The Need for Speed

When I think back to about 6 years ago, when speed work was the bain of my existence, I laugh. When my husband and I moved to Arizona, I had just become "serious" about running. I had just run my 3rd marathon and was ready to take my running to the next level. Try to improve.

I was scheduled to run 3 marathons during our first year here. My goal? To break 4 hours. The first marathon of 2005 I paced my sister to her goal time of 5 hours. My second one, 2 weeks later, was my first attempt at sub-4. I finished in 4:07 but felt like it was a good effort given the hot and humid conditions on the Big Island of Hawaii.

I came home from Hawaii that year and began to focus on my 3rd and final race of the season, the Chicago Marathon. My husband helped me fine tune my training plan and agreed to pace me through some tempo runs. That summer I would get up at 3 am to get my long runs done before the sun came up. I hadn't adapted to my new climate and I was miserable. Several times I called my sister mid-run for encouragement. Other times I begged my husband to come get me. He would show up on our mountain bike and ride next to me as I finished.

And then there were the dreaded tempo runs. He was like a drill sargent. After a warm up he would meet me to pound out 2-3 miles at a faster pace. Whatever my pace was (I'll have to go back and review my logs) I'm sure it was slow by my current standards. But I hated speed work. I would cry. I would fake asthma attacks. Anything to not have to run hard. It hurt. And I didn't understand then that pain is good. At Chicago I finished in 3:50. I saw my hard work pay off. I began to understand.

Thankfully I've grown a lot since then. Ironman has expanded my views of pain and what my body is capable of. And I've found some internal motivation to go fast. A competitive drive. On my own, I pushed myself through a 24 week training block in preparation for a marathon at which I wanted to qualify for Boston. I did speed work, both tempo and track, on my own every week. I set my goals and I achieved them. At that time, 2 years ago, I was running 3:30s consistently for my 800's on the track, and around 7:15 pace for my tempo runs. I thought I was working hard, and I'm sure I was working harder than I ever had before, but now, once again, my definition of hard work has changed.

I picked up speed work again this fall in preparation for a couple of marathons and then got serious 3 months ago when my husband organized a group of friends to meet for track workouts. On my own I was running 3:20s consistently for my 800's. Add in people to pace off of and chase down? Bam 3:05. Like it was nothing. Don't get me wrong it hurts like hell. But the joy of being able to lay down 3:05s consistently overrides the little bit of pain that my body endures. And my 1600s have dropped from 6:56-7:00 to 6:30s. Teensy bit more effort, lot more reward.

The last couple of weeks at the track, I've worked harder than I've ever worked. I have been trying to break the 3:00 barrier that has eluded me in the 800. Every week I am 3:01, 3:00 but never below. Today, I set my mind to it. I did my warm up very calmly, comfortably, knowing that today was the day. My first repeat: 2:50. For the 5 minutes following, I thought I was dying. Stabbing pains in my sternum, fire in my lungs, metallic taste of blood in my throat. But I leaped for joy when I looked at my watch. 2:50. 2 minutes, 50 seconds. I followed up that 800 with a second and then 2 x 1600 all at a good effort. The burning in my lungs subsided. My high did not.

As the beginning of my triathlon season approaches (next week!!), I am confident in my abilities and know that I will reach the goals I have set for myself. I know this because I have laid the foundation of hard work and will be able to look back mid-race and know that I've felt worse. That I've hurt more. That I've gone farther and faster. I know what it is to push through fatigue and run on tired legs. I've gained strength. I've gained perspective. I've gained focus.

With that said, I'm going to go public with my first goal of the season. (Yikes!) At Oceanside, not only will I break 5:30 easily, I will run a 1:45 split for the half marathon. There. It's out.

I am strong. I am prepared. I am ready.