It begins.
90% of the work is over, and we're basically only racing to prove to the other specimens of 3% body fat that we're better than they are. That we sacrificed more, that we WANT it more.
The C-M-S post season consists of 4 meets. Multi-Duals, Conference, West Regionals, and Nationals. Everyone runs the first 2 meets, but only the top 7 get to run Regionals, and only then if you do well there are you blessed to run at nationals.
Multi-Duals was last weekend. It's a unique sort of race. What happens is that everyone in the conference races each other, but it's scored out like a dual meet. It's a little difficult to explain, to I'll let the link do that for you.
For those who don't know, scoring works as such - each team scores their top5 runners. 6 & 7 can displace the runners from other schools, but they don't score themselves. So, 15-50 is a perfect score. It means you went 1-2-3-4-5-(6)-(7), and they had 8-9-10-11-12-(13)-(14). You could put a million people before the other teams 1st runner, and it would still only score out 15-50, because only 6 & 7 can displace.
Multi-Duals were held at La Mirada park, about an hour West of the Claremont Colleges.
The course is renowned for its difficulty. Enormous hills. 1 insanely steep fucker that is impossible to move up any faster than 7min pace, and another than is solidly steep but significantly longer.
Both of those. Twice. Plus the reverse of a long downhill to start the race. Just brutal, especially over the 8k distance.
But this is Multi-Duals. Time literally means nothing. It's place. Place means everything.
Today, I'm worried about 2 things. First, is placing in relation to other teams within my expectations. There are 110ish runner in the race, and anything worse than 15th would be considered a failure.
Second, my place on the team. As these two races (Multi's and Conference) are the essentially the deciding factors in the Regional and ultimately National squad, top7 is also a must.
Now, it may sound odd that I'm worried about being top7 on my team if 15th is the lowest I want to finish in the race. That means that our team's top7 are on par with the rest of the conference combined, right?
Right.
My task isn't an easy one it seems.
Runners have their strengths and their weaknesses just like (and likely moreso) than all other sports. My strengths are speed, speed endurance, and maintaining a rhythm on smooth courses. Hills aren't the problem, as long as they are gradual and the ground isn't too chopped up.
La Mirada......does not play to my strengths.
The hills are brutal. They sap the speed out of the legs. The ground is choppy, wet, slick, and muddy. It cuts the stride, throwing it off balance.
My task isn't an easy one at all it seems.
The wait is the worst I think to myself as I step off the bus. It's raining slightly. The dew is still on the grass as the teams set up their tents. It'll probably still be there when the race starts, when it ends. When we run.
I shuffle into my pre-race routine. That is - anything that wastes time. Just to calm me down slow my nerves. Yes, this course doesn't fit me. Yes, on paper I'm in a bad spot. But just because I'm not GREAT at something doesn't mean I'm not GOOD at it. Right? Right??.....
Convincing yourself on a foggy Saturday morning is a hard thing to do. La Mirada means "look" in Spanish. It's as if the course is taunting me. LOOK AT ME it says. LOOK what you have gotten yourself into. LOOK at the pain you are about to go through, just to fail. Just to disappoint yourself. LOOK. AT. ME.
No, no. Out. GET OUT.
I'm shaken by my own thoughts. No time, no time. I'm at the starting line. Not the right mental state to be in. Strides are done. We come in for final instructions. Finals words.
The thoughts of our team chanting together still ringing in my ears.
WE LIVE
AS ONE
WE RUN
AS ONE
EVERY DAY
AS ONE
EVERY MORNING
AS ONE
WE ARE
AS ONE
AS one
As one
as one....
I'm in the lead at the half mile. The leaders are timid to take it out. They watch each other as I float along. I don't like the huge packs of cross country. It's too dangerous. They can watch each other for as long as they want.
We're just passing the 1 1/2 point. There's no mark, but I know where it is. I'm sitting in 13th, right where I want to be. I'm relatively comfortable, sitting as our 6th/7th guy, just cruising with a teammate. Holding form as I try not to think about the pain that is to come. Focus on NOW.
We take a sharp right hand turn and I wipe my brow as I go by. I plant with my right foot as I turn...right. Mistake. It catches nothing. I'm in the air, horizontally. I hit the ground hard and roll, mud once spattered now caked along my right side. get up Get Up GET UP GET UP NOW
I'm trying to catch the pack but my legs are slow to respond. I count and I've (literally) fallen back into 17th within half a mile, as our 9th guy.
Not. Good.
I fight my way back. mile 3, 16th. Still 9th guy.
Mile 3.5, 15th, 8th guy.
Mile 4, 13th, 6th guy.
The last enormous hill is about 800m away from the finish. Literally the worst place to put a hill. We push up it. I move away from the Occidental runner that I'm with. A teammate passes me. I pass 2 teammates.
Turn right. Watch your feet. Finish. That's all I can muster to think.
It's over. I'm 12th. Our 5th guy. Our team didn't run the best race, but we won. 7-0.
One more like that, and it's on to Regionals.
Then Nationals. The thought gets me excited.
You're not there yet......
Go away. I'll be there.
If you fail next week.....
I won't.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Cross Country STRENGTH
My biggest weakness as a runner is undoubtedly my lack of strength over long distances. Guys who I would mop up on the track shitcan me on the daily over anything longer than 2k. So, my plan this summer was simple.
Run long distance, early and often. Up the mileage.
Now, there's a fine balance during summer training between the amount of miles one runs and the quality of said miles. If you do too much long miles, you may not get the speed you desire by the end of the season. If you do too much interval & tempo work, you may not get the endurance you want by the end of the season.
Well, I threw out a gamble this summer. I banked on my natural speed and just did as much volume as I could possibly handle. 75 mile weeks were my cap it seemed, as I could barely manage that. From a normal persons perspective, that's a lot. From a collegiate athletes perspective, that's a normal workload. Hence why I've been a bit behind these previous 4-5 years.
When I came into the season, I was totally devoid of any strength. The top guys were running 1k intervals in 2:46-7, and I was running them in 3:03-4, back at about 16th. They were doing tempo runs after long hard days in 23-4 minutes when I was doing them in 25-26. I was tired, beat, and my early grades suffered a bit.
But I had faith. My legs were 'empty' in terms of hard work, and I trusted that the rigorous program set out by Coach Goldhammer would get me there in time.
As we went through the season, I was running pretty well for my own right. I set bests here and there, I even ran 25:54 which is a huge personal best for me. Around the middle of the season, I was running those same 1k loops in 2:54-5, hanging around 10th-11th on the team. I was doing those long, 10mile hard runs at around the same placement as well.
And the work kept coming. Push today, catch my stride, workWorkWORK. Throw up maybe. Ice daily maybe. Stay injury free. It'll come. It'll come.
Please come in time.
And about a week ago, something clicked. Those 1k loops were now 2:45-47. I was up with the top few. I even LED a couple reps. Staying close on tempo runs, running 23:54 for my tempo, which I ran in 25:14 earlier.
Drifting along the grass at 5:35 pace, feeling like a dream. Smooth. SO smooth. It's coming together nicely.
And hey, this Cross Country shit doesn't feel too bad after all.
Run long distance, early and often. Up the mileage.
Now, there's a fine balance during summer training between the amount of miles one runs and the quality of said miles. If you do too much long miles, you may not get the speed you desire by the end of the season. If you do too much interval & tempo work, you may not get the endurance you want by the end of the season.
Well, I threw out a gamble this summer. I banked on my natural speed and just did as much volume as I could possibly handle. 75 mile weeks were my cap it seemed, as I could barely manage that. From a normal persons perspective, that's a lot. From a collegiate athletes perspective, that's a normal workload. Hence why I've been a bit behind these previous 4-5 years.
When I came into the season, I was totally devoid of any strength. The top guys were running 1k intervals in 2:46-7, and I was running them in 3:03-4, back at about 16th. They were doing tempo runs after long hard days in 23-4 minutes when I was doing them in 25-26. I was tired, beat, and my early grades suffered a bit.
But I had faith. My legs were 'empty' in terms of hard work, and I trusted that the rigorous program set out by Coach Goldhammer would get me there in time.
As we went through the season, I was running pretty well for my own right. I set bests here and there, I even ran 25:54 which is a huge personal best for me. Around the middle of the season, I was running those same 1k loops in 2:54-5, hanging around 10th-11th on the team. I was doing those long, 10mile hard runs at around the same placement as well.
And the work kept coming. Push today, catch my stride, workWorkWORK. Throw up maybe. Ice daily maybe. Stay injury free. It'll come. It'll come.
Please come in time.
And about a week ago, something clicked. Those 1k loops were now 2:45-47. I was up with the top few. I even LED a couple reps. Staying close on tempo runs, running 23:54 for my tempo, which I ran in 25:14 earlier.
Drifting along the grass at 5:35 pace, feeling like a dream. Smooth. SO smooth. It's coming together nicely.
And hey, this Cross Country shit doesn't feel too bad after all.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Head Case.
Is the sophomore slump real? Or just in the heads of those who believe in it? Chris Derrick seemed to do well for himself last year.
I feel okay. I'm a little flat, but that was the goal of my summer training. Flat in September, sharp in November. I have a habit of not getting much faster during the course of each XC season, and I want to change that.
Something IS odd with me though. The last 3 times my heart rate went north of 180, I threw up. Once on a hard 10-miler, once on a 4.5m tempo workout, and once on 1000m repeats on grass.
Naturally, I was a bit worried when I toed the line for our 4mile dual against Westmont college, along the boardwalk of Santa Barbara's beach. It's 8am, and my warm-up was shrouded in mist as I skimmed along the sandy pavement with the ocean breeze softly brushing the fog away. Slowly.
This race is the definition of the word casual. No one has uniforms yet, the impromptu throwing together of a rag-tag group of 100men and women with 3% body fat pushed inbetween trees by an old friendship among coaches. This is a test for both of us.
Our team is looking great this year, and I'm finding myself falling behind in workouts, even with times faster than I ran last year, faster than they ran last year. I'm nervous, but mostly with anticipation.
My hand rubs my stomach unconsciously. I hope I make it through this one. I shake my head.
Brush it off. Go through the motions of your warmup. 2 hops. That's right. Shed your warmups. Stride out. 2 more hops. Man, these Hyperspeed flats got their name for a reason.
The gun is a wizened coach, counting from 3 and yelling GO.
I dash out, slower than the other kids. It's a half mile around the tether ball courts, through the playground and around the portables. Of course, at the time all I know is that it takes a few minutes. The other boys are so far ahead, I can't sprint that fast. But they come back. They always come back. We pass the tether ball and I'm already past half of them. Why don't they see how dumb they look when I pass them? Always excited, just to get run down by the thinnest kid. I like this game.
I'm out comfortably. I sit behind another sophomore who has been running well. Mile 1 - 5:05. That was pretty smooth. Another 600m and I'm at the hill. A steady incline for just under a kilometer, then flat shot 100m to the 2mile turn around.
As the hill comes I just keep my momentum going, passing two of my teammates and one Westmont kid. I'm not making a move, I'm just not slowing down my cadence. Just keep trucking.
10:23. This still feels alright. I turn, and take the down hill with a lean. Slowly I'm gaining on more people. If I can just hang on to these guys infront of me, I know I have better speed than they do. I always have better speed than they do.
I run behind 2 opposing teammates, working together. But they start slowing down. Why are they slowing down.
I can't stay here. They're fading and if I stay here I'll get caught by the group behind me. Just keep your tempo up. Keep rolling. Just keep rolling.
I approach the 3mile, alone in what an injured teammate who's watching tells me in 14th place. 14th? That's gotta be wrong. I'm not that fast at this sorta stuff.
I slowly gain on another group of 4. I catch them right after the 3mile, vaguely hearing 15:34.
All of the sudden the pain is there. Deep, deep burning pain and I'm going to throw up. When I throw up my body convulses as if I'm being shot in the chest, and I seize up and have to stop. I can't throw up, I can't throw up. Not now. I'm running well. I'm comfortable at this pace.
I slow for a good 400m, hoping a bit to quell the vomit that is to come. I hang behind 2 of the guys that got dropped from the others. After 400m, we see the 800m-to-go marking.
I move. Hard. My upper body form is shit. It's falling apart. By my cadence is pure, light, and fast. That's all that matters. Focus on that.
A green singlet is coming back to me, and pretty quickly too. 400m to go. We get off the boardwalk and onto choppy grass. I breeze past him. I don't care who he is, he's done.
There's no one infront of me. Where am I? Where's the finish? I'm running through the trees and I can hear voices and see shadows in the fog. Why am I not done? Where is the e-THERE. GO. GO.
Only final 100m push, and I'm done. 20:46. 11th place.
I'm told I was our 7th guy. 7th guy? But....7 guys go to nationals.
Wait, I have to potential to go to Nationals?
But I thought I wasn't good at cross country. What happened to the sophomore slump?
I feel okay. I'm a little flat, but that was the goal of my summer training. Flat in September, sharp in November. I have a habit of not getting much faster during the course of each XC season, and I want to change that.
Something IS odd with me though. The last 3 times my heart rate went north of 180, I threw up. Once on a hard 10-miler, once on a 4.5m tempo workout, and once on 1000m repeats on grass.
Naturally, I was a bit worried when I toed the line for our 4mile dual against Westmont college, along the boardwalk of Santa Barbara's beach. It's 8am, and my warm-up was shrouded in mist as I skimmed along the sandy pavement with the ocean breeze softly brushing the fog away. Slowly.
This race is the definition of the word casual. No one has uniforms yet, the impromptu throwing together of a rag-tag group of 100men and women with 3% body fat pushed inbetween trees by an old friendship among coaches. This is a test for both of us.
Our team is looking great this year, and I'm finding myself falling behind in workouts, even with times faster than I ran last year, faster than they ran last year. I'm nervous, but mostly with anticipation.
My hand rubs my stomach unconsciously. I hope I make it through this one. I shake my head.
Brush it off. Go through the motions of your warmup. 2 hops. That's right. Shed your warmups. Stride out. 2 more hops. Man, these Hyperspeed flats got their name for a reason.
The gun is a wizened coach, counting from 3 and yelling GO.
I dash out, slower than the other kids. It's a half mile around the tether ball courts, through the playground and around the portables. Of course, at the time all I know is that it takes a few minutes. The other boys are so far ahead, I can't sprint that fast. But they come back. They always come back. We pass the tether ball and I'm already past half of them. Why don't they see how dumb they look when I pass them? Always excited, just to get run down by the thinnest kid. I like this game.
I'm out comfortably. I sit behind another sophomore who has been running well. Mile 1 - 5:05. That was pretty smooth. Another 600m and I'm at the hill. A steady incline for just under a kilometer, then flat shot 100m to the 2mile turn around.
As the hill comes I just keep my momentum going, passing two of my teammates and one Westmont kid. I'm not making a move, I'm just not slowing down my cadence. Just keep trucking.
10:23. This still feels alright. I turn, and take the down hill with a lean. Slowly I'm gaining on more people. If I can just hang on to these guys infront of me, I know I have better speed than they do. I always have better speed than they do.
I run behind 2 opposing teammates, working together. But they start slowing down. Why are they slowing down.
I can't stay here. They're fading and if I stay here I'll get caught by the group behind me. Just keep your tempo up. Keep rolling. Just keep rolling.
I approach the 3mile, alone in what an injured teammate who's watching tells me in 14th place. 14th? That's gotta be wrong. I'm not that fast at this sorta stuff.
I slowly gain on another group of 4. I catch them right after the 3mile, vaguely hearing 15:34.
All of the sudden the pain is there. Deep, deep burning pain and I'm going to throw up. When I throw up my body convulses as if I'm being shot in the chest, and I seize up and have to stop. I can't throw up, I can't throw up. Not now. I'm running well. I'm comfortable at this pace.
I slow for a good 400m, hoping a bit to quell the vomit that is to come. I hang behind 2 of the guys that got dropped from the others. After 400m, we see the 800m-to-go marking.
I move. Hard. My upper body form is shit. It's falling apart. By my cadence is pure, light, and fast. That's all that matters. Focus on that.
A green singlet is coming back to me, and pretty quickly too. 400m to go. We get off the boardwalk and onto choppy grass. I breeze past him. I don't care who he is, he's done.
There's no one infront of me. Where am I? Where's the finish? I'm running through the trees and I can hear voices and see shadows in the fog. Why am I not done? Where is the e-THERE. GO. GO.
Only final 100m push, and I'm done. 20:46. 11th place.
I'm told I was our 7th guy. 7th guy? But....7 guys go to nationals.
Wait, I have to potential to go to Nationals?
But I thought I wasn't good at cross country. What happened to the sophomore slump?
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Lesson 5: Nothing.
I'm broken.
I'm not breaking down, I'm not tired, I'm not sore, I'm broken.
I sleep 15 hours a day. Every piece of furniture I sit on I seem to melt into. My muscles don't seem like muscles. They are bits of marshmallow fluff, disintegrating as they are ignored by the chewed up conversation.
I crave things. Pickles, cheese, spaghetti, eggplant, cinnamon sticks; nothing that has ever passed my lips is enough to fulfill me. I'm full - I crave hunger. I eat nothing for almost a day. The next day I eat 12,000 calories. It doesn't make sense.
I'm broken.
I am clutching my knees, looking at my final split for mile 8. 5:27 flashes at me like a blaring sunlit alarm clock. Taunting me. I spit, stand upright, and immediately have to pee. I jog slowly over to a bush, realize I may not make it, and run faster. I barely get it out in time, and lean back in a dizzy stupor. Finishing, I look down, only to see a mixed pool of blood and urine, unsure of which has more.
I drop things. Spill everywhere. My hands aren't my own. These clumsy mittens shake after holding a dinner knife for more than 20 seconds. Who gave these to me? They're not mine.
I laugh off my embarrassment. "I'm just tired" I lie. I'm not tired. I'm broken.
It is said that training is like a vortex. A series of concentric circles, connected by my sheer will. The harder you push, the deeper the circles are pulled, pulled, pulled.......
And then released.
The anti-gravity mechanics work magic that is not supposed to happen. The further you fall, the higher you top out. The more force you're shot upwards with until you can do things physically that not even other athletes can fathom. The concentric circles work like a giant metal-rubber band and hurl you into the only place that you can accept success; in your highest dreams of achievement.
I park my car outside my house. I lean to tie my shoe as put on the emergency brake. My head leans against the steering wheel. I wake up to a beep of the horn as I slip down. I look around. It's dark. Far too dark. How long was I out for? My joints creek and moan, telling me that it was at least 4 hours. I get out of the car, walking to the house, regretting those 4 hours I wouldn't get back. I hope I enjoyed them.
The concentric circle philosophy has been time-tested. Fullproof. Limitless.
That is, if you survive.
Not very many people survive being broken.
I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. I am on the verge of tears, I don't want to keep going. I don't want to keep going. I don't want to keep going. I don't want to keep going.
Not very many people survive being broken.
I'm not breaking down, I'm not tired, I'm not sore, I'm broken.
I sleep 15 hours a day. Every piece of furniture I sit on I seem to melt into. My muscles don't seem like muscles. They are bits of marshmallow fluff, disintegrating as they are ignored by the chewed up conversation.
I crave things. Pickles, cheese, spaghetti, eggplant, cinnamon sticks; nothing that has ever passed my lips is enough to fulfill me. I'm full - I crave hunger. I eat nothing for almost a day. The next day I eat 12,000 calories. It doesn't make sense.
I'm broken.
I am clutching my knees, looking at my final split for mile 8. 5:27 flashes at me like a blaring sunlit alarm clock. Taunting me. I spit, stand upright, and immediately have to pee. I jog slowly over to a bush, realize I may not make it, and run faster. I barely get it out in time, and lean back in a dizzy stupor. Finishing, I look down, only to see a mixed pool of blood and urine, unsure of which has more.
I drop things. Spill everywhere. My hands aren't my own. These clumsy mittens shake after holding a dinner knife for more than 20 seconds. Who gave these to me? They're not mine.
I laugh off my embarrassment. "I'm just tired" I lie. I'm not tired. I'm broken.
It is said that training is like a vortex. A series of concentric circles, connected by my sheer will. The harder you push, the deeper the circles are pulled, pulled, pulled.......
And then released.
The anti-gravity mechanics work magic that is not supposed to happen. The further you fall, the higher you top out. The more force you're shot upwards with until you can do things physically that not even other athletes can fathom. The concentric circles work like a giant metal-rubber band and hurl you into the only place that you can accept success; in your highest dreams of achievement.
I park my car outside my house. I lean to tie my shoe as put on the emergency brake. My head leans against the steering wheel. I wake up to a beep of the horn as I slip down. I look around. It's dark. Far too dark. How long was I out for? My joints creek and moan, telling me that it was at least 4 hours. I get out of the car, walking to the house, regretting those 4 hours I wouldn't get back. I hope I enjoyed them.
The concentric circle philosophy has been time-tested. Fullproof. Limitless.
That is, if you survive.
Not very many people survive being broken.
I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. I am on the verge of tears, I don't want to keep going. I don't want to keep going. I don't want to keep going. I don't want to keep going.
Not very many people survive being broken.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Weight...less?
It has been two months since I started base season, and I've been averaging around 50mpw, due to some outlier weeks from being tweaked. I'll be up around high 70's/80 miles this week, and will continue to push the envelope for my last month home.
On May 17th, I was 6' 1", 175lbs.
Today, On July 21st, I am still 6' 1", but I am 154lbs.
The change in me has been astronomical. At 175lbs, I was able to break open a race with a huge change of pace. At 154lbs, I float across 11+ miles a day like I'm walking on air.
It's May 28th, I'm 174lbs and on my first LSD of summer training. Jesus my hamstrings are on fire. I'm a sprinter not a distance runner, how long is 1500m anyway? This is supposed to be an LSD and my heart rate is well north of 170, and I'm barely moving oh god why does summer base exist
It didn't take me long to lose weight. A LOT of weight. Any remnants of upper body strength left me within a week. After two, all excess power muscle was gone, I was 160lbs, and slowly getting used to the begrudging mileage.
All of the sudden it's mid June - my first week over 65. My body has completely changed. I work during the day, and see only a select few friends at night for lack of time. It's not that I don't want to hang out with all my friends, it's that I don't want to move, so whomevers closest and doing the least amount of movement is my best friend for the evening.
The friends I DO see comment on how I look like I lost weight often. I don't blame their quizzical stares, I barely recognize myself. The body that I spent all Spring shaping has been cast aside in a matter of weeks, and all I occupy is this new shell. Runners, the mammal hermit crab. Longer, leaner, sleeker. People ask me if I've grown. If I got a new haircut, new pants, new shades. They cant seem to place the source of my transformation.
But I know.
I have one mile to go, as I check my watch mile 8 flashes on the screen - 6:23. Too slow for a hard base run. I ratchet up the pace home, the slight downhill sending shock waves 4x my body weight through every muscle I have left on this frame. Each limb screams for me to stop. There is a knot in my shoulder begging me to stop pumping my arms. My legs have been yelling for at least 2 miles. Each individual abdomen muscle is quickly unionizing against my mind. stop Stop STOP.
All that comes into my head is a long forgotten quote from a long forgotten book
The one thing that doesn't abide by majority rule is a person's conscience.
It works. PUSH.
The runs are easier now. After 2 weeks at a new distance, my body always realizes that, again, it's not going to win this fight, so the easiest thing to do would be to give in, and maybe it'll feel easier. Lose the unnecessary baggage, and make the work more efficient.
For that, I am grateful. Because while floating along through miles 11, 12, and 13 every sunday is uncomfortable enough, chugging along at 175lbs is downright unpleasant.
I cringe, holding back the urge to vomit as the thought pops into my head - "understatement of the century."
On May 17th, I was 6' 1", 175lbs.
Today, On July 21st, I am still 6' 1", but I am 154lbs.
The change in me has been astronomical. At 175lbs, I was able to break open a race with a huge change of pace. At 154lbs, I float across 11+ miles a day like I'm walking on air.
It's May 28th, I'm 174lbs and on my first LSD of summer training. Jesus my hamstrings are on fire. I'm a sprinter not a distance runner, how long is 1500m anyway? This is supposed to be an LSD and my heart rate is well north of 170, and I'm barely moving oh god why does summer base exist
It didn't take me long to lose weight. A LOT of weight. Any remnants of upper body strength left me within a week. After two, all excess power muscle was gone, I was 160lbs, and slowly getting used to the begrudging mileage.
All of the sudden it's mid June - my first week over 65. My body has completely changed. I work during the day, and see only a select few friends at night for lack of time. It's not that I don't want to hang out with all my friends, it's that I don't want to move, so whomevers closest and doing the least amount of movement is my best friend for the evening.
The friends I DO see comment on how I look like I lost weight often. I don't blame their quizzical stares, I barely recognize myself. The body that I spent all Spring shaping has been cast aside in a matter of weeks, and all I occupy is this new shell. Runners, the mammal hermit crab. Longer, leaner, sleeker. People ask me if I've grown. If I got a new haircut, new pants, new shades. They cant seem to place the source of my transformation.
But I know.
I have one mile to go, as I check my watch mile 8 flashes on the screen - 6:23. Too slow for a hard base run. I ratchet up the pace home, the slight downhill sending shock waves 4x my body weight through every muscle I have left on this frame. Each limb screams for me to stop. There is a knot in my shoulder begging me to stop pumping my arms. My legs have been yelling for at least 2 miles. Each individual abdomen muscle is quickly unionizing against my mind. stop Stop STOP.
All that comes into my head is a long forgotten quote from a long forgotten book
The one thing that doesn't abide by majority rule is a person's conscience.
It works. PUSH.
The runs are easier now. After 2 weeks at a new distance, my body always realizes that, again, it's not going to win this fight, so the easiest thing to do would be to give in, and maybe it'll feel easier. Lose the unnecessary baggage, and make the work more efficient.
For that, I am grateful. Because while floating along through miles 11, 12, and 13 every sunday is uncomfortable enough, chugging along at 175lbs is downright unpleasant.
I cringe, holding back the urge to vomit as the thought pops into my head - "understatement of the century."
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Turning Weaknesses
Every runner (and person) has their set of weaknesses. The thing about personality weaknesses, however, is that they're very difficult to change.
Running weaknesses are ALSO very difficult to change, but because they are physical, appear more easily dealt with. All you have to do to change yourself is take a mental note not to do / to do X thing. You can even write it down if you don't trust yourself. It's just a matter of habituation.
Running is similar, plus a boatload of pain. That kinda sucks. Kinda.
I used to be HORRIBLE at LSD's. By that, I mean I would have a huge struggle running anything over an hour. Now, it's a breeze. And it only took a full year! Yay....
My next step is Tempo runs. For some reason, I just have a very hard time dealing with these. The bad thing is that to get good at Tempo runs I have to.....well, DO them. A lot. And I severely dislike them. Nothing too appealing to me about trying to hammer 20-30min @ well sub 5:30 pace by myself on hilly roads.
Last week I tried and got to 15min before I vomited everywhere, and then I STILL had another 4miles to go before I was done, which I jogged @ 7ish min pace, feeling sorry for myself. Sounds great, right?
The GOOD thing about Tempo runs is that they are arguably the MOST useful tool in making someone faster, aside from simply a high mileage base. Getting good at Tempo runs essentially means you have gotten good at making the uncomfortable comfortable. It pushes the upper limit of how long you can hold a sub-maximal pace.
I can run ~4:20 mile. How long can I hold 4:30 pace? 5:00 pace? 5:30? Even though those 3 only vary by 30sec/mile, the answers are probably somewhere around 2000m (1.25miles), 4000m (2.5miles), and 9000m (5.6ishmiles).
What tempo runs do is SEVERELY affect those distances. A month or two of Tempo runs may add 1000m to that middle number, which any runner will tell you is a HUGE deal. Turning weaknesses.
I've written about fixing weaknesses before, and this is mine. Blessing in that fixing it will make me a WHOLE lot faster, curse in that there's only one, pain-filled way to go about solving it.
I'll try to remember the blessing side of it as I head out the door in 20min to try my luck again.
Oh, and I will know there is a God when it stops raining.
Running weaknesses are ALSO very difficult to change, but because they are physical, appear more easily dealt with. All you have to do to change yourself is take a mental note not to do / to do X thing. You can even write it down if you don't trust yourself. It's just a matter of habituation.
Running is similar, plus a boatload of pain. That kinda sucks. Kinda.
I used to be HORRIBLE at LSD's. By that, I mean I would have a huge struggle running anything over an hour. Now, it's a breeze. And it only took a full year! Yay....
My next step is Tempo runs. For some reason, I just have a very hard time dealing with these. The bad thing is that to get good at Tempo runs I have to.....well, DO them. A lot. And I severely dislike them. Nothing too appealing to me about trying to hammer 20-30min @ well sub 5:30 pace by myself on hilly roads.
Last week I tried and got to 15min before I vomited everywhere, and then I STILL had another 4miles to go before I was done, which I jogged @ 7ish min pace, feeling sorry for myself. Sounds great, right?
The GOOD thing about Tempo runs is that they are arguably the MOST useful tool in making someone faster, aside from simply a high mileage base. Getting good at Tempo runs essentially means you have gotten good at making the uncomfortable comfortable. It pushes the upper limit of how long you can hold a sub-maximal pace.
I can run ~4:20 mile. How long can I hold 4:30 pace? 5:00 pace? 5:30? Even though those 3 only vary by 30sec/mile, the answers are probably somewhere around 2000m (1.25miles), 4000m (2.5miles), and 9000m (5.6ishmiles).
What tempo runs do is SEVERELY affect those distances. A month or two of Tempo runs may add 1000m to that middle number, which any runner will tell you is a HUGE deal. Turning weaknesses.
I've written about fixing weaknesses before, and this is mine. Blessing in that fixing it will make me a WHOLE lot faster, curse in that there's only one, pain-filled way to go about solving it.
I'll try to remember the blessing side of it as I head out the door in 20min to try my luck again.
Oh, and I will know there is a God when it stops raining.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
The Summer Grind
A couple reasons I haven't updates this blog - 1) I forgot my password, and 2) I wasn't really sure where I was going to go with it once track season ended.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy cross country. But I LOVE track. There are so many variables in cross country. Track is pure. There are no variables. Anything you do or do not do is the fault and success of you and you alone.
Obviously, again, it's similar in cross country. But is it really your fault if you have a bad race because you get slammed into a pole, or a branch takes your legs out, or the mud takes your shoes away?
I'm not sure, but I don't like any of those things.
But it doesn't matter! Because this is summer. At being both a collegiate....person and runner in summer means a few things. A) Run. A lot. B) Get a job. C) Have fun in nice weather.
Now, this make seem familiar to school, with the altering of B slightly, but I assure you it is no-....
Okay, it is.
The difference in summer training is both good and bad. It takes less time to do, as you just go out and run from home most every day, but it also is a lot more volume, which is NOT easier to do.
This is going to be my breakdown of workouts at the peak of summer mileage wise:
Monday: Run to work - 9miles
After work: To field or track for speed work. 4-5 miles
Tuesday: Run to work - Tempo in middle (about 25min of 5:30-40 pace). Strength when I get there.
Wednesday: Run to work, but longer way - 11 miles. Strides when I get there, +1 mile
Thursday: Run to work, HARD. ~6min pace.
Friday: Run to work. After work, do a hill workout on my street. ~4miles.
Saturday: Easy 15miles.
Sunday: Easy 6-8
That's about 80 mpw. And that's at the conservative end of the spectrum. I may double difference days.
To the average runner, this seems reasonable. To the average person, they are saying prayers and clutching jesus-beads. Or whatever they're called.
The summer grind is no joke, it is how you develop the secret of your success during the season.
And as we all know, the secret is..
..that there is no secret.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy cross country. But I LOVE track. There are so many variables in cross country. Track is pure. There are no variables. Anything you do or do not do is the fault and success of you and you alone.
Obviously, again, it's similar in cross country. But is it really your fault if you have a bad race because you get slammed into a pole, or a branch takes your legs out, or the mud takes your shoes away?
I'm not sure, but I don't like any of those things.
But it doesn't matter! Because this is summer. At being both a collegiate....person and runner in summer means a few things. A) Run. A lot. B) Get a job. C) Have fun in nice weather.
Now, this make seem familiar to school, with the altering of B slightly, but I assure you it is no-....
Okay, it is.
The difference in summer training is both good and bad. It takes less time to do, as you just go out and run from home most every day, but it also is a lot more volume, which is NOT easier to do.
This is going to be my breakdown of workouts at the peak of summer mileage wise:
Monday: Run to work - 9miles
After work: To field or track for speed work. 4-5 miles
Tuesday: Run to work - Tempo in middle (about 25min of 5:30-40 pace). Strength when I get there.
Wednesday: Run to work, but longer way - 11 miles. Strides when I get there, +1 mile
Thursday: Run to work, HARD. ~6min pace.
Friday: Run to work. After work, do a hill workout on my street. ~4miles.
Saturday: Easy 15miles.
Sunday: Easy 6-8
That's about 80 mpw. And that's at the conservative end of the spectrum. I may double difference days.
To the average runner, this seems reasonable. To the average person, they are saying prayers and clutching jesus-beads. Or whatever they're called.
The summer grind is no joke, it is how you develop the secret of your success during the season.
And as we all know, the secret is..
..that there is no secret.
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