I hate them.
Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things, make you late for breakfast. I can’t think what anyone sees in them.
I’m not a fast runner, and I never have been. And track workouts remind me of this. The last few workouts, everyone else in my group has been ahead of me. Give me a tempo run, any day.
(Er, when I say I’m not a fast runner, I mean I can run a 10k at 80% but a 5k at 76%. I get relatively slower with short distances. Naturally I don’t like short fast runs).
When he sends me my schedule, Rusty doesn’t tell me what the workout is any more, so I arrive at the track in blissful ignorance of what is in store. “A two miler,” says Rusty, “at 5:55/mile.” That’s bad, probably doable, but bad. But the worst is — I know there’s more. That’s too short. So I press him. “Six minute jog/rest and then another mile at 5:50.” Ogg. Worse and worse. And that’s still too short. I ask again. “And another two miler.” Now that sounds like the entire thing. Horrible.
We are off. The first lap is 91 seconds. Too slow for 5:55. Next lap says 2:58, which isn’t bad. I can’t even read my watch the next lap — I saw a “9” somewhere but that was all I caught. That means we’re going too slowly (I’m guessing 4;29). I try to go faster. At the next lap Rusty shouts “5:50”. Hunh? I thought we were running too slowly, how’d we end up going too fast? I appologize to Drea, and we slow. I don’t bother with my watch now, I just run. Second mile 5:52. Still too fast.
But now a blesséd 6 minutes of rest.
Gone, all too soon. Now the mile. My group seems to have dwindled. Five of us ran the 2 mile interval, but only Lief and I are running this mile. Lief did the 4 mile race on Sunday and is tired today, normally he sets the pace, but today I do. 87 for the first quarter. Perfect. 2:54 for the next — a little fast, but not worth worrying over. I don’t look on the third quarter, and we finish at 5:46. Last week I was complaining about how everyone else was going too fast — today I’m leading, and I’m going too fast.
The next two miles look grim. At least Lief is still with me. Rusty says we can go at 6 minute pace. “For this relief much thanks!”. I set out. 91 for the first quarter. Oof. Can I even make 6 minute pace? Slowly we struggle through and do the first mile at exactly 6. Lief takes the lead now, for which I’m greatful, and I start to fall appart. I can’t keep up with him. 91 seconds for the next quarter, 3:04 at the half. I berate myself, I have to do better than that, Lief seems far ahead now. My legs are really tired. I try to pick up the pace a bit. Final lap. I’m a little closer to Lief, and it feels easier now that the end is almost in sight. Slowly I get closer to Lief — and then he starts to pick up the pace too. We finish at 6:02.
I don’t want to run a 5k. I don’t want to run at 5:50 pace. 6 minute pace I’ll put up with, but 5:50 is just too fast. Last week I was doing kilometers slower than that, and this week I’m doing a mile?
Well, the best thing about 9am Tuesday morning is that I don’t have run that fast again for another week. Hurrah!