I did my first track workout last night. I’m not going to say it was good, because it certainly wasn’t…if I were in any kind of decent shape it would have been a cry-worthy time-to-reevaluate-my-life kind of workout. BUT since my expectations were about as low as my weekly mileage, I guess you could say that they were fulfilled.
I met my team at the track at 7pm. The thermostat registered a balmy 96* with 45% humidity. Oh man, no good can come of this, I thought (and said). We started our warm up, decided that it was one of those bonding through shared adversity days, and tried to ignore the sweat pouring off our faces. (For advice about running in the heat, read this post.)
The workout was...well, horrendous - as expected. You just can’t run fast when it’s that hot. One mile had my core temperature up in the hundreds (well, that’s just a guess – I have no idea for sure). And from there I masochistically continued in classic distance runner fashion.
I did a mile, 1200, and then 4x400s. I was pretty pleased with myself for doing that much, considering I was feeling done after the first 800m of the 1200! I’m starting to realize how difficult this whole making a comeback thing is going to be in the middle of the summer…
As I jogged my cool down with a teammate, it began to sprinkle…then to rain…then to pour. Within one lap we were the only ones on the track. Then the thunder came and we decided that rather than become tall shorts-clad lightening rods in the middle of a rubber track, we should probably go.
So overall, great success? No, not really. But it happened and we all lived. Woot.