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?
Sunday, January 30, 2011
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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