It’s kind of incredible that we ran so hard last night we’re still tired this morning, mused 6x6 as we met for Swahili at 8am yesterday.
Yeah, I suppose that is some kind of cool…I agreed as I sipped my large Americano and contemplated Swahili verbs (and my aching feet).
Oh the running crazy - how I love thee!
But before Tuesday night’s workout I wasn’t so sure. After my horrendous long run attempt Sunday morning, running and I were not exactly friends….
I warmed up by running to the track (2 miles). When I arrived Coach George asked how I was feeling. Umm, I’ll let you know 800 meters into the first mile? (All runners know, sometimes you can’t predict how you’re going to feel.)
The turnout was sparse, so to avoid running alone, I ran with a faster group. The workout was: 1600m (aka 1 mile), 800m, 400m times 2.
I got to that 800 meter mark of the first mile, and I wasn’t exactly enjoying myself. I could have backed off…but the whole point of speed workouts is to push myself - that’s the only way I’ll get faster.
So I daydreamed. I imagined myself at the Chestnut Hill Reservoir in Boston, circa Freshman year of college. Miserable. Chasing after girls way faster and fitter and generally better than myself. And hating life but terrified of failing.
I’m not saying that’s the way you should workout. I’m 99.9% sure I overtrained for years in my efforts to catch up. But on Tuesday night it was a good reference point to remind me that workouts aren’t supposed to be pleasant. They’re supposed to be hard. But I can run fast and I can push myself and I don’t need to give up and slow down.
And the workout got better as I went! I did the first set completely, and then shortened the second 1600m (so I did 800m, 800m, 400m for the second set). (Holler for running smart!) I ran home to cool down (2 miles), and collapsed on my couch.
I was tired at the end. But feeling pretty good about myself.