On the schedule: Wednesday night track workout, with the D.C. Road Runners: 10x400, with 100 recovery, which, with a 1 mile warmup and 1 mile cooldown, would give me a nice 5 miles.
I haven't been on the track in <cough> weeks, so I was a little worried. Ten repeats? Really? Maybe I could shoot for five and see if I'm coughing up a lung.
I met up with my New Triathlon Program mentee, who is two years my senior (yes, you read that right), and runs 7 minute miles. Yes, I'm mentoring her. Don't ask.
She agreed to pace me to hit my target 400 time, 2:16-2:22, based on the handy McMillan running calculator.
Off we go! Whee! I am FEELING GOOD!
First 400: 2:22
Perfect.
2nd 400: 2:03
Damn! But, OK, that was a total fluke. No way did I just run an 8 minute mile.
3rd 400: 1:58
What??! I'm not even out of breath! I must be in way better shape than I thought.
4th 400: 2:01
OK, I am in AWESOME SHAPE. I can do 10 of these standing on my head. I'm barely sweating! I am en fuego.
5th 400: 1:55 I am seriously not even trying. Have I finally conquered running?? I RULE!
And that's when my mentee and I split up, so she could, as she colloquially put it, "Challenge myself a little bit."
No problem.
I'm amazed I managed to carry on a conversation. How is that possible?? In fact, I vaguely recall um, being unbelievably annoyed by peeps chatting on the track. "If you're chatting, you ain't working!"
So, you know where this is going, right?
6th 400: 1:55 God, I'm so consistent!
7th 400: 1:5...wait a minute....how come I'm starting and ending at the exact same place even though I have 100 recovery in between? How is that possible??? [Wheels start slowly turning as brain processes question. And...cue lightbulb.]
ARE YOU ON CRACK? HELLO????
YOU ARE DOING 300s!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
YOU DID NOT SUDDENLY START RUNNING 8 MINUTE MILES!!!!
Nevermind 10x400, you need 10xdopeslap!
8th 400: 2:22 Ah, yes, this suddenly feels harder. And familiar.
9th 400: 2:34 Oh HOW THE MIGHTY FALL.
10th 400: 2:23 Le sigh.
In my defense, if I hadn't broken my NO TALKING rule, I would have been paying attention, and I would have realized that if you run 400, with 100 recovery, it's not really possible, mathematically, physically, or on any other plane of existence, to start and end at the same place.
Oh yes, you want ME as your MENTOR.
Sign up here.
Showing posts with label end of track. Show all posts
Showing posts with label end of track. Show all posts
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Even Stupid People Know to Come In Out of the Rain
Another chapter in the long-playing saga of Not Born to Run.
A 12-mile run was scheduled on Saturday...unless there was a New Triathlete Program bike ride, which I had volunteered to help out on, but which was going to be canceled if the weather turned yucky...
So I figured the bike ride was canceled on Saturday morning, since it was raining and 30F AND windy. A trifecta of crap! A crapecta! Bike ride off, 12 mile run on! I pulled on my running duds, got in the elevator, went down to the front door, opened it, stepped outside...and no. No way. Back in the elevator, back upstairs, right to my door. Stop. "C'mon! You can DO this! You've done it a million times before!" Back to the elevator, back downstairs, out the front door, this time down the steps, where I stood there...and No. Way. Not Happening.
Back upstairs and into a toasty warm bed.
Too bad the bike ride was actually ON. I had now effectively skipped two workouts. This? Made me cranky.
It's possible that I was tired. (Have I mentioned before that I'm TIRED?? Thanks for all your fine, fine advice!) It didn't help that my neighbors have all decided to go beserk at the same time. Friday night, my downstairs neighbors decided to stand on the balcony--JUST BELOW the window that my bed is against—and SMOKE, and talk and yell at the top of their lungs. We called the cops not once, but three times. It's possible that someone in my apartment leaned over my balcony and yelled at them. Just to make sure they knew exactly who called the cops.
Sigh.
Sunday dawned bright and clear and chilly, after another night of different neighbors going beserk on their balcony, so I had to sweet-talk myself into getting at least 10 miles done. I brought Phedippidations along with me—I've been running iPod-less for the past year at least, so this was a big treat—and I got 'er done. Number One Daugher and I had a lovely Easter, and I ate about 10 lbs of chocolate.
My fifth swim lesson was this morning. My instructor had me swimming on my back with fins, working on my kick, and? I was drowning. I mentioned this to her, and she said, "I'm not really concerned with that right now, I'm concentrating on your kick." She cracks me up. She's been timing my 50s, which is freaking nerve-wracking, and in one week I went from 1:04s to :53s. Of course I'm tossing up a lung at the end.
Tuesday night is my last track workout in the Speed Dev Program! My how time ... sort of flies. Not really. I both look forward to and loathe the end of track. But tomorrow night we have the choice of doing a track workout, or doing the Firebird mile race. Which sounds pretty horrifying. I need some solid advice from the masses. Crowdsource me. Take my handy dandy poll:
A 12-mile run was scheduled on Saturday...unless there was a New Triathlete Program bike ride, which I had volunteered to help out on, but which was going to be canceled if the weather turned yucky...
So I figured the bike ride was canceled on Saturday morning, since it was raining and 30F AND windy. A trifecta of crap! A crapecta! Bike ride off, 12 mile run on! I pulled on my running duds, got in the elevator, went down to the front door, opened it, stepped outside...and no. No way. Back in the elevator, back upstairs, right to my door. Stop. "C'mon! You can DO this! You've done it a million times before!" Back to the elevator, back downstairs, out the front door, this time down the steps, where I stood there...and No. Way. Not Happening.
Back upstairs and into a toasty warm bed.
Too bad the bike ride was actually ON. I had now effectively skipped two workouts. This? Made me cranky.
It's possible that I was tired. (Have I mentioned before that I'm TIRED?? Thanks for all your fine, fine advice!) It didn't help that my neighbors have all decided to go beserk at the same time. Friday night, my downstairs neighbors decided to stand on the balcony--JUST BELOW the window that my bed is against—and SMOKE, and talk and yell at the top of their lungs. We called the cops not once, but three times. It's possible that someone in my apartment leaned over my balcony and yelled at them. Just to make sure they knew exactly who called the cops.
Sigh.
Sunday dawned bright and clear and chilly, after another night of different neighbors going beserk on their balcony, so I had to sweet-talk myself into getting at least 10 miles done. I brought Phedippidations along with me—I've been running iPod-less for the past year at least, so this was a big treat—and I got 'er done. Number One Daugher and I had a lovely Easter, and I ate about 10 lbs of chocolate.
My fifth swim lesson was this morning. My instructor had me swimming on my back with fins, working on my kick, and? I was drowning. I mentioned this to her, and she said, "I'm not really concerned with that right now, I'm concentrating on your kick." She cracks me up. She's been timing my 50s, which is freaking nerve-wracking, and in one week I went from 1:04s to :53s. Of course I'm tossing up a lung at the end.
Tuesday night is my last track workout in the Speed Dev Program! My how time ... sort of flies. Not really. I both look forward to and loathe the end of track. But tomorrow night we have the choice of doing a track workout, or doing the Firebird mile race. Which sounds pretty horrifying. I need some solid advice from the masses. Crowdsource me. Take my handy dandy poll:
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