This exercise thingy is a weird... thing. Sometimes you can feel older than old, old stuff, stuff so crusty and moldy and out-of-date and, and... well, old! Then, out of the blue, you get a small sliver of your former glory.
I won't lie. The last couple of days have been less than peaceful. Work has seen some bizarre twists and turns, coaching has been a test, the body has been breaking down... let's just say there hasn't been a whole lot of anything to give me solace.
So I arrived at Jimmy's late, which added more stress, and ran backwards on the course until I met up with the group. I wanted to at least get out of the graveyard, not because I'm a scaredy-cat (though I am a scaredy-cat) rather because I would have 3/4's of a mile in. Doubling back to the office would therefore give me about 1.5 miles. This meant I'd have to run hard right out of the gate.
Thing about getting old is you can't run hard out of the gate. Oh, you want to, but your body won't do it. It took me a few blocks to get it going, so I didn't think I'd make my target. I was wrong! I nailed the meeting just as I wanted, so HAH! One thing went according to plan today!
On the way back to the office I got a chance to talk a little with the guys. There were a couple of conversations going on - I was talking to Galloway, and Greg was talking to everyone else. I overheard him say something about running a 5:55 last mile today. I made a mental note to come back to that.
So after a bit, I brought it back up. "You're really planning on running a 5:55 last mile today?", I asked, already planning to give it a shot if he was serious. "No, I'm going to have to start doing stuff like that. Not today. Next week." was more or less his reply.
The weird thing was, the second I heard him say it the first time, I fired up. Could be the stress of work and coaching, could be my "don't be afraid to try" attitude right now, but one way or another, I was going to go for it.
This part was a bit dirty. I mean, after all, everyone else had more-or-less poo-pooed the idea outright. Greg had said no. Something inside me believed if Greg saw me take off he'd be forced to respond. He's a racer. I was the bait. It would happen. The only question I had was "how long would it take to catch me?"
I actually felt light when I turned the corner and started for home on the final mile. Light like I have seldom felt in the last few years. The step was quick and easy, the stride pretty open, and I was in a rhythm. It would be off the mark to call it easy - that would be an overstatement - but I was prepared to carry the pace all the way to the finish. Greg would catch me, but he would work for it if he did.
I heard Greg shout something like, "Oh-ho-HO! So THAT'S how it is!" when they all rounded the corner. I didn't look back. That would be weakness. Straight ahead, maintain the effort and focus. I listened to my breathing, my heart, my footfall, but mostly I listened for him. He was coming, I knew he was coming...
By the time I got to the church I thought he had to be on me. The mile levels off here, and it becomes a much flatter, easier run. I figured this to be the point of passing, as I have no true speed. Sprinters will always get me in this situation. Still, no Greg. I knew he was there somewhere.
I finished the mile, hit the split - 5:25 - and looked back. He wasn't there. I'd been wrong all along. So much for my ploy! He came in a bit later a smidge over 6:00, barely breathing. He was toying with me. The rest of the guys soon followed.
Now we all know this mile is short, so I'm not about to believe that time is right. How short, I can't say, but I feel confident the mile was under 6:00. That in itself is a victory for me, because I never thought I'd see that kind of speed again. Kind of makes me think maybe, just maybe it will all get better...
I won't lie. The last couple of days have been less than peaceful. Work has seen some bizarre twists and turns, coaching has been a test, the body has been breaking down... let's just say there hasn't been a whole lot of anything to give me solace.
So I arrived at Jimmy's late, which added more stress, and ran backwards on the course until I met up with the group. I wanted to at least get out of the graveyard, not because I'm a scaredy-cat (though I am a scaredy-cat) rather because I would have 3/4's of a mile in. Doubling back to the office would therefore give me about 1.5 miles. This meant I'd have to run hard right out of the gate.
Thing about getting old is you can't run hard out of the gate. Oh, you want to, but your body won't do it. It took me a few blocks to get it going, so I didn't think I'd make my target. I was wrong! I nailed the meeting just as I wanted, so HAH! One thing went according to plan today!
On the way back to the office I got a chance to talk a little with the guys. There were a couple of conversations going on - I was talking to Galloway, and Greg was talking to everyone else. I overheard him say something about running a 5:55 last mile today. I made a mental note to come back to that.
So after a bit, I brought it back up. "You're really planning on running a 5:55 last mile today?", I asked, already planning to give it a shot if he was serious. "No, I'm going to have to start doing stuff like that. Not today. Next week." was more or less his reply.
The weird thing was, the second I heard him say it the first time, I fired up. Could be the stress of work and coaching, could be my "don't be afraid to try" attitude right now, but one way or another, I was going to go for it.
This part was a bit dirty. I mean, after all, everyone else had more-or-less poo-pooed the idea outright. Greg had said no. Something inside me believed if Greg saw me take off he'd be forced to respond. He's a racer. I was the bait. It would happen. The only question I had was "how long would it take to catch me?"
I actually felt light when I turned the corner and started for home on the final mile. Light like I have seldom felt in the last few years. The step was quick and easy, the stride pretty open, and I was in a rhythm. It would be off the mark to call it easy - that would be an overstatement - but I was prepared to carry the pace all the way to the finish. Greg would catch me, but he would work for it if he did.
I heard Greg shout something like, "Oh-ho-HO! So THAT'S how it is!" when they all rounded the corner. I didn't look back. That would be weakness. Straight ahead, maintain the effort and focus. I listened to my breathing, my heart, my footfall, but mostly I listened for him. He was coming, I knew he was coming...
By the time I got to the church I thought he had to be on me. The mile levels off here, and it becomes a much flatter, easier run. I figured this to be the point of passing, as I have no true speed. Sprinters will always get me in this situation. Still, no Greg. I knew he was there somewhere.
I finished the mile, hit the split - 5:25 - and looked back. He wasn't there. I'd been wrong all along. So much for my ploy! He came in a bit later a smidge over 6:00, barely breathing. He was toying with me. The rest of the guys soon followed.
Now we all know this mile is short, so I'm not about to believe that time is right. How short, I can't say, but I feel confident the mile was under 6:00. That in itself is a victory for me, because I never thought I'd see that kind of speed again. Kind of makes me think maybe, just maybe it will all get better...
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