New Year, New Plan, New Perspective

New Year's Track Session!  The entry began.  "20 x 400 holding 1:40," my coach continued. "Done as 5 sets of 4 as 3 on 2:15 + 1 on 3:15.  Take at least one gel half way through.  Warm up 20 minutes and cool down 10 minutes."

I did the math in my head.  5 miles of repeats holding 6:40 per mile pace ....which happens to be faster than my 5k PR pace.

I tried to think back to the meeting I just had with my new coach.  Didn't I tell her that I hadn't done track in months?  I was a little hung over from my birthday celebration but I'm sure we discussed it.  And I know I told her I usually stuck with about 3 miles worth of intervals amidst a longer warm up and cool down.

Crap.  Panic began setting in.  I was totally going to embarrass myself.  What have I done?  I still had two weeks to think about this track workout before it actually happened.  Plenty of time to lose sleep over my impending doom.

In truth I was really excited about my new training plan... but this one workout... this first workout gave me angst.  I convinced myself that it was no big deal.  Coach likes holiday and birthday workouts to be especially epic.  That's all it is.  A holiday track session.

Much to my husband's dismay, as the clock rolled to 8 pm on New Years Eve I began the getting-ready-for-bed ritual.  I cited my next day's track workout as reason enough to forgo any celebration.

Right on schedule (I had invited friends to partake in the track workout) we departed our house in warm up to the track.  Two brave souls were waiting for us when we arrived a mile and half later.  I finished my warm up with a couple of loops around the big oval and we got down to business.

DB would be our official timer, keeping us on the 2:15 send off.  I would track the actual 400 meter splits.  And KL would accompany me around and around and around until the final loop was in the books.   MT was joining us for half the repeats on her own interval goal.

The first 4 flew by relatively easily though I was thankful for the extra minute of rest that accompanied the 4th interval of each set.  The next 4 were smooth but by the time we reached the 10th and 11th interval the shit was getting real.  Following the 12th interval I was to take the gel as instructed.  "I can't do it! I'll throw it back up!" I protested.  My friends were the voice of reason.  "Do what your coach says and let her make the adjustment next time."   I swallowed the Honey Stinger gel and a few gulps of water.

The next 4 intervals were about a second slower as my throat threatened to open up and spew stomach contents by the final 100 meters of each one.  Ironically though my final 4 x 400 were the fastest set of them all!  Hmmm, coincidence?  Or did my gel kick in?  Is coach trying to teach me to go fast on a full stomach?  Is it possible that this wasn't some test to see if I would fall apart after 3 miles, but rather intended to show me what I am capable of??

Maybe Coach actually knows her shit and I am in for the ride of my life?!?!

Overall we threw out our two outliers: a 1:31 split for the first 400 and a 1:39 for the 13th-ish interval... and the remainder of our intervals fell nicely, consistently between 1:35-1:38.  I was pumped!  I couldn't wait for my next workout!  I am going to be stronger, faster, better!  I was so ready to say goodbye to 2013 after a mediocre year and this was the best new years day ever!!

We cooled down as we ran back home and changed into our bike kits for an hour easy ride meant to loosen up the legs.  It was a beautiful day and we enjoyed the quiet morning as the rest of the world began to wake up.  I logged my workout and beamed with pride and joy when Coach responded with praise for a job well done.

Motto for 2014?  I CAN!    There's no room for doubt. No room for fear.  I turned over the keys to my training so that I don't have to think.  I just have to DO.  I can and I will.  And 2014 will be my best year ever!

Endorphin High

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. 

Being Chased

Track workouts are the epitome of yin and yang in a runner's world.  I love them and I hate them.  They yield so much benefit and hurt tremendously more than any other workout of the week.  I haven't done a track workout since early June.  With a couple of weeks off for taper, two back to back races, and then a nice off season for recovery, it's been a long time off the track. 

With marathon season imminently upon me, I started back to the track 3 weeks ago.  As expected I am slower than I was last spring.  But I'm still farther ahead of where I began several years ago.  It used to be my goal to hold 3:40 for my 800 repeats.  Last spring I was holding 3:05.  The last few weeks, I've been hanging out at 3:15.  Until... the chase.

So after my 3 mile warm up, I knock out my first 800 meter repeat in 3:18.  As I'm finishing up, the junior ROTC comes out to the field for a little calisthenics.  They do a few pull ups.  They run a few laps.  They do some push ups.  Run a few more laps.  When they run, all 12 or 15 of them are in a block formation taking up the first 4 lanes of the track.  So as I sped by them I hit lane 6 and then cut back in on the curves. 

Fast forward to my second repeat.  The group of teens has just gone by as I'm in my starting block.  I hit my watch and take off.  I cruise by them in lane 6 and within a few steps I hear this ragged breathing behind me.  There's ruckus in the group (they are teens, when is there not?).  I think that one of the boys has jumped in behind me trying to keep up and show off for his friends.  Being the competitive person that I am, there's no way I'm letting him around me. 

300 meters in my shadow backs off a hair.  I am sucking wind like no other trying to stay ahead of him.  I can't shake him.  I continue to hear the footsteps just behind me accompanied by the runner's gasp for air.  I continue to fly, picking up my feet as fast as I can.

600 meters in, my shadow passes me.  It is my husband.  I nearly scream out loud.  I was killing myself trying to stay ahead of someone who naturally runs 800s about 45 seconds faster than me.  I back off the pace just a hair and my limbs go all numb and tingly with the blood suddenly not rushing so quickly.  I hit the 800 meter mark and stop my watch.  3:04.  I scream out loud.  I curse.  My lungs hurt.  My airways burn.  My limbs are like jello.  Your breathing was all ragged!  I didn't think it was you!  I yell at my husband.  He laughs.  Blames it on that being his first interval of the day.  Teases me and continues to run laps around me. 

I start my recovery interval and I spend my 400 meters thinking how awesome I am and how great it feels (great as in painfully amazing) to still be able to lay down a 3:04.  Oh yeah!  Two fingers in the air and then smack on my hip to put out the flames Tsssss cause I am on FIRE!  And if the group of teens hadn't been there and it was just me and my running partners, I probably would have attempted to throw down a cartwheel on the infield.  Probably good that I didn't cause that would increase my likelihood for injury. 

My next 800 is my slowest (go figure) as my limbs still don't know quite how to function.  But I finish up the workout, 5 x 800 all within a 3 second range not including the chase.  So it was a successful day and I know I've still got it in me.  I just need someone chasing me to pull it out!