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.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)