 45min before the start of the race. The next yellow line train that will take me to the same place won't come for another half an hour, and I can't wait that long. I grab the Green line, pop out about halfway between where I started and the course, and grab a cab.
Traffic traffic traffic traffic and suddenly I'm there. 9:50am. Shit.
I pay, run through the thousands of people waiting for the bathroom, into the gym, grab my bib number, and sprint to the starting line. 9:54am. I cut my warm up clothes off, throw my flats on, and briskly jog along, trying to warm up and pin my number on at the same time.
shit shit shit I don't have time to warm up! It's okay its a perfect day, just go with it the race is 5 miles you can work into it. Don't worry you'll be fine remember the plan
They have us stand at the line just before 10am, sing the national anthem, get some remarks from everyone and their god damn dog involved with the process. It's 10min past start time and they haven't let anyone move. Stupid race directors. I should've used this time to keep jogging, regardless of what they were saying.
As the gun goes I stretch out, light from having a couple recovery days but stiff from not warming up. I slide in behind a couple Kenyans and let them do the work. They're here to win money and are undoubtedly faster than I am, I just want a fast time.
The first mile is pancake flat. I don't see any mile marker but I see we've been running 6 min so it's well behind us. The road turns down softly, and I get left behind by a few guys as the group splits, leaving me and one other guy together.
I see the 2mile mark approaching. It's literally a guy with an orange vest standing on the side of the road waving a flag that says '2miles.' Ridiculous, I know. So ridiculous in fact that I don't check my watch until we're just past him by 10 meters or so. 9:59, maybe a few ticks faster at the 2mile.
The road continues downward and I'm in no mans land. I hit the turn around and I'm tightening up Jesus this is painful, stretch out you're slowing down stretch out
I turn and head back up the way I came and I'm dying a slow, slow death. My legs just will not respond to me. They're feeling the first two miles and I'm in a territory I haven't been in in over a year. I'm pushing back up, probably past 3 miles now. I don't know. I'm barely moving.
All I can think is that I should just drop out, I'm going to be nowhere near the time I want. But I know I'm not going to, I didn't train this hard to drop out of a race, regardless of how hard I'm tanking the 4th mile.
I lose track of where I am. Someone says there's half a mile to go. Someone else says there's a mile to go. Eventually the road flattens out and I see the finish, a long long way off.
I'm confused. There's race pain but my vision is getting blurry. This is new, it's like I'm wearing blinders. I try to wipe the sweat away but nothing happens. Slowly I can't see much of anything, all I can do is run and hope there's not a hole to rip my ankle off
I cross the line in 27low. 27:09? It doesn't matter. I absolutely blew up.
I lay on the grass as thousands of people stream across the line over the course of the next half hour. It's all just a swirl, the conversation in my head isn't one of anger, or disappointment, just sadness.
I'm sad I missed the opportunity to run well. I know I'm fit, I know I'm capable of far better, I just went out and tried to be a hero on my first race back. Dying a slow death is the most painful way to run, and lord that death march will haunt my legs for months to come.
I don't know how fit I am, but I'm fitter than that. I wonder what would have happened if I tried to run 25:30 or 25:50 instead of 24:50. Maybe I would have run faster, maybe I would've died just the same.
I sit here, 6 weeks away from heading back to school, 6 months away from conference championships and 7 months away from NCAAs. I don't know what to expect, but all I can do is train the best way I know how and hope for the best.
Hopefully I won't pull this shit again. All I can do is learn from it and move on, I suppose.
This train would have put my 2 blocks from the start line at 9:15am, a solid 45min before the start of the race. The next yellow line train that will take me to the same place won't come for another half an hour, and I can't wait that long. I grab the Green line, pop out about halfway between where I started and the course, and grab a cab.
Traffic traffic traffic traffic and suddenly I'm there. 9:50am. Shit.
I pay, run through the thousands of people waiting for the bathroom, into the gym, grab my bib number, and sprint to the starting line. 9:54am. I cut my warm up clothes off, throw my flats on, and briskly jog along, trying to warm up and pin my number on at the same time.
shit shit shit I don't have time to warm up! It's okay its a perfect day, just go with it the race is 5 miles you can work into it. Don't worry you'll be fine remember the plan
They have us stand at the line just before 10am, sing the national anthem, get some remarks from everyone and their god damn dog involved with the process. It's 10min past start time and they haven't let anyone move. Stupid race directors. I should've used this time to keep jogging, regardless of what they were saying.
As the gun goes I stretch out, light from having a couple recovery days but stiff from not warming up. I slide in behind a couple Kenyans and let them do the work. They're here to win money and are undoubtedly faster than I am, I just want a fast time.
The first mile is pancake flat. I don't see any mile marker but I see we've been running 6 min so it's well behind us. The road turns down softly, and I get left behind by a few guys as the group splits, leaving me and one other guy together.
I see the 2mile mark approaching. It's literally a guy with an orange vest standing on the side of the road waving a flag that says '2miles.' Ridiculous, I know. So ridiculous in fact that I don't check my watch until we're just past him by 10 meters or so. 9:59, maybe a few ticks faster at the 2mile.
The road continues downward and I'm in no mans land. I hit the turn around and I'm tightening up Jesus this is painful, stretch out you're slowing down stretch out
I turn and head back up the way I came and I'm dying a slow, slow death. My legs just will not respond to me. They're feeling the first two miles and I'm in a territory I haven't been in in over a year. I'm pushing back up, probably past 3 miles now. I don't know. I'm barely moving.
All I can think is that I should just drop out, I'm going to be nowhere near the time I want. But I know I'm not going to, I didn't train this hard to drop out of a race, regardless of how hard I'm tanking the 4th mile.
I lose track of where I am. Someone says there's half a mile to go. Someone else says there's a mile to go. Eventually the road flattens out and I see the finish, a long long way off.
I'm confused. There's race pain but my vision is getting blurry. This is new, it's like I'm wearing blinders. I try to wipe the sweat away but nothing happens. Slowly I can't see much of anything, all I can do is run and hope there's not a hole to rip my ankle off
I cross the line in 27low. 27:09? It doesn't matter. I absolutely blew up.
I lay on the grass as thousands of people stream across the line over the course of the next half hour. It's all just a swirl, the conversation in my head isn't one of anger, or disappointment, just sadness.
I'm sad I missed the opportunity to run well. I know I'm fit, I know I'm capable of far better, I just went out and tried to be a hero on my first race back. Dying a slow death is the most painful way to run, and lord that death march will haunt my legs for months to come.
I don't know how fit I am, but I'm fitter than that. I wonder what would have happened if I tried to run 25:30 or 25:50 instead of 24:50. Maybe I would have run faster, maybe I would've died just the same.
I sit here, 6 weeks away from heading back to school, 6 months away from conference championships and 7 months away from NCAAs. I don't know what to expect, but all I can do is train the best way I know how and hope for the best.
Hopefully I won't pull this shit again. All I can do is learn from it and move on, I suppose.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Rediscovering Racing
So the 5k didn't go like I thought or hoped it would, but it wasn't that bad of a showing.
The results list me as running 16:09, but the course was clearly long. I hit the miles at 4:55, 10:10(5:15), & 15:20(5:10) and sure as hell didn't run ~40 seconds for my last 0.102 miles. They had the finish further away than they had the start line so it would finish in a parking lot rather than on a narrow footpath. I cooled down by running the course again with my Garmin, and based on the 5k finish I saw and the difference in the length of the course, I hit 5k around 15:45-15:50, so that's what I'm taking away from this race as a time.
Neurotic tendencies aside, a few things of note from the day -
1 - Ran alone the whole time, 2nd place was something like 17:20
2 - Turns. There were three 180 degree turns, and about four or five 90 degree turns. There were really only two real spots where I could stretch out for over 400m. The picture I added gives credence to this, it basically snaked along this walkway the entire time. It was flat as I could've asked for, so no complaints there.
3 - Man, I forgot to race it in the middle. I got complacent with pace and didn't push as much as I should have. It felt super super short. It hurt at the end, but more of a tempo hurt than a real race. The most important aspect of racing well is really knowing how to push yourself, so that your time IS what you're capable of running, and not what you're capable of running using 85% of your energy.
With all of these excuses and analysis of the day in mind, I set out for my Sunday long run.
I clipped along easily, tight but not overly tired by any degree.
I ran 14.5 miles at 6:37 pace for my normal 'slow' run, and that tells me all I really need to know about the day -
That I didn't push it 100%, that even a pace just north of 5min feels hot, and that my base is fantastic.
By the time track rolls around I'll be itching to strap spikes on and go for a tear on the Track, even if I have to work my way down from 28sec 200s to do it.
Edit: Purdy puts 15:48 as equal to a 26:06, which I'm fine with effort wise. Hopefully when thanksgiving rolls around I can get my legs under me, work with competition, and bang out a real fast time.
Shout out to all my teammates who just got an At-Large bid for NCAAs XC!! You had me worried there for a second but I never doubted you. I'll be watching come next Saturday.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Questions on Questions
I don't really know how fit I am.
It's been months of lonely base work with a couple more to go. I've been putting in the miles and occasional workout and can feel myself getting stronger, but I don't really know exactly how much stronger. I haven't raced since the 4th of July.
On Saturday, I'm hopping in a local 5k, and on Thanksgiving I've got a very competitive 8k lined up. The 5k is more of a reintroduction to racing after nearly half a year without it, which will make the 8k a better metric a couple weeks later.
The thing is - I have no idea how fast I'm prepared to run.
Oh, I have a general sense. I've split 16:0x through 5k for 8k, so I assume I can run faster than that. I've been running 72/73s for 1k repeats fairly easily when I do it with other people, but 72/73 for a 5k is right around 15flat for a 5k. Am I that fit? The last (& only) time I ran that fast was when I ran a downhill rip off of a 5k.
What about 8k? How close can I get to 25:10? 25:00? 24:50? I honestly don't know.
And it's pretty exciting.
For someone who is constantly measuring themselves with test efforts year round, having a dry spell of this length is like having a fresh start.
And what could be better than that?
It's been months of lonely base work with a couple more to go. I've been putting in the miles and occasional workout and can feel myself getting stronger, but I don't really know exactly how much stronger. I haven't raced since the 4th of July.
On Saturday, I'm hopping in a local 5k, and on Thanksgiving I've got a very competitive 8k lined up. The 5k is more of a reintroduction to racing after nearly half a year without it, which will make the 8k a better metric a couple weeks later.
The thing is - I have no idea how fast I'm prepared to run.
Oh, I have a general sense. I've split 16:0x through 5k for 8k, so I assume I can run faster than that. I've been running 72/73s for 1k repeats fairly easily when I do it with other people, but 72/73 for a 5k is right around 15flat for a 5k. Am I that fit? The last (& only) time I ran that fast was when I ran a downhill rip off of a 5k.
What about 8k? How close can I get to 25:10? 25:00? 24:50? I honestly don't know.
And it's pretty exciting.
For someone who is constantly measuring themselves with test efforts year round, having a dry spell of this length is like having a fresh start.
And what could be better than that?
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
The Value of Rest
I woke up on Saturday morning and my legs were throbbing.
I had put in an average of 11 miles a day for the last 10 days and I had to take a day off. I went out and shuffle jogged around for 20min before coming back inside and spending most of the day doing recovery stuff.
I woke up on Sunday extremely hungover from Halloween parties the night before but physically feeling alright. I trotted out the door in the crisp fall air and just enjoyed the monotony. The thing is, I could tell I was moving faster than usual but I didn't care, it felt easy. Really really easy.
The miles peeled away without any over 6:50, and eventually I found myself done with the full 15 at 6:38 pace. I've run this sort of time before, but it's always because I'm running with faster people and am being pulled along relentlessly.
No so today, it just felt easy. So easy.
Skip to Monday night, an I'm headed out the door for my typical 10 mile base run. Again, I'm simply bouncing along, running at what I know is a solid base effort and I find the pace is pretty fast.
I'm at 2 miles in 11:51. Doesnt hurt, but then again it's only 2 miles. Understandable.
I'm at 5 miles in 29:50. Doesn't hurt at all. Okay now it's weird.
At 6 I'm still fine, and at 7 I start laughing, realizing that I'm going to run under 6min pace with no real hard effort at all.
59:38. Like walking.
Fuck I love running.
I had put in an average of 11 miles a day for the last 10 days and I had to take a day off. I went out and shuffle jogged around for 20min before coming back inside and spending most of the day doing recovery stuff.
I woke up on Sunday extremely hungover from Halloween parties the night before but physically feeling alright. I trotted out the door in the crisp fall air and just enjoyed the monotony. The thing is, I could tell I was moving faster than usual but I didn't care, it felt easy. Really really easy.
The miles peeled away without any over 6:50, and eventually I found myself done with the full 15 at 6:38 pace. I've run this sort of time before, but it's always because I'm running with faster people and am being pulled along relentlessly.
No so today, it just felt easy. So easy.
Skip to Monday night, an I'm headed out the door for my typical 10 mile base run. Again, I'm simply bouncing along, running at what I know is a solid base effort and I find the pace is pretty fast.
I'm at 2 miles in 11:51. Doesnt hurt, but then again it's only 2 miles. Understandable.
I'm at 5 miles in 29:50. Doesn't hurt at all. Okay now it's weird.
At 6 I'm still fine, and at 7 I start laughing, realizing that I'm going to run under 6min pace with no real hard effort at all.
59:38. Like walking.
Fuck I love running.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Night Wink
On Sunday, I was pushing up one of the only two big hills, 12 miles into my weekly 14 mile long run. I was feeling pretty good and light, but a hill always reminds you how long you have been running.
I started my run as the sun was setting, and by now darkness was virtually hugging the buildings.
I glance upwards in a grimace. It's a bad habit, like I am looking at the sky with annoyance for God giving me the ability to feel pain. The moment I look up, a bright green star streaks across the sky, stretching from Georgetown to Hyattsville
Now I'm not really a superstitious person, but damn that has to mean SOMEthing, right?
Well, even if it doesn't, I'll pretend it will. Placebos are almost as important as real medicine, anyway.
I started my run as the sun was setting, and by now darkness was virtually hugging the buildings.
I glance upwards in a grimace. It's a bad habit, like I am looking at the sky with annoyance for God giving me the ability to feel pain. The moment I look up, a bright green star streaks across the sky, stretching from Georgetown to Hyattsville
Now I'm not really a superstitious person, but damn that has to mean SOMEthing, right?
Well, even if it doesn't, I'll pretend it will. Placebos are almost as important as real medicine, anyway.
Objectivism
I am, for all intents and purposes, a Poli Sci major. My degree will have all sorts of bells and whistles and qualifiers to my area of study, but in the Spring of 2013 I will have spent the last 4 years of my life immersed in Politics, whether it be domestically or abroad.
Politics is, at its core, a real-time game that plays out clashes in political philosophy. While successes can often be weighed and measured, many solutions and decisions are hard to quantify because we don't have a parallel universe where we know what would have happened if we had not implemented some policy and instead went with another.
Since my Junior year of high school I have known that I will work in the public sector, and with that decision has come studying and mastering the subjective. Internalizing arguments firsthand and creating those of my own.
I have, by choice, gone down a path that will be full of clashes of idealism, often with answers that are inherently circumspect.
And that, I suppose, is one of the main reasons I love running.
In a life of subjectivity and philosophy underlying every decision being made around me, running is one of the only saving graces that I can look at purely objectively.
It is, at ITS base, a measurement of distance and how fast you can traverse it. If you do it one second faster, one half of one percent quicker, you are better. Period.
A workout we do often is a 10 mile hard run.
The first time I broke 1 hour was the week after conference last year, when I ran 58:10ish. Since then, I had only broken an hour once more, running 59:20 during track season.
I ran 57:48 a couple weeks back, totally alone.
Running here, training 70 mile weeks with no real race in sight, totally alone, plays tricks on your training mentality. I FEEL stronger, but I don't have the luxury of constantly testing myself to see if that's true.
But, at its core, running is simply a measurement of distance and how fast you can traverse it.
And this time, I ran 5:48/mile for 10 miles, dipping under 5:50 pace for the first time.
Objectively speaking, I am faster today than I was yesterday.
And that's really calming in the face of a subjective life.
Politics is, at its core, a real-time game that plays out clashes in political philosophy. While successes can often be weighed and measured, many solutions and decisions are hard to quantify because we don't have a parallel universe where we know what would have happened if we had not implemented some policy and instead went with another.
Since my Junior year of high school I have known that I will work in the public sector, and with that decision has come studying and mastering the subjective. Internalizing arguments firsthand and creating those of my own.
I have, by choice, gone down a path that will be full of clashes of idealism, often with answers that are inherently circumspect.
And that, I suppose, is one of the main reasons I love running.
In a life of subjectivity and philosophy underlying every decision being made around me, running is one of the only saving graces that I can look at purely objectively.
It is, at ITS base, a measurement of distance and how fast you can traverse it. If you do it one second faster, one half of one percent quicker, you are better. Period.
A workout we do often is a 10 mile hard run.
The first time I broke 1 hour was the week after conference last year, when I ran 58:10ish. Since then, I had only broken an hour once more, running 59:20 during track season.
I ran 57:48 a couple weeks back, totally alone.
Running here, training 70 mile weeks with no real race in sight, totally alone, plays tricks on your training mentality. I FEEL stronger, but I don't have the luxury of constantly testing myself to see if that's true.
But, at its core, running is simply a measurement of distance and how fast you can traverse it.
And this time, I ran 5:48/mile for 10 miles, dipping under 5:50 pace for the first time.
Objectively speaking, I am faster today than I was yesterday.
And that's really calming in the face of a subjective life.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Ah, Nostalgia.
As I stepped out of the door to get rolling on my long run yesterday afternoon, I started up my Pandora as is tradition.
The song that came up first was 'Ghostwriter' by RJD2, and damn did that take me instantly back.
Flash to summer of 2005. I'm heading into freshman year of high school, and all I want to do is make the varsity team. I'm barely hanging on to the top guys on runs if at all (our #1 runner at the time was a 16:40 5k guy, so you get the picture of the 'top guys').
We run as a team 3 times a week, but the other 4 days are on our own. I have a simple concept - run as hard as I can during those non-team days and I'll beat everyone. I had JUST gotten an Ipod. A big fat 2nd generation thing with a click wheel. To me, it was god of all music. I find a nice 5 mile loop from my house with rolling hills, and just kill it to my hearts content. I find another 5.5 loop and I literally spend every day running one of those two as fast as my little 14 year old legs can carry me.
Why do I think of this now? Because the first song on that Ipod playlist that carried me through each run that summer was Ghostwriter, by RJD2.
I remember not liking running. I remember running because I was good at it, and wanted to prove to everyone that I could get a Varsity letter as a freshman (which, of course, was the MOST important thing at the time), and hating the solo runs.
I vomited at least 4 times a week that summer. My weakness has always been my aerobic capacity, and running 5 or 5.5 miles was honestly the absolute brink of what I could handle on a daily basis.
A week before our first meet, I ran the 5.5 mile loop at 6:59 pace, feeling fantastic. I could not believe it, you would've thought I had set a world record by my expression.
I made varsity the next week at our first race.
Flash back to Sunday, and all of the thoughts bounce around my head as I cruise along the tidal basin memorials in the DC sunset.
If you told me 6 years (and change) ago that I would be here, in DC, working full time and running 14+ mile runs as a typical Sunday, I would have thought you were crazy.
I don't know where I will be in 6 years. I don't know where my life will take me or who will and won't be in my life.
But I know I'll still be running. I know I'll still be finding those perfect sunset long run routes. I know I'll constantly be looking for ways to improve, to tweak my form, to absorb everything I can about this sport that I love.
As I finally finish up in the dark, humid, DC night I check my watch. 6:57 pace.
I wonder if my 6:15-6:25 pace base runs now will be my long run pace in 6 years.
I guess we'll see.
The song that came up first was 'Ghostwriter' by RJD2, and damn did that take me instantly back.
Flash to summer of 2005. I'm heading into freshman year of high school, and all I want to do is make the varsity team. I'm barely hanging on to the top guys on runs if at all (our #1 runner at the time was a 16:40 5k guy, so you get the picture of the 'top guys').
We run as a team 3 times a week, but the other 4 days are on our own. I have a simple concept - run as hard as I can during those non-team days and I'll beat everyone. I had JUST gotten an Ipod. A big fat 2nd generation thing with a click wheel. To me, it was god of all music. I find a nice 5 mile loop from my house with rolling hills, and just kill it to my hearts content. I find another 5.5 loop and I literally spend every day running one of those two as fast as my little 14 year old legs can carry me.
Why do I think of this now? Because the first song on that Ipod playlist that carried me through each run that summer was Ghostwriter, by RJD2.
I remember not liking running. I remember running because I was good at it, and wanted to prove to everyone that I could get a Varsity letter as a freshman (which, of course, was the MOST important thing at the time), and hating the solo runs.
I vomited at least 4 times a week that summer. My weakness has always been my aerobic capacity, and running 5 or 5.5 miles was honestly the absolute brink of what I could handle on a daily basis.
A week before our first meet, I ran the 5.5 mile loop at 6:59 pace, feeling fantastic. I could not believe it, you would've thought I had set a world record by my expression.
I made varsity the next week at our first race.
Flash back to Sunday, and all of the thoughts bounce around my head as I cruise along the tidal basin memorials in the DC sunset.
If you told me 6 years (and change) ago that I would be here, in DC, working full time and running 14+ mile runs as a typical Sunday, I would have thought you were crazy.
I don't know where I will be in 6 years. I don't know where my life will take me or who will and won't be in my life.
But I know I'll still be running. I know I'll still be finding those perfect sunset long run routes. I know I'll constantly be looking for ways to improve, to tweak my form, to absorb everything I can about this sport that I love.
As I finally finish up in the dark, humid, DC night I check my watch. 6:57 pace.
I wonder if my 6:15-6:25 pace base runs now will be my long run pace in 6 years.
I guess we'll see.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
The Lasse Viren 5k & Slow Growth
Every runner has their staple workout.
It may not be the workout you enjoy the most, or the workout you are best at, but is an accurate metric for your form at the moment. For me, it's what I call the 'Lasse Viren 5k' because to my knowledge he invented the workout. Basically, its in-&-out alternating 100m sprints for 5k on the track. I read about it when I was in high school, but never got around to doing it until the summer after my senior year.
The first time I did it, I had a 4:26 mile and a 16:17 to my name.
6/1/2010 - 18:30.
I remember it hurting a lot, the discomfort of changing gears every handful of seconds throwing me into oxygen debt quicker than I would like to admit, and struggled to make it through the whole distance.
6/18/2010 - 17:36
A couple weeks later and a couple weeks stronger. I wore flats this time and was mentally ready for The Pain.
Flash to a year later, starting to climb my mileage:
7/7/2011 - 17:19
My log:
Was 5:33 - 11:06 (5:33) - 16:40 (5:34), so damn consistent. Could've gone for another mile, but I didn't want to push it too hard. Still need to run miles this week. Felt smooth, pretty nice until last 8/1200m or so.
edit: Upon review the last time I did this was 2 weeks ago last year and I did it about 20sec slower, and I remember it hurting a lot more. Good sign.
A couple days ago I did it again:
9/10/2011 - 16:32
I knew 800m in that I was going to break 17, I passed it in 2:33 as my legs were just starting to warm up.
My stride is coming together nicely, I've been working on my lower core as that area being weak is what I've deduced is making me over-stride. I have the luxury of keeping some quality in my miles as I build, and I haven't lost the weight that I did last summer doing less miles than I am now, but I am managing to keep the power that I had during early track season. If I can keep that, AND build strength, I should be able to click this workout off in sub16 before the end of the semester.
Regardless of what I'm doing, I'm doing something right. And that's all I really care about.
It may not be the workout you enjoy the most, or the workout you are best at, but is an accurate metric for your form at the moment. For me, it's what I call the 'Lasse Viren 5k' because to my knowledge he invented the workout. Basically, its in-&-out alternating 100m sprints for 5k on the track. I read about it when I was in high school, but never got around to doing it until the summer after my senior year.
The first time I did it, I had a 4:26 mile and a 16:17 to my name.
6/1/2010 - 18:30.
I remember it hurting a lot, the discomfort of changing gears every handful of seconds throwing me into oxygen debt quicker than I would like to admit, and struggled to make it through the whole distance.
6/18/2010 - 17:36
A couple weeks later and a couple weeks stronger. I wore flats this time and was mentally ready for The Pain.
Flash to a year later, starting to climb my mileage:
7/7/2011 - 17:19
My log:
Was 5:33 - 11:06 (5:33) - 16:40 (5:34), so damn consistent. Could've gone for another mile, but I didn't want to push it too hard. Still need to run miles this week. Felt smooth, pretty nice until last 8/1200m or so.
edit: Upon review the last time I did this was 2 weeks ago last year and I did it about 20sec slower, and I remember it hurting a lot more. Good sign.
A couple days ago I did it again:
9/10/2011 - 16:32
I knew 800m in that I was going to break 17, I passed it in 2:33 as my legs were just starting to warm up.
My stride is coming together nicely, I've been working on my lower core as that area being weak is what I've deduced is making me over-stride. I have the luxury of keeping some quality in my miles as I build, and I haven't lost the weight that I did last summer doing less miles than I am now, but I am managing to keep the power that I had during early track season. If I can keep that, AND build strength, I should be able to click this workout off in sub16 before the end of the semester.
Regardless of what I'm doing, I'm doing something right. And that's all I really care about.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Sickness & Second Home
So maybe I overreacted. Maybe.
It turns out that I was actually quite sick. I woke up the next morning and couldn't get out of bed without getting extraordinarily dizzy. Took a couple days off. My head was so full that I actually broke out in an insane nosebleed on the way over here. Second of my life, and the most I've bled in a while.
Seriously, those things suck. But I digress.
Back in DC means back in humidity. I'll be glad when it gets colder. It also means that I'm in a permanent place for a while and need to get my workouts in. I was referred to Georgetown Running Co. that has workouts on Wednesdays and that they are actually legit runners, so it looks like my week will consist of a couple runs with them, which will be nice.
Back in my second home in DC, and aside from the weather I'm really loving the city. The problem is that the weather is a total deal breaker for any long term living situation.
So I sit here, looking ahead at a schedule of 70-80 mile weeks for 5 months, trying not to think how shitty it will be in this weather. Hopefully it will cool down ASAP.
The work will get done regardless, for no other reason than it has to get done.
It turns out that I was actually quite sick. I woke up the next morning and couldn't get out of bed without getting extraordinarily dizzy. Took a couple days off. My head was so full that I actually broke out in an insane nosebleed on the way over here. Second of my life, and the most I've bled in a while.
Seriously, those things suck. But I digress.
Back in DC means back in humidity. I'll be glad when it gets colder. It also means that I'm in a permanent place for a while and need to get my workouts in. I was referred to Georgetown Running Co. that has workouts on Wednesdays and that they are actually legit runners, so it looks like my week will consist of a couple runs with them, which will be nice.
Back in my second home in DC, and aside from the weather I'm really loving the city. The problem is that the weather is a total deal breaker for any long term living situation.
So I sit here, looking ahead at a schedule of 70-80 mile weeks for 5 months, trying not to think how shitty it will be in this weather. Hopefully it will cool down ASAP.
The work will get done regardless, for no other reason than it has to get done.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Fuck Running
Just fuck it. I just finished a 9.5 miler in 65 minutes. 65??? That's 6:5x pace. I ran that for 20 miles a few weeks ago and now my heart rate was pushing 190 finishing this stupid excuse of a run.
I was dying out there. I was landing on my forefoot like I was in a god damn 800m race. I didn't even know that was possible running fucking 6:50s.
I'm training like I'm aiming to run a 4:35 mile, not a 3:50 1500. I'm sitting here, 5 months away from my first race feeling like I haven't gotten anywhere running 70+ weeks. My legs felt fine, even though I ran 200s yesterday. My chest was destroyed. It felt like a hard tempo run and it was slow as shit.
I stumbled into my house, downed a gatorade, grabbed 3 Fat Tire's and sat in a cold shower, drinking. For half an hour. I looked like something out of Black Swan or some shit.
Fuck this. I wish I were 60 and unable to run so I could watch Olympians and remember those days when you just feel like nothing can stop you, and forget about these fucking days.
After Sunday I'm taking next week at 20 miles MAYBE.
I was dying out there. I was landing on my forefoot like I was in a god damn 800m race. I didn't even know that was possible running fucking 6:50s.
I'm training like I'm aiming to run a 4:35 mile, not a 3:50 1500. I'm sitting here, 5 months away from my first race feeling like I haven't gotten anywhere running 70+ weeks. My legs felt fine, even though I ran 200s yesterday. My chest was destroyed. It felt like a hard tempo run and it was slow as shit.
I stumbled into my house, downed a gatorade, grabbed 3 Fat Tire's and sat in a cold shower, drinking. For half an hour. I looked like something out of Black Swan or some shit.
Fuck this. I wish I were 60 and unable to run so I could watch Olympians and remember those days when you just feel like nothing can stop you, and forget about these fucking days.
After Sunday I'm taking next week at 20 miles MAYBE.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Upper Bound
The first week of August, my team has what it calls the 'long weekend,' in which we all are supposed to run the longest run of our lives to date.
For me the longest run was during the previous summer's long weekend, a distance of 17 miles. But thinking about it this week, I got the idea in my head to go for 20. My long runs this summer have been getting longer and longer, and I've handled them rather well, so I took my favorite 10miler, and simply turned it into an out-and-back 20miler.
I strolled out of my house and through the first 5 miles. Long Slow Distance runs (LSDs) are pretty easy for most of the way, it's just the time you are physically running that kills you in the long run (PUN).
The first 10miles peeled away with minimal effort. I lazily checked my watch every couple of miles, unconcerned with pace, just rolling along the long, soft hills of the northwest.
You know what, I don't usually like these runs but it's a perfect 75 degree day, I'm along the lake, the Blue Angels are out, this is fun
I reach the end of the first 10 miles without discomfort. 1:09:30. Not a bad pace. After a few minutes of stretching and buying bottled water, I turn and start plodding back the way I came, a plastic water bottle in each hand.
The second part of my run covered 10-16. These 6 miles I was growing anxious. I took in water every 10 minutes or so, and by 14.5 the first bottle was gone, a not-insignificant part ON me rather than IN me.
10-16miles was a completely separate part of the run because I was slowly getting Jello legged. I wasn't really that tired, but I felt it coming.
16-20 is its own part, because these 4 miles were absolute hell.
Mile 16-17 was entirely uphill. As I crested the bike-path on-ramp back onto Mercer Island, my hamstrings were on fire. They did NOT like the distance. On a dime I went from Jello legged to extremely sore and tired, and I still had to get through this last half hour.
The winding road from 17-20 which I usually know so well seemed like foreign soil. My pace didn't falter, but that was simply out of habit over the last 2 hours rather than willpower. If my pace changed, my stride changed, and if my stride changed.....it hurt.
17-18 felt long.
18-19 felt like an eternity. 19-20 was a desperate attempt to outrun my pain.
Fumbling inside my door, I tried to consume all I could that would benefit my recovery. Sweet potatoes, Gatorade, avocado, etc.
There is nothing worse than knowing you HAVE to eat when your body just doesn't want it. I spent 5 minutes chewing avocado, and that shit is just mush to begin with.
I sit here now, 4 hours removed from finishing that run, staring at my calves twitching like they're having some sort of seizure.
Tomorrow is going to be a rough day.
For me the longest run was during the previous summer's long weekend, a distance of 17 miles. But thinking about it this week, I got the idea in my head to go for 20. My long runs this summer have been getting longer and longer, and I've handled them rather well, so I took my favorite 10miler, and simply turned it into an out-and-back 20miler.
I strolled out of my house and through the first 5 miles. Long Slow Distance runs (LSDs) are pretty easy for most of the way, it's just the time you are physically running that kills you in the long run (PUN).
The first 10miles peeled away with minimal effort. I lazily checked my watch every couple of miles, unconcerned with pace, just rolling along the long, soft hills of the northwest.
You know what, I don't usually like these runs but it's a perfect 75 degree day, I'm along the lake, the Blue Angels are out, this is fun
I reach the end of the first 10 miles without discomfort. 1:09:30. Not a bad pace. After a few minutes of stretching and buying bottled water, I turn and start plodding back the way I came, a plastic water bottle in each hand.
The second part of my run covered 10-16. These 6 miles I was growing anxious. I took in water every 10 minutes or so, and by 14.5 the first bottle was gone, a not-insignificant part ON me rather than IN me.
10-16miles was a completely separate part of the run because I was slowly getting Jello legged. I wasn't really that tired, but I felt it coming.
16-20 is its own part, because these 4 miles were absolute hell.
Mile 16-17 was entirely uphill. As I crested the bike-path on-ramp back onto Mercer Island, my hamstrings were on fire. They did NOT like the distance. On a dime I went from Jello legged to extremely sore and tired, and I still had to get through this last half hour.
The winding road from 17-20 which I usually know so well seemed like foreign soil. My pace didn't falter, but that was simply out of habit over the last 2 hours rather than willpower. If my pace changed, my stride changed, and if my stride changed.....it hurt.
17-18 felt long.
18-19 felt like an eternity. 19-20 was a desperate attempt to outrun my pain.
Fumbling inside my door, I tried to consume all I could that would benefit my recovery. Sweet potatoes, Gatorade, avocado, etc.
There is nothing worse than knowing you HAVE to eat when your body just doesn't want it. I spent 5 minutes chewing avocado, and that shit is just mush to begin with.
I sit here now, 4 hours removed from finishing that run, staring at my calves twitching like they're having some sort of seizure.
Tomorrow is going to be a rough day.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
A Story of 2nd Place
It's an interesting thing when people from other schools know your name. It validates what you're doing when you're getting into it. As a sophomore in high school, I ran a 4:38 first meet of the season and all of the sudden my name was on the district-wide performance list, and I was put into conversations with people whose names I knew.
I ended my sophomore year as a 4:28 miler, but as 'only' the 3rd fastest miler of my class in my district.
Throughout the rest of my high school experience, I was the Chris Brown, the Nate Brannen, the Kevin Sullivan, the Chris Lukezic of the 800/Mile.
In short - I was the guy who always made the final, but was never in the conversation to win.
Oh sure, I'd pick up an upset 3rd or even 2nd here and there, and I'd always be in the conversation as someone's Dark Horse or potential spoiler, but not as the popular pick to win.
I guess this has fueled me as much as anything. As I've worked harder, I've caught up to and surpassed some of these rivals of old, which turns around to make me push harder.
MY DIIIRunner's Experience is a personal story of a 5th ranked guy that shouldn't have gotten 3rd, the personal struggle of the almost-but-not-quite-talented-enough guy doing everything he can to reach that next level, to run those times he shouldn't have been able to run, and more than anything to beat those guys who simply just don't lose.
I ended my sophomore year as a 4:28 miler, but as 'only' the 3rd fastest miler of my class in my district.
Throughout the rest of my high school experience, I was the Chris Brown, the Nate Brannen, the Kevin Sullivan, the Chris Lukezic of the 800/Mile.
In short - I was the guy who always made the final, but was never in the conversation to win.
Oh sure, I'd pick up an upset 3rd or even 2nd here and there, and I'd always be in the conversation as someone's Dark Horse or potential spoiler, but not as the popular pick to win.
I guess this has fueled me as much as anything. As I've worked harder, I've caught up to and surpassed some of these rivals of old, which turns around to make me push harder.
MY DIIIRunner's Experience is a personal story of a 5th ranked guy that shouldn't have gotten 3rd, the personal struggle of the almost-but-not-quite-talented-enough guy doing everything he can to reach that next level, to run those times he shouldn't have been able to run, and more than anything to beat those guys who simply just don't lose.
400m Escapes
Before I ended my internship in DC and headed home for a month, I jogged to the track to break up the monotony of the miles. 12x400, without looking at the watch until the lap was done. I just wanted something resembling speed.
On semi-tired legs I head to the track at 10:30 at night. Why so late? It's 10:30, and it's 95 degrees outside. Each night I choose between sleep and an awkwardly comfortable run. I have yet to choose the former.
3 sets of 4, 2min between reps, lap jog between sets plus a minute stretching.
66 65 64 65
My legs seem to creak in protest. I haven't done reps these short in months. I jog around the inside of the track, wiping pounds of sweat away in the torrential humidity.
65 66 66 66
Hip flexors are feeling the repeats.
67
God dammit these are fucking 400s not 800s. Run them like you're not alone
63 64 62
That's better
On semi-tired legs I head to the track at 10:30 at night. Why so late? It's 10:30, and it's 95 degrees outside. Each night I choose between sleep and an awkwardly comfortable run. I have yet to choose the former.
3 sets of 4, 2min between reps, lap jog between sets plus a minute stretching.
66 65 64 65
My legs seem to creak in protest. I haven't done reps these short in months. I jog around the inside of the track, wiping pounds of sweat away in the torrential humidity.
65 66 66 66
Hip flexors are feeling the repeats.
67
God dammit these are fucking 400s not 800s. Run them like you're not alone
63 64 62
That's better
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
What am I doing, and Why am I not better at it?
I caught all the lights tonight. I stopped once, and that was voluntary to go to the bathroom for 30 seconds on a tree.
I ran late, starting my run at 9:15pm. DC is humid, and my runs have been getting later and later as the summer drags onward. Each mile peeled away like magnetic strips, revealing the run as a whole. Each mile was between 6:22 and 6:27, a 5 second gap for 7.75 miles.
My pace hardly faltered at any time. I glided, and got intentionally lost in my own head.
I didn't want to run today. I didn't get much sleep last night, and I had to work later than most people at my office. I was buzzing on coffee all day and when I got home and made and ate dinner, it was 8:30. I wanted to crash, to sleep, to pass out for 12 hours and wake up ready to go tomorrow.
And I almost did. I laid in my bed, and I knew I couldn't fall asleep unless I got my run in. It wasn't guilt, it wasn't anxiousness, it was the feeling of an uncompleted task that simply had to be taken care of before bed. Like washing dishes, or making lunch for the next day.
Or homework. It was homework. It simply had to be done.
If I had to describe to you why I've come to feel like that, I couldn't tell you. There's something I'm running for, running towards, and I think that deep down I know what it is, but it's too frightening to say out loud. Too surreal to think about in my current state of fitness.
I listen to soft music that acts as white noise, blocking out the inner city sounds. It doesn't pump me up & it doesn't calm me down, it simply changes what I am experiencing. Recently, it's been folk music. Before that, it was classic orchestral pieces. Before that, Indie rock. It changes as I change.
I think I do it to mute the sound of my own breathing.
I don't like to know how tired I am, and the sound of my labored breath bothers me in the fleeting moments between songs. I'm not supposed to be tired at a silly pace like this. I'm fine.
I keep my pace as I climb, climb, climb back home. As I slow to a stop at the end of my run, I check my heart rate. It's just north of 170 bpm.
I probably checked it wrong, I'm fitter than that. Ya. I'm fitter than that.
If I were to measure myself against what I want to do, what I know I'm running for, what makes running another task rather than a chore or a burden or even something I view as necessary exercise - would stop me. It's too intangible, too hard, too few success stories and millions of failures of people just like me.
I don't have a closing motivational thought. These thoughts just bounce around my head to the sound of White Blank Page as I skim through the humid night, physically knowing that I can when all evidence says I cannot.
I ran late, starting my run at 9:15pm. DC is humid, and my runs have been getting later and later as the summer drags onward. Each mile peeled away like magnetic strips, revealing the run as a whole. Each mile was between 6:22 and 6:27, a 5 second gap for 7.75 miles.
My pace hardly faltered at any time. I glided, and got intentionally lost in my own head.
I didn't want to run today. I didn't get much sleep last night, and I had to work later than most people at my office. I was buzzing on coffee all day and when I got home and made and ate dinner, it was 8:30. I wanted to crash, to sleep, to pass out for 12 hours and wake up ready to go tomorrow.
And I almost did. I laid in my bed, and I knew I couldn't fall asleep unless I got my run in. It wasn't guilt, it wasn't anxiousness, it was the feeling of an uncompleted task that simply had to be taken care of before bed. Like washing dishes, or making lunch for the next day.
Or homework. It was homework. It simply had to be done.
If I had to describe to you why I've come to feel like that, I couldn't tell you. There's something I'm running for, running towards, and I think that deep down I know what it is, but it's too frightening to say out loud. Too surreal to think about in my current state of fitness.
I listen to soft music that acts as white noise, blocking out the inner city sounds. It doesn't pump me up & it doesn't calm me down, it simply changes what I am experiencing. Recently, it's been folk music. Before that, it was classic orchestral pieces. Before that, Indie rock. It changes as I change.
I think I do it to mute the sound of my own breathing.
I don't like to know how tired I am, and the sound of my labored breath bothers me in the fleeting moments between songs. I'm not supposed to be tired at a silly pace like this. I'm fine.
I keep my pace as I climb, climb, climb back home. As I slow to a stop at the end of my run, I check my heart rate. It's just north of 170 bpm.
I probably checked it wrong, I'm fitter than that. Ya. I'm fitter than that.
If I were to measure myself against what I want to do, what I know I'm running for, what makes running another task rather than a chore or a burden or even something I view as necessary exercise - would stop me. It's too intangible, too hard, too few success stories and millions of failures of people just like me.
I don't have a closing motivational thought. These thoughts just bounce around my head to the sound of White Blank Page as I skim through the humid night, physically knowing that I can when all evidence says I cannot.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Glances and Glazed Eyes
I've been noticing something while I'm in Washington DC over the summer, and it was probably true before this I just never realized what was going on.
So, back story/explanation:
I live about a mile north of the Capital building, and my typical base run has been to make a B-line straight for it, loop around the back and run along the hard-packed dirt path around the Federal Triangle/National Mall. Depending on how I come back, it's between 7 and 8.5 miles, and I usually do it around 9pm. Great.
Now, I don't do this specific run over and over and over because I want to see all of the sights. Don't get me wrong - the Smithsonian buildings and Federal monuments are beautiful at night, and with the fireflies along my path it really is gorgeous at times - it's just that the loop has an extended period of non-pavement, it's relatively flat, and there aren't many times I have to stop for cars/traffic lights like I would have to do literally anywhere else I ran in this city.
But there's always one constant thing I can count on when I do that loop - throngs of tourists. Plethoras of cameras, accents, languages, and bewildered expressions. I'm not being degrading, I've only lived here a month so I identify more with the tourists than with the DC residents, it's just something I've noticed.
And with the masses of people on the Mall at all hours of the day and night, the number of people who look at me changes drastically when I run vs when I do not (in the same areas).
Now, I don't mean take a nonchalant glance my way then continue on. This is deer in the headlights, OMG-that-guy-has-a-gun, Do-I-know-him blank empty stares. Shit that could make Sauron twitch. LOTR reference? Check.
I thought this was simply because I was running, and most of the time with very little clothing, moving at a pace around 10mph as I don't even glance at the monuments. Odd right? BUT YOU'RE WRONG.
See, I bike everywhere. DC is small, and the metro is expensive. When I'm biking furiously around the Mall, I get the EXACT same stares.
BUT (and this is the super interesting part), when I'm biking very slow, i.e. walking pace, NOBODY gives me more than a glance.
Thus, in summation my hypothesis is:
Velocity of movement is directly correlated with how long people stare at you, or at least how long tourists do.
I'll be testing this in the weeks and months to come. Stay tuned. This is important stuff.
For science! *bow
So, back story/explanation:
I live about a mile north of the Capital building, and my typical base run has been to make a B-line straight for it, loop around the back and run along the hard-packed dirt path around the Federal Triangle/National Mall. Depending on how I come back, it's between 7 and 8.5 miles, and I usually do it around 9pm. Great.
Now, I don't do this specific run over and over and over because I want to see all of the sights. Don't get me wrong - the Smithsonian buildings and Federal monuments are beautiful at night, and with the fireflies along my path it really is gorgeous at times - it's just that the loop has an extended period of non-pavement, it's relatively flat, and there aren't many times I have to stop for cars/traffic lights like I would have to do literally anywhere else I ran in this city.
But there's always one constant thing I can count on when I do that loop - throngs of tourists. Plethoras of cameras, accents, languages, and bewildered expressions. I'm not being degrading, I've only lived here a month so I identify more with the tourists than with the DC residents, it's just something I've noticed.
And with the masses of people on the Mall at all hours of the day and night, the number of people who look at me changes drastically when I run vs when I do not (in the same areas).
Now, I don't mean take a nonchalant glance my way then continue on. This is deer in the headlights, OMG-that-guy-has-a-gun, Do-I-know-him blank empty stares. Shit that could make Sauron twitch. LOTR reference? Check.
I thought this was simply because I was running, and most of the time with very little clothing, moving at a pace around 10mph as I don't even glance at the monuments. Odd right? BUT YOU'RE WRONG.
See, I bike everywhere. DC is small, and the metro is expensive. When I'm biking furiously around the Mall, I get the EXACT same stares.
BUT (and this is the super interesting part), when I'm biking very slow, i.e. walking pace, NOBODY gives me more than a glance.
Thus, in summation my hypothesis is:
Velocity of movement is directly correlated with how long people stare at you, or at least how long tourists do.
I'll be testing this in the weeks and months to come. Stay tuned. This is important stuff.
For science! *bow
Friday, June 3, 2011
DIII Difference
The thing you always hear with DIII Runners is "You know, I really enjoy running, I just didn't want to go to a DI school and have it consume my life."
Well, I'm sort of living that for the next 8 months. I'm in shiny, fast paced, and abhorrently humid Washington D.C. until December 15th-ish, back home in August for a brief stint before heading to Hawaii for family vacation, then back to D.C.
Essentially, my life is humid (<-new website?). This is new. I don't like it.
I'm missing Cross Country in the Fall, but I justify it to myself by saying that I need the extended period of base because I lack true strength. This may actually be true. We'll see.
The Fall will be far less humid (I'm told), simply just cold, but I can deal with cold.
But I digress.
The point is, neither running nor schooling is the prime focus until deep winter, which hasn't happened for a number of years. If I have to work through my run, or go to an event that goes through a planned running time, its....its okay. It hurts to say, but it's true.
I have months and months and months and months....a day or two here and there won't hurt, as long as I keep it at a day or two and don't spiral downward into the also-abroad faction that comes back to track season completely out of shape and overweight.
Though I'm putting running aside in terms of immediate importance, it still carries a large weight. My run WILL get done. I WILL race. It just won't be with a team, and it'll be just that - running.
The grueling workouts, the 530am wake-up call, the stretching California hills, the sound of 20 other pairs of feet next to mine, that will all be put on hiatus as I jump start my professional life.
And that hiatus, to me, is the DIII Difference.
DI waits for nothing, DIII waits for me. It just depends on how much I want it when I come back.
Well, I'm sort of living that for the next 8 months. I'm in shiny, fast paced, and abhorrently humid Washington D.C. until December 15th-ish, back home in August for a brief stint before heading to Hawaii for family vacation, then back to D.C.
Essentially, my life is humid (<-new website?). This is new. I don't like it.
I'm missing Cross Country in the Fall, but I justify it to myself by saying that I need the extended period of base because I lack true strength. This may actually be true. We'll see.
The Fall will be far less humid (I'm told), simply just cold, but I can deal with cold.
But I digress.
The point is, neither running nor schooling is the prime focus until deep winter, which hasn't happened for a number of years. If I have to work through my run, or go to an event that goes through a planned running time, its....its okay. It hurts to say, but it's true.
I have months and months and months and months....a day or two here and there won't hurt, as long as I keep it at a day or two and don't spiral downward into the also-abroad faction that comes back to track season completely out of shape and overweight.
Though I'm putting running aside in terms of immediate importance, it still carries a large weight. My run WILL get done. I WILL race. It just won't be with a team, and it'll be just that - running.
The grueling workouts, the 530am wake-up call, the stretching California hills, the sound of 20 other pairs of feet next to mine, that will all be put on hiatus as I jump start my professional life.
And that hiatus, to me, is the DIII Difference.
DI waits for nothing, DIII waits for me. It just depends on how much I want it when I come back.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Finals, year 2
For the second year in a row, I have the damn outside lane. Whatever, I guess 12 is my lucky number now.
The waiting is the worst part. My race is at 3:40. I wake up at 9 to go for a shakeout run.
It feels just awful.
I stretch after 10min, enjoying the morning. Or trying to.
10 more minutes of jogging. Feels better.
It's noon, and I've stomached the last thing I'll eat today. The waiting is definitely the worst part.
I sit around my dorm room. I stand up, it's 1:30. I walk around. Sit back down. Stand up. Lay down. Drink water. Shake legs. Stick legs. Sit up. Screw around on the internet. It's 1:35.
God dammit.
After trying to stay mentally calm yet anxious at the same time, I finally decide to walk down to the track at 2:45. I get my number from the infield, and a little after 3:05 I get my 3 other teammates to go warm up.
My heart is racing no pump up music today thats too much wheres my softer stuff? just calm down, you'll do fine you dont even know how fit you are just calm down calm down calm down
I don't need as long of a warm up today as I did my shakeout earlier. 12min should do fine. I find a spot in the shade, alone to stretch
20min to go, start your active stretching
I'll be told later that I look like a mix of fear and anxiety
10min to go, walk down to the infield, start your strides.
I feel loose, quick. Like my regular running shoes are weighing me down.
7min to go, spike up.
All my warm ups are gone except my longer shorts over my track shorts, which will stay on until the very last moment.
In a line, the 24 individual legs shake out like a reverberating wave. All 12 athletes are being told instructions, and all 12 are ignoring them. They've done this countless times.
The gun washes away every thought.
I glance over and pick my spot, settling into 3rd place around the turn. The man who has chosen to take the race head on early has my blessing, and when he moves I move around 3rd and settle into 2nd. 64 first lap.
Unbenounced to me, the rest of the field hadn't followed us that tightly. While the leader and I went through in 64, the rest of the field went through closer to 66, jostling.
Coming up to 2 laps to go I am confused. The pace has slowed as the leader is tiring slightly, and I'm very, very comfortable. With the 5th fastest PR in the field, the only words I can manage to form over the dull shouts of the crowd are
Where the fuck is everyone. 2:09/10
The pace is slowing and I know a move will come soon. I brace for a move, and it comes on cue. With 600m to go, my 3 teammates fly by at a much quicker pace.
The race has started. REALLY started.
400m to go and I am right behind my 3 teammates who have taken to the forefront, shadowed by one other runner.
There are 5 now, with 2 more only a step off the pace 3:12, a 62 for that last lap for me, closer to a 61 for them
300 to go I have more I have more give me an opening something anything THERE
A spot opens on the inside and I take it, sliding into a dead heat with another runner for 2nd, behind my teammates who has taken first sprint for home.
I'm tiring but they have to be too
I push, and the three of us for a gap on the re-forming pack behind us.
150m to go and I'm gapped in both directions as I start to fade. 100m to go and I just grit.
get 3rd get 3rd get 3rd holy fuck get 3rd
I stave off an attack from a faster peer, and make it. 3rd. A shade over 3:59, 46.x for the last 300m.
The commotion is....loud. The race definitely shook some perceptions all across the board, and was probably exciting to watch that last 300m. I was told that all 7 came back into contention with 250m left.
3rd gives me 1st Team All-Conference. First time I've been first team, I can add it to my two 2nd Team awards.
Slowly, slowly I climb.
Delayed gratification is the best gratification.
The place is set, now it's time to go chase some times.
The waiting is the worst part. My race is at 3:40. I wake up at 9 to go for a shakeout run.
It feels just awful.
I stretch after 10min, enjoying the morning. Or trying to.
10 more minutes of jogging. Feels better.
It's noon, and I've stomached the last thing I'll eat today. The waiting is definitely the worst part.
I sit around my dorm room. I stand up, it's 1:30. I walk around. Sit back down. Stand up. Lay down. Drink water. Shake legs. Stick legs. Sit up. Screw around on the internet. It's 1:35.
God dammit.
After trying to stay mentally calm yet anxious at the same time, I finally decide to walk down to the track at 2:45. I get my number from the infield, and a little after 3:05 I get my 3 other teammates to go warm up.
My heart is racing no pump up music today thats too much wheres my softer stuff? just calm down, you'll do fine you dont even know how fit you are just calm down calm down calm down
I don't need as long of a warm up today as I did my shakeout earlier. 12min should do fine. I find a spot in the shade, alone to stretch
20min to go, start your active stretching
I'll be told later that I look like a mix of fear and anxiety
10min to go, walk down to the infield, start your strides.
I feel loose, quick. Like my regular running shoes are weighing me down.
7min to go, spike up.
All my warm ups are gone except my longer shorts over my track shorts, which will stay on until the very last moment.
In a line, the 24 individual legs shake out like a reverberating wave. All 12 athletes are being told instructions, and all 12 are ignoring them. They've done this countless times.
The gun washes away every thought.
I glance over and pick my spot, settling into 3rd place around the turn. The man who has chosen to take the race head on early has my blessing, and when he moves I move around 3rd and settle into 2nd. 64 first lap.
Unbenounced to me, the rest of the field hadn't followed us that tightly. While the leader and I went through in 64, the rest of the field went through closer to 66, jostling.
Coming up to 2 laps to go I am confused. The pace has slowed as the leader is tiring slightly, and I'm very, very comfortable. With the 5th fastest PR in the field, the only words I can manage to form over the dull shouts of the crowd are
Where the fuck is everyone. 2:09/10
The pace is slowing and I know a move will come soon. I brace for a move, and it comes on cue. With 600m to go, my 3 teammates fly by at a much quicker pace.
The race has started. REALLY started.
400m to go and I am right behind my 3 teammates who have taken to the forefront, shadowed by one other runner.
There are 5 now, with 2 more only a step off the pace 3:12, a 62 for that last lap for me, closer to a 61 for them
300 to go I have more I have more give me an opening something anything THERE
A spot opens on the inside and I take it, sliding into a dead heat with another runner for 2nd, behind my teammates who has taken first sprint for home.
I'm tiring but they have to be too
I push, and the three of us for a gap on the re-forming pack behind us.
150m to go and I'm gapped in both directions as I start to fade. 100m to go and I just grit.
get 3rd get 3rd get 3rd holy fuck get 3rd
I stave off an attack from a faster peer, and make it. 3rd. A shade over 3:59, 46.x for the last 300m.
The commotion is....loud. The race definitely shook some perceptions all across the board, and was probably exciting to watch that last 300m. I was told that all 7 came back into contention with 250m left.
3rd gives me 1st Team All-Conference. First time I've been first team, I can add it to my two 2nd Team awards.
Slowly, slowly I climb.
Delayed gratification is the best gratification.
The place is set, now it's time to go chase some times.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Prelims, year 2
Despite my incessant requests, I was put in the 1500m instead of the 800m for the conference meet, despite really only running it once (a week ago). I ran a 4:01 training through, which threw me up at 6th on the conference lists, one the guys ahead of me is a 5k+ guy so he won't be running it. For all intents and purposes I sit at 5th.
Luckily for me, the 1500m is far weaker (depth wise) than the 800m, so making finals won't be overly difficult, it's just scoring better than 5th over 4 people who are 3+ seconds ahead of me, while simultaneously watching my ass for the 2 guys less than a second behind me.
On the line, I'm nervous. Really nervous.
I know I will likely qualify, but I still am afraid I'll mess up somehow. Step on a rail, get outkicked, make some sort of blundering mistake.
In finals, I never have these thoughts, it's just in prelims. It's just in races where to not qualify means that I have to screw up.
The gun signifies a literal walk from the line. We go through the first lap in a 74. 7.4. What's going on, that's unheard of.
The leader starts to roll back the pace - slowly. We go through 800m in 2:20. A 66, still a joke.
With 400m to go, there are 6 guy still in contention. Top4 auto qualify
If the pack is still tight with 300m to go, my coaches words echo in my head
surge so that you don't have to rely on your kick which will tire you out for tomorrow
I fly around my teammates on the bed, pointing at my chest as I go by, signaling to them in frantic bursts of words ME, ME, ON ME
Our stronger guy is doubling back, and I would rather be the one to push the pace than have him do the work. We come through the 3rd lap in 3:22, a 62 for the 3rd lap, and yet the group is still there.
I push down the back stretch and around the turn. With 100m to go, there are 4 of us separated from the rest, two of my teammates alongside me as we stroll into the finish.
Check back is someone there? close but not that close. slow down. slow down. too much, taper, taper
And the oddest 4:10 I've ever run is done, and I'm into the final.
Luckily for me, the 1500m is far weaker (depth wise) than the 800m, so making finals won't be overly difficult, it's just scoring better than 5th over 4 people who are 3+ seconds ahead of me, while simultaneously watching my ass for the 2 guys less than a second behind me.
On the line, I'm nervous. Really nervous.
I know I will likely qualify, but I still am afraid I'll mess up somehow. Step on a rail, get outkicked, make some sort of blundering mistake.
In finals, I never have these thoughts, it's just in prelims. It's just in races where to not qualify means that I have to screw up.
The gun signifies a literal walk from the line. We go through the first lap in a 74. 7.4. What's going on, that's unheard of.
The leader starts to roll back the pace - slowly. We go through 800m in 2:20. A 66, still a joke.
With 400m to go, there are 6 guy still in contention. Top4 auto qualify
If the pack is still tight with 300m to go, my coaches words echo in my head
surge so that you don't have to rely on your kick which will tire you out for tomorrow
I fly around my teammates on the bed, pointing at my chest as I go by, signaling to them in frantic bursts of words ME, ME, ON ME
Our stronger guy is doubling back, and I would rather be the one to push the pace than have him do the work. We come through the 3rd lap in 3:22, a 62 for the 3rd lap, and yet the group is still there.
I push down the back stretch and around the turn. With 100m to go, there are 4 of us separated from the rest, two of my teammates alongside me as we stroll into the finish.
Check back is someone there? close but not that close. slow down. slow down. too much, taper, taper
And the oddest 4:10 I've ever run is done, and I'm into the final.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Conference Decisions
In the 90+ degree heat yesterday, I PR'd in the 1500. The race was honestly one of the most painful things I can ever remember doing.
The plan: Have me pace through 500/600meters @ 63s pace, then have our faster guys take over and drag me through the rest of the race.
The goal: Beat LaVerne's #1, AND make him tired enough to be a non-factor doubling back in the 5k later on. Also, personally, go sub4.
The Race.
The gun goes and two LaVerne guys burst out to the early lead. I settle in, content with their pace but they slow. A hand wave from a teammate at 200m tells me that this is not what we planned for. I move up and push
We go through 300m just on 49seconds, and 400m just on 64 seconds. I continue to push the pace, but settle into something more feasible. 63s. As I start to slow down a tad just before 800m, my teammates take over. 2:07, me 2:08
I hang and hang jesus christ it's hot just stick on the back of laverne, you have more footspeed
300m to go
I think he's dying
200m to go
He's definitely dying, I'm clipping his heels and I haven't even changed gears yet.
100m to go
I give everything and float by him cross the line jesus it hurts why does it hurt so much i dont remember this pain fuck its hot
I spend the next 30min in a combination of jogging and vomiting.
The time isn't as fast as I would have liked, but you can never be too upset with a PR.
The issue: It puts me at #5 on the conference lists for the 1500, but I got knocked down to #9 on the 800m list. So what do I run at conference?
I don't think I can win the 1500, it's stronger up top, but making finals and scoring is basically assured. I could actually win the 800 if I run spectacular, the #1 mark is naught more than 1.5s ahead of me from a time I ran over a month ago.
BUT, there are so many people so close together, I could not even make the final. Or if I do I could not even place.
But I could win.
I'm gambling. Do I place my bet on a sure thing with slim risk and small reward? Or do I place my bet on a high-risk ticket, with huge reward?
Decisions like these kill me.
The plan: Have me pace through 500/600meters @ 63s pace, then have our faster guys take over and drag me through the rest of the race.
The goal: Beat LaVerne's #1, AND make him tired enough to be a non-factor doubling back in the 5k later on. Also, personally, go sub4.
The Race.
The gun goes and two LaVerne guys burst out to the early lead. I settle in, content with their pace but they slow. A hand wave from a teammate at 200m tells me that this is not what we planned for. I move up and push
We go through 300m just on 49seconds, and 400m just on 64 seconds. I continue to push the pace, but settle into something more feasible. 63s. As I start to slow down a tad just before 800m, my teammates take over. 2:07, me 2:08
I hang and hang jesus christ it's hot just stick on the back of laverne, you have more footspeed
300m to go
I think he's dying
200m to go
He's definitely dying, I'm clipping his heels and I haven't even changed gears yet.
100m to go
I give everything and float by him cross the line jesus it hurts why does it hurt so much i dont remember this pain fuck its hot
I spend the next 30min in a combination of jogging and vomiting.
The time isn't as fast as I would have liked, but you can never be too upset with a PR.
The issue: It puts me at #5 on the conference lists for the 1500, but I got knocked down to #9 on the 800m list. So what do I run at conference?
I don't think I can win the 1500, it's stronger up top, but making finals and scoring is basically assured. I could actually win the 800 if I run spectacular, the #1 mark is naught more than 1.5s ahead of me from a time I ran over a month ago.
BUT, there are so many people so close together, I could not even make the final. Or if I do I could not even place.
But I could win.
I'm gambling. Do I place my bet on a sure thing with slim risk and small reward? Or do I place my bet on a high-risk ticket, with huge reward?
Decisions like these kill me.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Cal/Nevadas
Last weekend, Claremont hosted Cal/Nevadas for the first time in school history. Actually the first time a DIII school has ever hosted it.
Cal/Nevadas is a big, mid-season (for us, early season for DI) invitational in which the top 36 entries from ANY college in California or Nevada may run. All running events under 1500m have prelims, with finals the next day.
My odds at sneaking into this meet with a 1:56.low PR were slim. Luckily, UCLA decided to head up to Stanford invite this year, so I got into the meet in what can only be described as a soft year for distances.
I was pumped to run here, as it is one of the measuring sticks of success for our team, but scared at the same time because of the quality of the field. I was in the 4th heat, and wasn't a very high seed - even in my heat.
Top 9 of the 36 entries made finals, so I was just content with sitting back and being pulled to a fast time by some top quality DI runners.
Everything about the meet was intense. The times were fast, the crowd large, and the sound they made larger. Even the check-in procedure was intense. I nervously warmed up, feeling pretty good from taking the last couple of days easy. When it was time, the clerk collected all of the 800 runners, and had us walk behind him, down the practice field, onto the track, and around the bend to the start line as the respective cheers for teammates already started.
I felt like I was being paraded about. It was pretty awesome (in the literal sense).
I had delayed my warm up a tad, because I was in the 4th heat of 4, so I had probably an extra 10min before my heat from the first one. As the heats are running and I being to spike up, I'm noticing that the times are relatively slow for the caliber of the field. There's a gnarly wind on the back stretch, which deterred leading by a lot of the top guys.
The sneaking suspicion that I might be able to sneak into the final on time crosses my mind briefly, but I dismiss it as a pipe dream and focus on my race.
As the gun goes 1:45.0 runner Charles Jock burst out in front, the pace light for him but harsh for me - someone 11 seconds his junior
I go through in 56.1, perfectly on what I wanted to do. As we head around the front bend and onto the backstretch for the second time, I move up to get on the inside. With 250m, I decide to go. Hard.
I hammer up but am held off by a few of the better runners, who cover my move well. I sit in 4th place going into the bend: 1:24.5.
Ouch, a little quick for the 3rd 200.
I start to fade in the last 100m, but hold on alright and dip under 1:56 for the first time, totally spent. 5th in my heat, but still happy with the time as that was the goal going in. I made some mistakes in tactics, so I know I can improve. A good day.
As I gather my things and walk across the field, back to the warm up area, I hear over the loudspeaker:
"The four winners of each heat move on plus the 5 next fastest times, which are Johnathan Evans from Long Beach State, Rusty Parker from UC Santa Barbara, Cameron Mitchell of UC Irvine, Dustin Harris of UC San Diego..."
a pause.
"..And with a nice PR, Quinn Chasan of CMS rounds out our qualifying spots in 9th."
I can't believe it. Seriously. I had to check the results. I run off, looking for someone to hug.
Oh, and I came back the next day and got obliterated by a rested up DI field.
The glimmering tastes of success are the reason I run.
I slept like a baby that night.
Cal/Nevadas is a big, mid-season (for us, early season for DI) invitational in which the top 36 entries from ANY college in California or Nevada may run. All running events under 1500m have prelims, with finals the next day.
My odds at sneaking into this meet with a 1:56.low PR were slim. Luckily, UCLA decided to head up to Stanford invite this year, so I got into the meet in what can only be described as a soft year for distances.
I was pumped to run here, as it is one of the measuring sticks of success for our team, but scared at the same time because of the quality of the field. I was in the 4th heat, and wasn't a very high seed - even in my heat.
Top 9 of the 36 entries made finals, so I was just content with sitting back and being pulled to a fast time by some top quality DI runners.
Everything about the meet was intense. The times were fast, the crowd large, and the sound they made larger. Even the check-in procedure was intense. I nervously warmed up, feeling pretty good from taking the last couple of days easy. When it was time, the clerk collected all of the 800 runners, and had us walk behind him, down the practice field, onto the track, and around the bend to the start line as the respective cheers for teammates already started.
I felt like I was being paraded about. It was pretty awesome (in the literal sense).
I had delayed my warm up a tad, because I was in the 4th heat of 4, so I had probably an extra 10min before my heat from the first one. As the heats are running and I being to spike up, I'm noticing that the times are relatively slow for the caliber of the field. There's a gnarly wind on the back stretch, which deterred leading by a lot of the top guys.
The sneaking suspicion that I might be able to sneak into the final on time crosses my mind briefly, but I dismiss it as a pipe dream and focus on my race.
As the gun goes 1:45.0 runner Charles Jock burst out in front, the pace light for him but harsh for me - someone 11 seconds his junior
I go through in 56.1, perfectly on what I wanted to do. As we head around the front bend and onto the backstretch for the second time, I move up to get on the inside. With 250m, I decide to go. Hard.
I hammer up but am held off by a few of the better runners, who cover my move well. I sit in 4th place going into the bend: 1:24.5.
Ouch, a little quick for the 3rd 200.
I start to fade in the last 100m, but hold on alright and dip under 1:56 for the first time, totally spent. 5th in my heat, but still happy with the time as that was the goal going in. I made some mistakes in tactics, so I know I can improve. A good day.
As I gather my things and walk across the field, back to the warm up area, I hear over the loudspeaker:
"The four winners of each heat move on plus the 5 next fastest times, which are Johnathan Evans from Long Beach State, Rusty Parker from UC Santa Barbara, Cameron Mitchell of UC Irvine, Dustin Harris of UC San Diego..."
a pause.
"..And with a nice PR, Quinn Chasan of CMS rounds out our qualifying spots in 9th."
I can't believe it. Seriously. I had to check the results. I run off, looking for someone to hug.
Oh, and I came back the next day and got obliterated by a rested up DI field.
The glimmering tastes of success are the reason I run.
I slept like a baby that night.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Mid Season development
I'm starting to get the hang of the pop in my legs. We've put the training-through phase on hold for a moment as we grapple for a few good times at Oxy Distance Carnival and Cal/Nevada Championships.
After a couple of 800s in 1:56.0 and 1:56.4 respectively, plus a couple of insanely harsh workouts, my speed is starting to develop into what I'm wanting to to. I still have a ways to go, but 26s 200s feel comfortable, and that is a step in the right direction.
Yesterday was a good indicator. A staple workout we have is called the '500 breakdown.' It goes 500-400-300, 7min recovery. All out. That's it. Sounds easy? It's ridiculously hard. You're essentially in three separate races. Against your teammates. Against yourself. Against the clock.
I usually lead the first 200m of most reps, simply because the other guys aren't the best pacers in the world. But this workout isn't about pace, you just go all out.
15min warmup, then spike up.
The long warmup gives us time to feel out our muscles after spring break. We've had a pretty easy last couple of days, so everyone should feel good. At least to some degree.
On the line for the 500, the mood is a little tense. Everyone knows how much this workout hurts.
As we fly around the turn and down the backstretch, I settle in. 200m passed in 26.low. Nothing I haven't done before.
Coming around the turn for the home straight I feel good. I have another gear. Lets use it
I change gears and pass the 400m mark in 53.5. 67 for the 500.
7min of sauntering about, trying to stay loose before the hamstrings lock up and stay that way.
400m - 54/55
7min of stumbling about, trying to get rid of the locked hamstrings.
Final 100m of the 300, and everyone is in their own world. The Pain has shifted to track mode. Unquestionably, unequivocally, track mode.
The next 45min are a daze. Runners are strewn about the track premises, throwing up, shuffle jogging, clutching their sides, legs, head, the grass. We are a mess.
But the speed pays off. How much can a race hurt when you hurt this much in practice?
Let me tell you,
not as much.
After a couple of 800s in 1:56.0 and 1:56.4 respectively, plus a couple of insanely harsh workouts, my speed is starting to develop into what I'm wanting to to. I still have a ways to go, but 26s 200s feel comfortable, and that is a step in the right direction.
Yesterday was a good indicator. A staple workout we have is called the '500 breakdown.' It goes 500-400-300, 7min recovery. All out. That's it. Sounds easy? It's ridiculously hard. You're essentially in three separate races. Against your teammates. Against yourself. Against the clock.
I usually lead the first 200m of most reps, simply because the other guys aren't the best pacers in the world. But this workout isn't about pace, you just go all out.
15min warmup, then spike up.
The long warmup gives us time to feel out our muscles after spring break. We've had a pretty easy last couple of days, so everyone should feel good. At least to some degree.
On the line for the 500, the mood is a little tense. Everyone knows how much this workout hurts.
As we fly around the turn and down the backstretch, I settle in. 200m passed in 26.low. Nothing I haven't done before.
Coming around the turn for the home straight I feel good. I have another gear. Lets use it
I change gears and pass the 400m mark in 53.5. 67 for the 500.
7min of sauntering about, trying to stay loose before the hamstrings lock up and stay that way.
400m - 54/55
7min of stumbling about, trying to get rid of the locked hamstrings.
Final 100m of the 300, and everyone is in their own world. The Pain has shifted to track mode. Unquestionably, unequivocally, track mode.
The next 45min are a daze. Runners are strewn about the track premises, throwing up, shuffle jogging, clutching their sides, legs, head, the grass. We are a mess.
But the speed pays off. How much can a race hurt when you hurt this much in practice?
Let me tell you,
not as much.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Training Through.
The biggest difference between high school and college for me is the training method known as "training through."
Basically, you disregard running well on a random Saturday meet in order to get an extra hard day or two of training in that week. Repeat this for 10 weeks and you probably are a bit stronger than you would've been had you taken that day easy.
The thing is, this means you run pretty poorly in races, because your legs are toast at the starting line.
This week was a perfect example. Tuesday was one of the hardest speed workouts I've ever done, wednesday was a typical base run, which allowed us to recover for thursday - a long interval workout with little rest inbetween. This made us tired for friday, which was another typical base EXCEPT this time we were lucky enough to have a 2mile tempo in the middle of it.
Flash forward to saturday, and I'm struggling with my warm up.
Not exactly what I would call pleasant.
The race was odd, because I was aerobically walking, but anaerobically obliterated. I kept looking down thinking - "come on legs do something." but nothing came.
I understand this process, I've seen it work wonders. And, god willing, it probably will for me too. But it's not the feel-good challenge that you are used to.
I love racing, toeing the line even with my competitors and putting it all out there. But that's the thing - when we do stuff like this, it's frustrating because I know that if I had taken the last couple days easy I would've stomped them. I ran about 8 seconds slower than I'm currently capable of, and that is fucking infuriating.
But I know that eventually I'll feel good, and I'll get a shot at doing what I do best.
Racing fresh.
It's just making sure I can survive the path there that's the problem.
Basically, you disregard running well on a random Saturday meet in order to get an extra hard day or two of training in that week. Repeat this for 10 weeks and you probably are a bit stronger than you would've been had you taken that day easy.
The thing is, this means you run pretty poorly in races, because your legs are toast at the starting line.
This week was a perfect example. Tuesday was one of the hardest speed workouts I've ever done, wednesday was a typical base run, which allowed us to recover for thursday - a long interval workout with little rest inbetween. This made us tired for friday, which was another typical base EXCEPT this time we were lucky enough to have a 2mile tempo in the middle of it.
Flash forward to saturday, and I'm struggling with my warm up.
Not exactly what I would call pleasant.
The race was odd, because I was aerobically walking, but anaerobically obliterated. I kept looking down thinking - "come on legs do something." but nothing came.
I understand this process, I've seen it work wonders. And, god willing, it probably will for me too. But it's not the feel-good challenge that you are used to.
I love racing, toeing the line even with my competitors and putting it all out there. But that's the thing - when we do stuff like this, it's frustrating because I know that if I had taken the last couple days easy I would've stomped them. I ran about 8 seconds slower than I'm currently capable of, and that is fucking infuriating.
But I know that eventually I'll feel good, and I'll get a shot at doing what I do best.
Racing fresh.
It's just making sure I can survive the path there that's the problem.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
The Library
There is a phenomenon I've been noticing on the track lately. I call it The Library.
It's fairly rare, maybe once every two weeks or so, but when it happens it's impossible to miss.
The entire team is running threshold intervals, and they are on the shorter side. 600m on the high end.
This is a time where everyone is focused inward, as the pace given is going to be far from a cakewalk. Around and around the symphonic beats strike to a different rhythm but to the same tune. As the line is crossed, the repetition ends and slowly the lone runners come together in groups and pairs to jog around the infield in between sets, keeping the legs warm. Twos and threes, sometimes fours and fives but never more than five. The infield is alive with the slow, recovering pace of weary footprints.
And everything is silent.
There's really nothing to talk about. A grunt of disdain, barely audible creeps it way out of those who are having a worse day than others. A hushed whisper between a pair on the other side of the field is completely inaudible to everyone else. Never intentionally - simply for lack of air.
There's really nothing to talk about. Everyone has been here countless hours, preparing for some far off test. Communication isn't necessary, and simply takes the mind off of the task at hand. What is important is focusing on yourself recovering, preparing, staying loose, and staying confident. positive. hopeful.
So we circle the field as a collective family of 50, stumbling along like lethargic ants in chaos; everything silent.
Because there's really nothing to talk about.
It's fairly rare, maybe once every two weeks or so, but when it happens it's impossible to miss.
The entire team is running threshold intervals, and they are on the shorter side. 600m on the high end.
This is a time where everyone is focused inward, as the pace given is going to be far from a cakewalk. Around and around the symphonic beats strike to a different rhythm but to the same tune. As the line is crossed, the repetition ends and slowly the lone runners come together in groups and pairs to jog around the infield in between sets, keeping the legs warm. Twos and threes, sometimes fours and fives but never more than five. The infield is alive with the slow, recovering pace of weary footprints.
And everything is silent.
There's really nothing to talk about. A grunt of disdain, barely audible creeps it way out of those who are having a worse day than others. A hushed whisper between a pair on the other side of the field is completely inaudible to everyone else. Never intentionally - simply for lack of air.
There's really nothing to talk about. Everyone has been here countless hours, preparing for some far off test. Communication isn't necessary, and simply takes the mind off of the task at hand. What is important is focusing on yourself recovering, preparing, staying loose, and staying confident. positive. hopeful.
So we circle the field as a collective family of 50, stumbling along like lethargic ants in chaos; everything silent.
Because there's really nothing to talk about.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
The Alumni Meet
The first test on many track teams is often a low-key, awkward-distance-event oriented meet like an alumni meet or a dual meet with a team close by. For us it was the former, and I was slated to run the 1000m and the 4x4.
Now, I had a good winter. A great winter. My measuring stick? This is the only winter I've actually had running training. Ever.
During high school, I swam over the winter and put my focus on that. As I got better at running, I stuck with swimming to give myself a mental break, and on a more superficial level to collect 12 varsity letters throughout high school.
Pride. Sue me.
Last year, I was hurt from mid-October through January, and my 2 weeks of winter base training before I got back to school obviously wasn't enough to put me on a good level aerobically to have a great start.
But not this year. This year I killed everything over winter. I hammered my runs mercilessly, because there was nothing to peak for. No race to prepare for. I would have weeks where my average pace would be 6:08 for 55+ miles. That was on average. I iced regularly to prevent injury, and in general just looked ahead to see what I could do come spring. Come track.
And last weekend, track came.
I was confident in my aerobic ability, and was looking for the win. I know it's just a rinky-dink alumni meet. I know it means nothing in the long run. I know beating a 4:10 miler and a 4:15 miler in the first week of February has absolutely no effect on what I'm capable of in April/May.
But dammit, I wanted to race, and I wanted to win.
Unsure if I could out-strength those with faster marks than me, I decided I would rely on my speed. Basically, I wouldn't lead until I chose my spot to go and simply hammer away from everyone with raw speed. Simple enough plan, but everything sounds easier in your head than in your legs.
1000m on the track. The gun goes, and the 20+ of us jostle for position, and I settle on the rail in 4th as the pack hugs the first turn. The first 150m is fast, but then the leader (a 400/800m runner) decided that he doesn't like the position that he's in, and he slows down, assuming someone will pass him.
No one does, and the pace just drops like a rock. I'm stuck on the rail as I pass by 300m and I spend the back stretch maneuvering my way outside, afraid I'll miss a sudden move, but not before we go through 400m in 64. 64 is very, very slow.
As we go around the turn our 4:15 guy slowly works his way to the lead, and with 500m he decides to go. Hard.
stay calm, cover the move. good just coast behind, he's hammering but you have another gear you have another gear
I drift along behind him as we hit the bell, unaware if anyone has followed us. Unaware if we'll get passed. We come around the turn and with 300m he starts to lose a step, then 2 steps. I look down to make sure I don't clip his heels. I'm going to clip his heels. I move outside.
Just after the 300m mark I make my bid for home. I meet resistance down the straight, but I get my step and a half and I catch the pole a few yards before the turn.
Change gears. drive, drive, drive...
Faces of encouragement flash by. I dont know what we hit 800 in. As I come up on the last 100m I can't hear footsteps behind me. I look back once, twice, three times. Not the best idea but I don't care about the time, I just care about the win.
I run something between 2:32 and 2:34, depending on who you ask. My last 200m is somewhere between 27 and 30, depending on who you ask.
But I won, and I passed my little first test.
Came back an hour later to split 53.2 in the 4x4. Not a bad day.
More speed wouldn't hurt though.
Now, I had a good winter. A great winter. My measuring stick? This is the only winter I've actually had running training. Ever.
During high school, I swam over the winter and put my focus on that. As I got better at running, I stuck with swimming to give myself a mental break, and on a more superficial level to collect 12 varsity letters throughout high school.
Pride. Sue me.
Last year, I was hurt from mid-October through January, and my 2 weeks of winter base training before I got back to school obviously wasn't enough to put me on a good level aerobically to have a great start.
But not this year. This year I killed everything over winter. I hammered my runs mercilessly, because there was nothing to peak for. No race to prepare for. I would have weeks where my average pace would be 6:08 for 55+ miles. That was on average. I iced regularly to prevent injury, and in general just looked ahead to see what I could do come spring. Come track.
And last weekend, track came.
I was confident in my aerobic ability, and was looking for the win. I know it's just a rinky-dink alumni meet. I know it means nothing in the long run. I know beating a 4:10 miler and a 4:15 miler in the first week of February has absolutely no effect on what I'm capable of in April/May.
But dammit, I wanted to race, and I wanted to win.
Unsure if I could out-strength those with faster marks than me, I decided I would rely on my speed. Basically, I wouldn't lead until I chose my spot to go and simply hammer away from everyone with raw speed. Simple enough plan, but everything sounds easier in your head than in your legs.
1000m on the track. The gun goes, and the 20+ of us jostle for position, and I settle on the rail in 4th as the pack hugs the first turn. The first 150m is fast, but then the leader (a 400/800m runner) decided that he doesn't like the position that he's in, and he slows down, assuming someone will pass him.
No one does, and the pace just drops like a rock. I'm stuck on the rail as I pass by 300m and I spend the back stretch maneuvering my way outside, afraid I'll miss a sudden move, but not before we go through 400m in 64. 64 is very, very slow.
As we go around the turn our 4:15 guy slowly works his way to the lead, and with 500m he decides to go. Hard.
stay calm, cover the move. good just coast behind, he's hammering but you have another gear you have another gear
I drift along behind him as we hit the bell, unaware if anyone has followed us. Unaware if we'll get passed. We come around the turn and with 300m he starts to lose a step, then 2 steps. I look down to make sure I don't clip his heels. I'm going to clip his heels. I move outside.
Just after the 300m mark I make my bid for home. I meet resistance down the straight, but I get my step and a half and I catch the pole a few yards before the turn.
Change gears. drive, drive, drive...
Faces of encouragement flash by. I dont know what we hit 800 in. As I come up on the last 100m I can't hear footsteps behind me. I look back once, twice, three times. Not the best idea but I don't care about the time, I just care about the win.
I run something between 2:32 and 2:34, depending on who you ask. My last 200m is somewhere between 27 and 30, depending on who you ask.
But I won, and I passed my little first test.
Came back an hour later to split 53.2 in the 4x4. Not a bad day.
More speed wouldn't hurt though.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Track: Commence
I'll be brief.
I've technically been in track training since I got back to school on the 18th, but yesterday was our first actual hard track workout.
The workout was 2x(6x300), 75sec rest between intervals and 5min rest between the 2 sets.
The goal pace given to me was 46.5, but I went
46.5, 45.5, 46, 46, 46, 46 / 46.5, 46.5, 46, 46, 46, 45
averaging EXACTLY 46s per rep if I did my math right.
Felt fantastic.
Usually I have an issue on these workouts of having to really grind out the last 100m to hit the split right on, but today I just kept my arm form in check, tried to keep my leg swing high and stride rate up while staying relaxed, and I can honestly say that they didn't really HURT until the last 50m of the last 2 or 3.
Getting in shape is fun, especially when you're getting to a place where you've never been. It's exciting to compare yourself to.....yourself in years past and realize that you've never been this fit in your entire life.
In January.
What's gonna happen in April?
I've technically been in track training since I got back to school on the 18th, but yesterday was our first actual hard track workout.
The workout was 2x(6x300), 75sec rest between intervals and 5min rest between the 2 sets.
The goal pace given to me was 46.5, but I went
46.5, 45.5, 46, 46, 46, 46 / 46.5, 46.5, 46, 46, 46, 45
averaging EXACTLY 46s per rep if I did my math right.
Felt fantastic.
Usually I have an issue on these workouts of having to really grind out the last 100m to hit the split right on, but today I just kept my arm form in check, tried to keep my leg swing high and stride rate up while staying relaxed, and I can honestly say that they didn't really HURT until the last 50m of the last 2 or 3.
Getting in shape is fun, especially when you're getting to a place where you've never been. It's exciting to compare yourself to.....yourself in years past and realize that you've never been this fit in your entire life.
In January.
What's gonna happen in April?
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Dualism
There's an ongoing play running through my life, balancing running and everything else that I do. My mind is naturally forward looking, and it creates interesting phenomenon that I've picked up on as I pass the time on runs, left with nothing but my thoughts.
When it's just one of those days when you're out on a base or long run, just one of those days when you're doing the work because it has to be done, when it's just one of those days that you'll never remember looking back on your career, those are when you think the most to pass the time. Sometimes I think academically about a philosophy I'm struggling with, or try to remember the specific intricacies of the Chinese-American financial exchange market history and its implications into the future, or maybe sometimes I think about some relationship issue or interesting tidbits of my day. The point is just to get lost in thought, delving deep into your own mind to create a catharsis as you juxtapose said thoughts with running.
Then there's just one of those days when you're going through the motions, when classes aren't super exciting, when nothing really happens of note. Just one of those days when the weather is outstandingly average, when you don't have much to do and are left with a dull sense of boredom, just one of those days that you'll never remember looking back on your life.
And you think about running.
All day.
Each is equally important to counterweight the other in a time of need. Like a crutch or splint, each can be brought out in the mind to create a diversion from the mundane nature of the other. The saving grace, so to speak.
Which, oddly enough, makes them equally as important in this light. For a passion to reach that level....is it healthy? I don't know. What if I get hit by a car tomorrow and I'm left without my escape. What if I trip and my legs never work again. What if the team is cut and I'm left to my own devices.
The fact that running is equally as important to me as...the rest of my life places my sanity on a precipitous balance, because I know there will be a time when I cannot do it anymore. My eggs are all in one basket, so to speak (again).
These are the rambling thoughts of a 12mile run in Chino hills, clipping mile after mile on an outstandingly average day, one of those days that I'll never remember looking back on my career, except for maybe the time when I had this thought.
When it's just one of those days when you're out on a base or long run, just one of those days when you're doing the work because it has to be done, when it's just one of those days that you'll never remember looking back on your career, those are when you think the most to pass the time. Sometimes I think academically about a philosophy I'm struggling with, or try to remember the specific intricacies of the Chinese-American financial exchange market history and its implications into the future, or maybe sometimes I think about some relationship issue or interesting tidbits of my day. The point is just to get lost in thought, delving deep into your own mind to create a catharsis as you juxtapose said thoughts with running.
Then there's just one of those days when you're going through the motions, when classes aren't super exciting, when nothing really happens of note. Just one of those days when the weather is outstandingly average, when you don't have much to do and are left with a dull sense of boredom, just one of those days that you'll never remember looking back on your life.
And you think about running.
All day.
Each is equally important to counterweight the other in a time of need. Like a crutch or splint, each can be brought out in the mind to create a diversion from the mundane nature of the other. The saving grace, so to speak.
Which, oddly enough, makes them equally as important in this light. For a passion to reach that level....is it healthy? I don't know. What if I get hit by a car tomorrow and I'm left without my escape. What if I trip and my legs never work again. What if the team is cut and I'm left to my own devices.
The fact that running is equally as important to me as...the rest of my life places my sanity on a precipitous balance, because I know there will be a time when I cannot do it anymore. My eggs are all in one basket, so to speak (again).
These are the rambling thoughts of a 12mile run in Chino hills, clipping mile after mile on an outstandingly average day, one of those days that I'll never remember looking back on my career, except for maybe the time when I had this thought.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Help!....trapped in January
Because I go to a school that is on the semester schedule instead of the quarter schedule, I have a full month off for winter break. I have a lot of free time.
A. Lot.
The first 2 weeks were great, I honestly needed the break after a long XC season followed shortly by finals.
The past week has gone by like a crawl. With nothing to do, I busy myself with menial tasks, reading, cleaning up randomly, and training.
....And training
.........And training.
As I stepped out of my warm house into the bleak Seattle winter, I was reminded of the deep deep pain that surfaced in my legs last week. The Pain returned, just in time for me to finish my winter base - how nice.
I start on my 9 mile loop to do my Fartlek, one that I have done every week without fail. I use the most familiar path. I, for one, do not like surprises when I'm tired. I'd rather stick to my routine. My legs hurt enough without an unexpected hill, up OR down on the middle of a repetition as I churn along to the beat of 5min pace.
The gun metal gray sky encompasses my vision in a bleak embrace. The road is wet from the rain, and all I hear are my footsteps marching to the rhythm of my heartbeat. They go faster, my heart goes faster. They go slower, my heart goes slower.
Miles shed behind me like I'm peeling a potato, working hard only to find the middle is also as unsightly as the skin.
The long winding path which I have chosen deceives me, I feel like I'm barely moving. This run will never end i'm walking why is my heart rate over 170 I can feel it beating whats going on
My sanity is saved by my garmin, which tells me that yes, I am moving, and yes, it is under 6min pace. Well under.
I take a right turn and my shoe gets stuck in the muck and comes off. I put it back on. I take a left turn and the road is blocked. I climb stair after stair to get around it.
The road dips down, and I fall, fall for a mile. I can see my house, and the darkness of the Seattle night is already dimming the streets. It's 4pm.
As I step out of the shower, I think "that was a pretty typical run I guess"
I'm trapped in January, the gun-metal gray sky awaiting me tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day.
And the next day after that.
A. Lot.
The first 2 weeks were great, I honestly needed the break after a long XC season followed shortly by finals.
The past week has gone by like a crawl. With nothing to do, I busy myself with menial tasks, reading, cleaning up randomly, and training.
....And training
.........And training.
As I stepped out of my warm house into the bleak Seattle winter, I was reminded of the deep deep pain that surfaced in my legs last week. The Pain returned, just in time for me to finish my winter base - how nice.
I start on my 9 mile loop to do my Fartlek, one that I have done every week without fail. I use the most familiar path. I, for one, do not like surprises when I'm tired. I'd rather stick to my routine. My legs hurt enough without an unexpected hill, up OR down on the middle of a repetition as I churn along to the beat of 5min pace.
The gun metal gray sky encompasses my vision in a bleak embrace. The road is wet from the rain, and all I hear are my footsteps marching to the rhythm of my heartbeat. They go faster, my heart goes faster. They go slower, my heart goes slower.
Miles shed behind me like I'm peeling a potato, working hard only to find the middle is also as unsightly as the skin.
The long winding path which I have chosen deceives me, I feel like I'm barely moving. This run will never end i'm walking why is my heart rate over 170 I can feel it beating whats going on
My sanity is saved by my garmin, which tells me that yes, I am moving, and yes, it is under 6min pace. Well under.
I take a right turn and my shoe gets stuck in the muck and comes off. I put it back on. I take a left turn and the road is blocked. I climb stair after stair to get around it.
The road dips down, and I fall, fall for a mile. I can see my house, and the darkness of the Seattle night is already dimming the streets. It's 4pm.
As I step out of the shower, I think "that was a pretty typical run I guess"
I'm trapped in January, the gun-metal gray sky awaiting me tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day.
And the next day after that.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
The Paradox of Fitness
Runners count their stepping stones by mileage. It's nearly always been done this way. If I run 70 miles a week, that's better than running 60 miles a week. Period.
But as I get fitter, I've realized something interesting. My base runs have gotten faster, so 8 miles takes me between 46-51min on average, whereas over summer it took me 54-55.
I compared a 60 mile week from winter to a 60 mile week from summer, and the physical time I spent running during winter was about a full 50 MINUTES less than summer. On a particularly down week when I wasn't feeling great over summer, I ran nearly a min slower per mile than I do now.
Interestingly, this means that while I am running more mileage, I am actually running LESS or at the very least THE SAME amount as I was, despite my increase in mileage.
Seb Coe, on of the greatest mid distance runners of all time, stressed quality over quantity. He said even during his heaviest base he never ran more than 70 miles a week, and usually ran 55-60. Being generous, lets say his base runs were at 5:20 pace (they were probably faster). That means that an 8mile run takes him all of 43ish minutes.
Overall, Seb actually ran over an hour less than the average 4:30 miler would run, doing the same amount of miles in a week.
The phenomenon of high mileage needs to be put into perspective. While my mileage may "jump" the next time I go through my base phase, the perspective needed is not the amount of miles covered, but the TIME RAN in total.
There's really nothing else to this, but it is something to keep in mind when you hear elite athletes running 100 miles a week, because it's basically like you running 65-70. They're that much better.
Still though, if I can get to a point where 100 miles a week takes as long as, say, 85 miles used to, that would be pretty sweet.
Time is a far better measure than miles, but miles sure do make you feel more accomplished than the unforgiving clock.
But as I get fitter, I've realized something interesting. My base runs have gotten faster, so 8 miles takes me between 46-51min on average, whereas over summer it took me 54-55.
I compared a 60 mile week from winter to a 60 mile week from summer, and the physical time I spent running during winter was about a full 50 MINUTES less than summer. On a particularly down week when I wasn't feeling great over summer, I ran nearly a min slower per mile than I do now.
Interestingly, this means that while I am running more mileage, I am actually running LESS or at the very least THE SAME amount as I was, despite my increase in mileage.
Seb Coe, on of the greatest mid distance runners of all time, stressed quality over quantity. He said even during his heaviest base he never ran more than 70 miles a week, and usually ran 55-60. Being generous, lets say his base runs were at 5:20 pace (they were probably faster). That means that an 8mile run takes him all of 43ish minutes.
Overall, Seb actually ran over an hour less than the average 4:30 miler would run, doing the same amount of miles in a week.
The phenomenon of high mileage needs to be put into perspective. While my mileage may "jump" the next time I go through my base phase, the perspective needed is not the amount of miles covered, but the TIME RAN in total.
There's really nothing else to this, but it is something to keep in mind when you hear elite athletes running 100 miles a week, because it's basically like you running 65-70. They're that much better.
Still though, if I can get to a point where 100 miles a week takes as long as, say, 85 miles used to, that would be pretty sweet.
Time is a far better measure than miles, but miles sure do make you feel more accomplished than the unforgiving clock.
Monday, January 3, 2011
The Long Run
As a runner, one of my biggest weaknesses has been handling the long run well. In high school I ran very little mileage and very high intensity, so naturally a long run at a moderate/easy pace would be my problem.
Over summer I dreaded the long sundays, the 12-15miles whose only purpose is to run 7-8 miles after the first 5-6 drain your initial 2 energy systems. The long miles always destroyed me for the rest of the day, with the long run often immediately followed by a feeling-sorry-for-myself type nap.
But, that was 6 months ago. Over time, and the miles added up one by one, ten by ten, seventy-five by seventy-five. Over and over my legs pounded the unforgiving pavement, and eventually the long run pain started to fade.
Fast forward to January 1st, the first run and coincidentally first long run of the new year. An equally talented friend comes over to my house to do the long run together, because the half-marathon (& change) route which we are to take is mindnumbing alone and we slog mile after mile across the northwest hills.
Barely a word is shared as we begin. We've ran together so long, everything that has needed to be said has been said. Every philosophy I have he knows, every training principle he has I know.
The symphony of footsteps is simply soothing, as a voice in the back of my head says without words you are not alone
I intentionally leave my Garmin watch behind. The high-tech supercomputer, connected to 3 satellites that constantly triangulates my position within 5 meters tells me my pace too much, and I will be too tempted. I know exactly how long this run is, I've done it an innumerable amount of times.
So, all I have is a watch that can only tell time and run a stopwatch, which is all I need. The clock will run as we tread lightly. The long run is about heart rate, which means that the clock doesn't matter, as long as it runs for a long. time.
We pass familiar streets, focusing on staying loose on the crisp 30 degree morning. Because I've run this route so many times, I have certain benchmarks in my head. Though I don't know exactly how fast or slow we're running, the time seems quick as mile and mile roll behind us.
I cast it off as possible misinterpretation. I don't REALLY know how far we've gone.
But as we get longer and longer, I become sure. I feel fine, he seems fine, but the time is pretty quick. Really quick for a long run.
We pass the half-marathon mark, the only landmark that I have tried to memorize as we close down on the last mile. 1:24:02.
What? That means that we've been running the last 13.1 miles at 6:24 pace rolling along these northwest hills without a second thought.
After the run we share confusion. We've never run within 9 minutes of that time on this run. It is legitimately a very tough run.
We continue to talk about it, and he says something profound:
Could....we....be....getting...faster?
We just blew the tubes out on a very long run at a very fast pace for my low heart rate.
And truth be told, I feel fine. Just fine.
----Quenton Cassidy
Over summer I dreaded the long sundays, the 12-15miles whose only purpose is to run 7-8 miles after the first 5-6 drain your initial 2 energy systems. The long miles always destroyed me for the rest of the day, with the long run often immediately followed by a feeling-sorry-for-myself type nap.
But, that was 6 months ago. Over time, and the miles added up one by one, ten by ten, seventy-five by seventy-five. Over and over my legs pounded the unforgiving pavement, and eventually the long run pain started to fade.
Fast forward to January 1st, the first run and coincidentally first long run of the new year. An equally talented friend comes over to my house to do the long run together, because the half-marathon (& change) route which we are to take is mindnumbing alone and we slog mile after mile across the northwest hills.
Barely a word is shared as we begin. We've ran together so long, everything that has needed to be said has been said. Every philosophy I have he knows, every training principle he has I know.
The symphony of footsteps is simply soothing, as a voice in the back of my head says without words you are not alone
I intentionally leave my Garmin watch behind. The high-tech supercomputer, connected to 3 satellites that constantly triangulates my position within 5 meters tells me my pace too much, and I will be too tempted. I know exactly how long this run is, I've done it an innumerable amount of times.
So, all I have is a watch that can only tell time and run a stopwatch, which is all I need. The clock will run as we tread lightly. The long run is about heart rate, which means that the clock doesn't matter, as long as it runs for a long. time.
We pass familiar streets, focusing on staying loose on the crisp 30 degree morning. Because I've run this route so many times, I have certain benchmarks in my head. Though I don't know exactly how fast or slow we're running, the time seems quick as mile and mile roll behind us.
I cast it off as possible misinterpretation. I don't REALLY know how far we've gone.
But as we get longer and longer, I become sure. I feel fine, he seems fine, but the time is pretty quick. Really quick for a long run.
We pass the half-marathon mark, the only landmark that I have tried to memorize as we close down on the last mile. 1:24:02.
What? That means that we've been running the last 13.1 miles at 6:24 pace rolling along these northwest hills without a second thought.
After the run we share confusion. We've never run within 9 minutes of that time on this run. It is legitimately a very tough run.
We continue to talk about it, and he says something profound:
Could....we....be....getting...faster?
We just blew the tubes out on a very long run at a very fast pace for my low heart rate.
And truth be told, I feel fine. Just fine.
----Quenton Cassidy
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