There is nothing I love/ hate more than a good track workout. For some reason, it's always the last element of training that I add back into my program, and the first thing to go when I head into taper or off season. And the irony of it all is that nothing makes me feel as alive as a good track workout. Not tempo. Not a long run. It's all about the track.
After an extended off season this winter, I was having a hard time getting back into training. Specifically anything particularly difficult or challenging. I tried a few tempo runs, which were *OK* but nothing spectacular. One day, I told myself I was going to go to the track, but when I woke up the morning of my scheduled re-introduction to the track, I just couldn't go. I felt sluggish and slow. I hit the canal instead and did a fartlek workout. Kind of a cheaters speed workout.
Finally, I made the commitment 5 weeks ago. I'm just going to go and see what happens, I told myself. And so I did. And it went really well. I wasn't so slow after all. So the next week I convinced a friend of mine to join me at the track. (Good luck with that, BTW. Convincing someone else to get out of bed at 4:30 am to run intervals. Most people smile, nod, and say "no thanks!") He showed up and suffered through some tough intervals, and surprisingly the next week... he showed up again. So we've gotten into the routine of meeting after our warm up to knock out a few intervals. He usually acts as my pacer unless I'm particularly rested.
Last night I got the weekly text message, Track tomorrow? To which I responded less than enthusiastically, Yes.
I've been doing maybe a bit too much lately. A 20 mile long run followed by a 5k 9 days ago, followed by a hard track workout. A sprint triathlon 2 days ago, followed by a mid-distance bike ride. My legs just weren't feeling the speed. But my training partner was holding me accountable.
I woke up this morning, and for a brief moment I thought about checking my phone to see if maybe *maybe* he was going to cancel on me. I decided not to look, which was a darn good thing cause he totally bailed on me this morning. Had I checked my phone, I know I would have gone back to sleep, or just gone for a normal run- minus the speed work.
Instead I got ready, and headed out the door for my 3 mile warm up. As I entered the parking lot outside the track, I noticed there were no cars waiting. I was going to be running this one solo. I decided to use this opportunity to run some longer intervals. I had planned a 2 x 1600, 2 x 800. I made the decision to run 3 x 1600 instead since no one else would have to suffer through this besides me. My 1600s have been a little lacking the last few weeks so I wanted to push myself and see what I could do.
I finished the first interval a little slow, 7:06. But my first interval is always slow. I told myself that if that's the best I could do today, I'd take it. Next interval I hit 6:52 and I felt fantastic. I wanted more of the endorphins that were streaming through my blood vessels. Next interval, 6:45. Give me more! In my recovery after the 3rd 1600 I did a little math in my head quick. I could either run 5 extra easy laps on the track before I started my cool down home, or I could run a 4th interval and then only run 1 lap before I headed for home.
It was a no brainer. I hit my 4th and final interval in 6:52, cruised an easy lap and then hit the pavement for home feeling high as a kite. I find it ironic how much I fear that first painful interval every single week, but then how amazing I feel afterwards. Why is it not the amazing feeling that I remember? One day I'll figure that out. In the meantime, I'm going to just sit back and enjoy my endorphins.
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