I am on my warmup with my other 3 teammates from CMS who made the final. We pass by other 1500m runners, some with teammates, most without. There are 12 of us. Just 12. Over 100 people have run in the 1500m, and the talent pool has been whittled down to 12.
I'm on the line, again. I feel a lot more free today, I'm ranked 7th PR-wise. Top6 get All-Conference awards, and Top6 also score for their team. I have to do something special to score, I have to run very well.
I have to go out a-
My thoughts are interrupted as we are called to the line. The gun goes and we all dash out. The first 150m are quick as we stumble into our positions. I sit in 4th, but the whole pack is together.
We're out hard, but we slow after 200m or so. 65/66 through the first lap. Honest but nothing special. That's mostly because of the first 200m. We stay together through the next lap, and the pace sssssllllllooooowwwwsssssssssss
2:13/14 through the 800m mark. 67/68 or maybe even 69 for that lap. I felt like I was at a quick walks pace.
The pushing starts.
The fighters know the move is going to come, but from where? The hunters rev their minds as they gather for their attack. Who has the best speed? This is a kickers race, and those who live by the sword die by it as well. Eyes are cast all over, as the move IS coming. BUT FROM WHERE
They jockey and move for position, as I content myself with sitting in 8th. We run the next 150m at the same tempo pace, then it happens.
All the sudden someone shoots to the outside and hammers the pace, and all hell breaks loose. Everyone starts sprinting. Before I know it, I am running 62s quarter pace w/ 500m to go and I'm 2 seconds behind with a lap to go. The top4 are long gone, and are getting further away every second.
I hit the bell lap 2 seconds behind 5th place, and about a second and a half back of 6th place. After me, the rest of the field is left fumbling. I am guaranteed top7. I am guaranteed to finish in the place I am supposed to. But that is not why I came. Races are not run on paper.
With 400m to go I start to pump harder and harder. Around the bend I see the head of the guy in 6th start to move side to side. He moved too hard to early, and I get very excited. With 300m to go I legitimately barely have any gears left.
6th place comes back to me with 200m to go and he tries to hang on as I pass him. He realizes it's not going to work and that he can't stay with me and tries to run me outside in desperation.
FUCK THAT not today. This is a kickers race and you stepped into the wrong playing field
I push him off my arm and with 150m to go I just start sprinting. I glance up and I know I can catch my teammate who is dying in the last 100m.
I am 1 second behind w/ 100m to go and making up ground every step. I move out into lane 2 and furiously kick and kick and kick again. I pass him like he's standing still, and cross the line, utterly spent.
In 5th. 4:02, with the last lap of 60/61 seconds. My final 5 meters hurts so bad, but lord it is so worth it.
CMS put 4 in the top 6, aka 4 All-Conference, and 4 scoring runners.
I PR'd with a 60ish last lap, and I got Top5.
I remember writing 'Top5 in Conference' on long term goals. I was told 5 runners who would beat me in the conference.
I beat two of them.
No one knows what you are capable of but yourself.
I'm running my last meet next week, trying to break 4min in the 1500m.
My last 800m was a 2:05, and the race only really started with 550m to go. Last 600m on the order of 1:32/3.
Time to end on a good note, and take some well deserved rest.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Conference Prelims: Have you done it right?
Runners end their season at different point, but most end their season at the conference meet.
For me, this means SCIACs. Or in non-acronym form, Southern-California-Intercollegiate-Athletic-Conference(s).
We're paired with the Northwest Athletic Conference (much less cool name) to make up the Western Region in DIII. Basically, we're the Pac-10 / Mountain West of DIII (in regional status only).
My conference meet is nice, and they let everyone run, there are no standards. Unfortunately for me, this means ~35-40 people in the 1500m. Aka heats.
I've never run 1500m or 1600m or Mile heats before, but I've watched and read more than enough to know what the dealio is. 2 heats, 18/19 in each. Top4 from both heats + the next 4 fastest times qualify. The field is cut down by 2/3s.
I've had an alright season so far, and been steadily dropping a tick or two in the 1500m (the 800m is a different story, oof). I'm seeded 4th in my heat, but I'm in the first heat.
Dear god I was nervous. Knowing that you have to do something stupid NOT to qualify is far more nerve-racking than knowing you have to do something great TO qualify.
I'm calming myself down all week, but finally the race is here. I know who to look for by name, by hip number, by height, everything. And they know who I am. I know the potential spoilers, the heroes, the ones who crumble under pressure.
And they also know me. No one knows the tactics. Everyone knows the goal. To. Qualify.
Before I know it I am at the starting line.
Did I warm up enough? I dunno, im a little cold. No you're not! You're fine. The strides were quick and light. But what if I get boxed? I don't have the kick. Yes you do! You have one of the fastest 400m times in the field. What if it's fast? Then GO.
The gun goes off. I get out quick, and settle into second place behind the overall time-leader in our heat.
Mistake. The field goes around us on the turn, and I'm immediately boxed. I'm in 8th at the moment, and there's no way out. The pace is moderately slow, and a 4:35 miler tours us through the first lap in 68. HE wants to PR, and we're content to let him go. For now.
Another, slightly fater guy (4:10 1500m PR) takes the lead at the 500m mark and the pace ratchets up a little bit. All 8 of us quickly cover the move. 800m crossed in 2:14. 66 2nd lap. We go around the bend again and head down the homestraight for the penultimate time.
There's too many people here, it's not supposed to be like this. Two guys have caught up now there's 10 guys in a pack with a lap to go! Nonono what if they have a kick? I don't want to get caught by some hero in the last 200m and not qualify....damndamn I'm stuck...wait a gap! A GAP!!! Take it take it take it
The runner to my right is struggling to hold with the pace. He starts to falter and I snatch the opportunity and break free of the group. I am out into lane 2 and I move.
Hard.
I have 5 meters on the field with a lap to go, no one has covered my move. The move was decisive, and I pass through 1200m. 3:18. 64s last lap, probably 33/31.
I am running scared.I push hard but at the same time hold back, I dont want to expend unnecessary energy.
With 150m to go a Junior from La Verne with a far faster PR than I comes up on my shoulder. We're into the homestraight now, and he starts to move again.
I look back and the pack is still 10m back. Go for it man, you take it I just want to qualify you can have the prelim glory. I should slow down, but I can't have the pack of now 5 guys come back on me in the last 10m. Time it...time it....time it....
I cross the line in 2nd, 1/2 a second ahead of the pack. 4:06.
It didn't feel too bad.
Finals are the next day. I have exactly 24 hours after warmdown ended.
Time to go ice, stretch, and dear god sleep.
For me, this means SCIACs. Or in non-acronym form, Southern-California-Intercollegiate-Athletic-Conference(s).
We're paired with the Northwest Athletic Conference (much less cool name) to make up the Western Region in DIII. Basically, we're the Pac-10 / Mountain West of DIII (in regional status only).
My conference meet is nice, and they let everyone run, there are no standards. Unfortunately for me, this means ~35-40 people in the 1500m. Aka heats.
I've never run 1500m or 1600m or Mile heats before, but I've watched and read more than enough to know what the dealio is. 2 heats, 18/19 in each. Top4 from both heats + the next 4 fastest times qualify. The field is cut down by 2/3s.
I've had an alright season so far, and been steadily dropping a tick or two in the 1500m (the 800m is a different story, oof). I'm seeded 4th in my heat, but I'm in the first heat.
Dear god I was nervous. Knowing that you have to do something stupid NOT to qualify is far more nerve-racking than knowing you have to do something great TO qualify.
I'm calming myself down all week, but finally the race is here. I know who to look for by name, by hip number, by height, everything. And they know who I am. I know the potential spoilers, the heroes, the ones who crumble under pressure.
And they also know me. No one knows the tactics. Everyone knows the goal. To. Qualify.
Before I know it I am at the starting line.
Did I warm up enough? I dunno, im a little cold. No you're not! You're fine. The strides were quick and light. But what if I get boxed? I don't have the kick. Yes you do! You have one of the fastest 400m times in the field. What if it's fast? Then GO.
The gun goes off. I get out quick, and settle into second place behind the overall time-leader in our heat.
Mistake. The field goes around us on the turn, and I'm immediately boxed. I'm in 8th at the moment, and there's no way out. The pace is moderately slow, and a 4:35 miler tours us through the first lap in 68. HE wants to PR, and we're content to let him go. For now.
Another, slightly fater guy (4:10 1500m PR) takes the lead at the 500m mark and the pace ratchets up a little bit. All 8 of us quickly cover the move. 800m crossed in 2:14. 66 2nd lap. We go around the bend again and head down the homestraight for the penultimate time.
There's too many people here, it's not supposed to be like this. Two guys have caught up now there's 10 guys in a pack with a lap to go! Nonono what if they have a kick? I don't want to get caught by some hero in the last 200m and not qualify....damndamn I'm stuck...wait a gap! A GAP!!! Take it take it take it
The runner to my right is struggling to hold with the pace. He starts to falter and I snatch the opportunity and break free of the group. I am out into lane 2 and I move.
Hard.
I have 5 meters on the field with a lap to go, no one has covered my move. The move was decisive, and I pass through 1200m. 3:18. 64s last lap, probably 33/31.
I am running scared.I push hard but at the same time hold back, I dont want to expend unnecessary energy.
With 150m to go a Junior from La Verne with a far faster PR than I comes up on my shoulder. We're into the homestraight now, and he starts to move again.
I look back and the pack is still 10m back. Go for it man, you take it I just want to qualify you can have the prelim glory. I should slow down, but I can't have the pack of now 5 guys come back on me in the last 10m. Time it...time it....time it....
I cross the line in 2nd, 1/2 a second ahead of the pack. 4:06.
It didn't feel too bad.
Finals are the next day. I have exactly 24 hours after warmdown ended.
Time to go ice, stretch, and dear god sleep.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Lesson 4: The Energy
Every runner knows the Work. The Pain. The Laziness. But every runner also knows the Energy.
Long, warm summers are the antithesis of the Energy. Dark, cold winters of painfully cold mileage are the antithesis of the Energy. I would tell you what the Energy is, yet at the same time, one cannot understand what the Energy is without understanding what it is NOT. The Energy, by nature, is defined more by what it is NOT than what it is.
It is the runner's contradiction.
The deep, debilitating tired state of the runner is at its peak during base season. You have to be very tired, all the time. If you're not, you're not doing enough work. You break down, and oddly enough it is expected. You become slugging, irritable, and sleepy. Above all else, sleepy. All your body wants to do is rest and stop this madness.
Once summer is over, you get into workouts. Fartleks, tempos, intervals, hard 10mile runs, etc. The tiredness is not as deep, but it hurts more on the surface than summer did.
Once fall and workouts are over, you get into winter base for track. You go back to the debilitating, break-you-down status. Except this time - there is no solitude of sunlight. The dismal darkness is your only friend. I hope you like skiing.
Then Track and spring comes. The tired pain is gone, and replaced with the fresh pain of speed. Speed kills, and lord knows that metaphor works both ways. The track is hot, and your legs churn well over 15mph.
And FINALLY we come to it....the Energy.
You see, all of the work you've put in over the previous year, all the hard miles the deep grind, the sharpening, all this leads to a machine. Your body is a machine. It can change gears faster than the worlds best Indy racer, it can put in a surge that would leave any other mortal vomiting and clutching their sides - before you actually make it.
YOU. are ready.
The finally touch, the Coup de Grâce so to speak, is the tapering phase. You are 1-3 weeks away from conference, nationals, worlds, the Games or whatever meet you choose.
The work.....starts....decreasing? The intervals, though fast, are so easy....What...what is this feeling....
A couple reps here, a recovery run there.
I am awake at night, unable to sleep. It's 3 AM, and my energy levels are off the fucking roof. The normal debilitating work that throws me into a deep, dreamless sleep has been cast off like an unwanted blanket. My heart jumps, what is going on?
All you want to do is get out there and go. Just destroy everything that comes between you and the finish line.
THIS is a new you. The normal leg bounce you have in class is getting out of god damn control. It's like you're trying to fuck your desk your legs are bouncing and twitching so much. They talk to you. They want you to set them free.
You want to kill the workouts to get back to that feeling, but wise coaches demand you hang back, not let loose. Your legs are most important when the time comes. This dinky interval - this means nothing.
The RACE matters.
You will harness all of that Energy, all of those extra cells not used, every breath not breathed, every heartbeat not taken.
And NOTHING will get in your way.
But.
Nothing.
Long, warm summers are the antithesis of the Energy. Dark, cold winters of painfully cold mileage are the antithesis of the Energy. I would tell you what the Energy is, yet at the same time, one cannot understand what the Energy is without understanding what it is NOT. The Energy, by nature, is defined more by what it is NOT than what it is.
It is the runner's contradiction.
The deep, debilitating tired state of the runner is at its peak during base season. You have to be very tired, all the time. If you're not, you're not doing enough work. You break down, and oddly enough it is expected. You become slugging, irritable, and sleepy. Above all else, sleepy. All your body wants to do is rest and stop this madness.
Once summer is over, you get into workouts. Fartleks, tempos, intervals, hard 10mile runs, etc. The tiredness is not as deep, but it hurts more on the surface than summer did.
Once fall and workouts are over, you get into winter base for track. You go back to the debilitating, break-you-down status. Except this time - there is no solitude of sunlight. The dismal darkness is your only friend. I hope you like skiing.
Then Track and spring comes. The tired pain is gone, and replaced with the fresh pain of speed. Speed kills, and lord knows that metaphor works both ways. The track is hot, and your legs churn well over 15mph.
And FINALLY we come to it....the Energy.
You see, all of the work you've put in over the previous year, all the hard miles the deep grind, the sharpening, all this leads to a machine. Your body is a machine. It can change gears faster than the worlds best Indy racer, it can put in a surge that would leave any other mortal vomiting and clutching their sides - before you actually make it.
YOU. are ready.
The finally touch, the Coup de Grâce so to speak, is the tapering phase. You are 1-3 weeks away from conference, nationals, worlds, the Games or whatever meet you choose.
The work.....starts....decreasing? The intervals, though fast, are so easy....What...what is this feeling....
A couple reps here, a recovery run there.
I am awake at night, unable to sleep. It's 3 AM, and my energy levels are off the fucking roof. The normal debilitating work that throws me into a deep, dreamless sleep has been cast off like an unwanted blanket. My heart jumps, what is going on?
All you want to do is get out there and go. Just destroy everything that comes between you and the finish line.
THIS is a new you. The normal leg bounce you have in class is getting out of god damn control. It's like you're trying to fuck your desk your legs are bouncing and twitching so much. They talk to you. They want you to set them free.
You want to kill the workouts to get back to that feeling, but wise coaches demand you hang back, not let loose. Your legs are most important when the time comes. This dinky interval - this means nothing.
The RACE matters.
You will harness all of that Energy, all of those extra cells not used, every breath not breathed, every heartbeat not taken.
And NOTHING will get in your way.
But.
Nothing.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Dreams and Drive
We trained through last week, which was annoying because my legs were toast for my race on Saturday. Didn't really matter, but it's never fun to run slow.
When you're in a distance race, and you feel good and ready to go, you wait. When you're ready to move again, you wait. And when you finally are ready to go - you wait 200m more. Then you fucking GO.
We've trained through every meet this year. I'm not really used to the "run fast twice" mentality just yet, but I'm sure I'll get there. Conference is coming up, and the workouts are getting faster, but easier. I'm going to try to go sub4 in the 1500m final (assuming i make it, of course), but place is more important than time, so I'll run as brilliant of a tactical race as I can. Lord knows I've seen every tactic known to man, and tried most of them out, and I know my own strategy, and when to go.
I'm not someone who drops and insane amount of time throughout the season. I go out there, I run hard, and do workouts, and shave off a few tenths here, a second there. My summer (and to a lesser extent, winter) determines how fast I become.
I know I have limits, I just say fuck you and punch them in the face.
"Quinn Chasan from CMS in the lead through 1200meters...."
I've run too hard, and I know it. My legs are screaming and I can barely stay up. There's 300m to go and I can't pick my legs up. I went too hard too early and I'm paying for it. ShitShitShitShitShit. People drift by me as if I'm in a dream, a painful dream. Why'd I run a 29sec 200 in the middle of my 1500?!?! Stupid.....
That was weeks ago, and I ran 4:04. I know I can run sub4. If I do, I will be 109.344 meters away from running a sub4 mile. Every year I will cut that distance down. If you asked anyone on my team if I will run a sub4 mile in my career, they would say no. But I know what I must do. I am arguably one of the most die-hard fans on the planet, and lord knows I know my own body.
Right now, I am about 130m away from a sub4 mile.
Wittle it down, wittle it down, wittle it down.
"With 200m to go Quinn Chasan is at 3:29, he only needs a 30sec last 200m....."
And I'll think back to when I was a 4:21 miler, who could drop a 29sec 200 in the middle of his race to break free.
"And with a finishing time of 3minutes, fi-..."
and the rest is drowned out in the crowd
When you're in a distance race, and you feel good and ready to go, you wait. When you're ready to move again, you wait. And when you finally are ready to go - you wait 200m more. Then you fucking GO.
We've trained through every meet this year. I'm not really used to the "run fast twice" mentality just yet, but I'm sure I'll get there. Conference is coming up, and the workouts are getting faster, but easier. I'm going to try to go sub4 in the 1500m final (assuming i make it, of course), but place is more important than time, so I'll run as brilliant of a tactical race as I can. Lord knows I've seen every tactic known to man, and tried most of them out, and I know my own strategy, and when to go.
I'm not someone who drops and insane amount of time throughout the season. I go out there, I run hard, and do workouts, and shave off a few tenths here, a second there. My summer (and to a lesser extent, winter) determines how fast I become.
I know I have limits, I just say fuck you and punch them in the face.
"Quinn Chasan from CMS in the lead through 1200meters...."
I've run too hard, and I know it. My legs are screaming and I can barely stay up. There's 300m to go and I can't pick my legs up. I went too hard too early and I'm paying for it. ShitShitShitShitShit. People drift by me as if I'm in a dream, a painful dream. Why'd I run a 29sec 200 in the middle of my 1500?!?! Stupid.....
That was weeks ago, and I ran 4:04. I know I can run sub4. If I do, I will be 109.344 meters away from running a sub4 mile. Every year I will cut that distance down. If you asked anyone on my team if I will run a sub4 mile in my career, they would say no. But I know what I must do. I am arguably one of the most die-hard fans on the planet, and lord knows I know my own body.
Right now, I am about 130m away from a sub4 mile.
Wittle it down, wittle it down, wittle it down.
"With 200m to go Quinn Chasan is at 3:29, he only needs a 30sec last 200m....."
And I'll think back to when I was a 4:21 miler, who could drop a 29sec 200 in the middle of his race to break free.
"And with a finishing time of 3minutes, fi-..."
and the rest is drowned out in the crowd
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Running Free
Today was an easy base run, only 40min. We went out to a big public park around a lake, and did an out & back @ ~7min pace. We were just cruising, making jokes, laughing, getting pumped for the post season, summer base, and next XC season. Runners are always looking one step ahead.
This is what it's all about.
The spring sun bared down on me, the heat negated by a cool breeze coming off the water as we ran along side of it. Just me and a couple other teammates, all of us having run under 4:24 in the mile, enjoying the easiness and lightness of this run.
If a runners high existed for the non-jogging elite, we harnessed it.
To us, this is easier than walking, at a pace that would startle pedestrians. Normal people don't know what it feels like to be in this kind of shape, and usually it's not the best feeling. Constantly tired, sore, tight, and stiff.
But not these days. These are the days where we can just let cruise without getting tired, where we feel like we could run forever. These are the tapering days, that special two-three week period that comes twice year before the conference meet where the work gets very hard, but short, and the legs begin to recover quickly.
These are the peaking days.
These are the days where we can just go out and Run.
Free.
This is what it's all about.
The spring sun bared down on me, the heat negated by a cool breeze coming off the water as we ran along side of it. Just me and a couple other teammates, all of us having run under 4:24 in the mile, enjoying the easiness and lightness of this run.
If a runners high existed for the non-jogging elite, we harnessed it.
To us, this is easier than walking, at a pace that would startle pedestrians. Normal people don't know what it feels like to be in this kind of shape, and usually it's not the best feeling. Constantly tired, sore, tight, and stiff.
But not these days. These are the days where we can just let cruise without getting tired, where we feel like we could run forever. These are the tapering days, that special two-three week period that comes twice year before the conference meet where the work gets very hard, but short, and the legs begin to recover quickly.
These are the peaking days.
These are the days where we can just go out and Run.
Free.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Life DOES Revolve around.......
Yesterday, we had a pretty big invite @ Pomona. There were ~1500 entrants, aka 11 heats of the 100m, 4 heats of the 5k, etc. Everyone was in a heat where the competition was good and fierce, but not too slow and not too overwhelming. A good, solid meet.
I ran the 1500m, and with the 16th best seed time of 4:05, my goal was to run aggressively in 2nd/3rd the whole way, and kick if I could. The #1 seed time was only 4:00, so the pack would be very tight.
As the race went out, I sat in 2nd for the first lap, which we came through in at 65.high. Upset, I took the lead but made TOO strong a move, running the second lap in ~62.0, and leading the penultimate lap in 65 as well. I was dieing HARD with 400m to go, and I held on for 5th with a 4:04. That second lap just killed me, and I feel that I can run 4:00 in an even paced race. Very painful way to run.
Throughout the team, events were taking their mental toll. Some were elated with their marks, some were okay (that's me) with their marks, some were upset, and some dropped out of their events, defeated before it even finished.
We got Sunday off, so a lot of us Track types were partying together behind a dorm Saturday night. It was the usual party scene except for one distinct feature - Everyone who had run well was having a BLAST, and those who hadn't were downright depressed.
The mind of an athlete is a fragile thing, and it was interesting to see a usual charismatic 200m runner visibly morose after running 0.6 slower than his best mark. Try clapping the difference of 0.6 seconds. It's not that much time. At all. But in the world of Sprinters, 0.6 seconds is a lifetime. As far as those who live and die by the explosive power of muscles are concerned, if you're going to run 0.6 seconds slower than your previous best mark, just don't run. It's pointless.
On the flip side, a tiny Pole Vaulter who is often quiet was the bounciest and happiest I've ever seen her, and it took me several tries to understand that she had cleared a height 3 or 4 inches higher than her previous best. When you're being literally LAUNCHED into the air, well over 10' up, you would thing that the 2% difference wouldn't matter much, but to them, its a world of difference.
A 4:30 miler respects a 4:20 miler far more than a 5:00 miler does. The same goes for a 4:10 miler respecting a 4:00 miler in comparison to the same 4:20 miler. 404 ~ 4:21, so as a 4:20(ish) miler myself, I can tell you that I have tremendous respect for 4:00 milers, but in all honesty I have no idea what running at that speed feels like.
I image it hurts.
Our sport of Track & Field is tumultuous, at best. The highs and lows of really ANY athletes career is reflected back on their life in either a positive or negative light. But when the sport is purely individual, it reflects that much more on the individual. There are no teammates to fall back on, no excuse that your "touch" was off. YOU were the one who screwed up. YOU were the reason you failed. YOU were the only one controlling the event or race that you fell apart in.
Or, YOU are the person who just ran an absolutely ridiculous time.
And it feels gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood
I ran the 1500m, and with the 16th best seed time of 4:05, my goal was to run aggressively in 2nd/3rd the whole way, and kick if I could. The #1 seed time was only 4:00, so the pack would be very tight.
As the race went out, I sat in 2nd for the first lap, which we came through in at 65.high. Upset, I took the lead but made TOO strong a move, running the second lap in ~62.0, and leading the penultimate lap in 65 as well. I was dieing HARD with 400m to go, and I held on for 5th with a 4:04. That second lap just killed me, and I feel that I can run 4:00 in an even paced race. Very painful way to run.
Throughout the team, events were taking their mental toll. Some were elated with their marks, some were okay (that's me) with their marks, some were upset, and some dropped out of their events, defeated before it even finished.
We got Sunday off, so a lot of us Track types were partying together behind a dorm Saturday night. It was the usual party scene except for one distinct feature - Everyone who had run well was having a BLAST, and those who hadn't were downright depressed.
The mind of an athlete is a fragile thing, and it was interesting to see a usual charismatic 200m runner visibly morose after running 0.6 slower than his best mark. Try clapping the difference of 0.6 seconds. It's not that much time. At all. But in the world of Sprinters, 0.6 seconds is a lifetime. As far as those who live and die by the explosive power of muscles are concerned, if you're going to run 0.6 seconds slower than your previous best mark, just don't run. It's pointless.
On the flip side, a tiny Pole Vaulter who is often quiet was the bounciest and happiest I've ever seen her, and it took me several tries to understand that she had cleared a height 3 or 4 inches higher than her previous best. When you're being literally LAUNCHED into the air, well over 10' up, you would thing that the 2% difference wouldn't matter much, but to them, its a world of difference.
A 4:30 miler respects a 4:20 miler far more than a 5:00 miler does. The same goes for a 4:10 miler respecting a 4:00 miler in comparison to the same 4:20 miler. 404 ~ 4:21, so as a 4:20(ish) miler myself, I can tell you that I have tremendous respect for 4:00 milers, but in all honesty I have no idea what running at that speed feels like.
I image it hurts.
Our sport of Track & Field is tumultuous, at best. The highs and lows of really ANY athletes career is reflected back on their life in either a positive or negative light. But when the sport is purely individual, it reflects that much more on the individual. There are no teammates to fall back on, no excuse that your "touch" was off. YOU were the one who screwed up. YOU were the reason you failed. YOU were the only one controlling the event or race that you fell apart in.
Or, YOU are the person who just ran an absolutely ridiculous time.
And it feels gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
The Typical Day: Run, Puke, Rally
It was hot today. Too hot. Upper 80's at least. The workout was hard, 6x400 @ 60s, followed by 2 sets of 4x200 untimed but quick. The goal for the 200's was to run "comfortably fast."
We got a lot of rest on the 400's, about 3min, but each one was exponentially harder than the one before it due to how quick they were.
It was hot today. Too hot. After 4 my head was swooning, and I could feel my feet blistering as I pumped hard to get around the turns. I would try to go through the 200 in 29.mid so that I had some buffer for the second 200. On the 5th one, I went through right at 31.0, and my heart sank. No one likes to try and negative split workouts. I hit it though. I always hit it.
Coaches are cruel, they give you splits based off of years of experience, splits they know you can hit, but ones that you have to bust your balls to hit. They are meticulous. Cruel and meticulous (These thoughts always go through my head around the 300m mark, oddly complaining about coaches who are TOO good, know the body TOO well, and know what I am capable of probably better than I do).
It was hot today. Too hot. After the 6th rep of 400, I stumbled forward, trying to catch myself so that I wouldn't crumple. I spent a little too long with my hands on my knees, and I knew immediately as I stood up that I was going to vomit. Soon. Very soon. Very ve-.....too late. I barely made it to the bushes before I turned the lush green the color of my lunch. It's really a shame, I liked my lunch today. At least I missed my Lunas.
I shuffled around for 5min, the amount of rest we get between intervals, wishing I could run 4flat for the mile, so this shit would be easier. I wonder if it is, or if it gets harder as you get better? I guess there's only one way to find out.
It was hot today. Too hot. The combination of the heat and my unfortunate yakking made me very dehydrated, and being an idiot I drank a shitload of water on my rest between the 400's and the 200's. Even though the 200's couldn't have been much faster than the 400's pace was, dear god it hurt. I finished the 200's feeling like a drunk person driving faster than they should, and I definitely clipped the bar on the inside of the track more than once.
After that, and weights, I took an ice bath, stretched, and headed off to dinner with the team. After dinner we went our separate ways to our dorm, and I realized that we have the same routine every workout day, and that as hard as today was, it was just another normal day.
Run, puke, and rally. The name of the game is Pain, and the call and response between body and time leaves the runner cut out of fucking STONE.
It was hot today. Too hot.
We got a lot of rest on the 400's, about 3min, but each one was exponentially harder than the one before it due to how quick they were.
It was hot today. Too hot. After 4 my head was swooning, and I could feel my feet blistering as I pumped hard to get around the turns. I would try to go through the 200 in 29.mid so that I had some buffer for the second 200. On the 5th one, I went through right at 31.0, and my heart sank. No one likes to try and negative split workouts. I hit it though. I always hit it.
Coaches are cruel, they give you splits based off of years of experience, splits they know you can hit, but ones that you have to bust your balls to hit. They are meticulous. Cruel and meticulous (These thoughts always go through my head around the 300m mark, oddly complaining about coaches who are TOO good, know the body TOO well, and know what I am capable of probably better than I do).
It was hot today. Too hot. After the 6th rep of 400, I stumbled forward, trying to catch myself so that I wouldn't crumple. I spent a little too long with my hands on my knees, and I knew immediately as I stood up that I was going to vomit. Soon. Very soon. Very ve-.....too late. I barely made it to the bushes before I turned the lush green the color of my lunch. It's really a shame, I liked my lunch today. At least I missed my Lunas.
I shuffled around for 5min, the amount of rest we get between intervals, wishing I could run 4flat for the mile, so this shit would be easier. I wonder if it is, or if it gets harder as you get better? I guess there's only one way to find out.
It was hot today. Too hot. The combination of the heat and my unfortunate yakking made me very dehydrated, and being an idiot I drank a shitload of water on my rest between the 400's and the 200's. Even though the 200's couldn't have been much faster than the 400's pace was, dear god it hurt. I finished the 200's feeling like a drunk person driving faster than they should, and I definitely clipped the bar on the inside of the track more than once.
After that, and weights, I took an ice bath, stretched, and headed off to dinner with the team. After dinner we went our separate ways to our dorm, and I realized that we have the same routine every workout day, and that as hard as today was, it was just another normal day.
Run, puke, and rally. The name of the game is Pain, and the call and response between body and time leaves the runner cut out of fucking STONE.
It was hot today. Too hot.
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