I probably mislabeled my run in Strava tonight - I referred to it as "Hard 10". That's not exactly true; it was more like a quality 10.
Like I outlined last night, I did hit the gym after school. First was the core workout, then legs. This all ended around 4:30, and I needed to go home to pick up my running watch and change shirts because the weather was getting colder by the minute. The result was the start of the first part of the run was pushed right up to the limit of being able to get anything significant done before the second part of the run was due to start. For a moment I even considered skipping the first part.
That's when I thought to myself, "What Would Miller Do?" (WWMD)
He'd go of course. What choice did I have? I hit the bricks, and with only 36 minutes, I'd try for 4 miles. I had to get 3, but I hoped for 4 if all went well.
You'd think a guy with as much experience as I have would be able to call this a little closer, and in the old days I would have. The old days are gone. I never know how I'm going to feel, or how hard I'll be able to push, until I'm actually running. Sometimes that's 7-minute pace, sometimes it's 9, I just never know.
Tonight the first mile went by in 7:18, but I could tell by the time the mile ticked over I was running much faster than that. The Garmin's instantaneous pace told me I was at 6:48, and if I could keep that up, I'd be well under the 35-minute mark. That would be just enough to get a full 5 miles in. All I had to do was keep going.
Easier said than done, of course. My lungs were fine, breathing was fine, but it was a constant struggle to stay focused on the gait necessary to keep a comfortable pace. I have two ways of running: one is precise (as Roy described it), with shorter but faster steps, and; the other is a more open, rolling motion. The latter is my faster running style, and I was trying hard to maintain it. Seems like it would be easy, since it was also faster AND easier. Surprisingly, it wasn't. I've spent so much time in the former, it feels more natural, and when my mind drifts, my body shifts back into that mode.
Returning to Parkview I found Scott, John T., and Robin waiting. I begged them to wait until a could open a box of raisins and take a drink of magic elixir (okay, Diet Coke). I drank the DC, loaded the raisins in my mouth, and took off, chewing as I ran. We were a minute late - sorry about that, guys!
Even though I told Scott I wouldn't chase him, my inner argument was already taking place. The borderline schizophrenic with slight sociopathic tendencies already knew if there was any way possible, if Scott took off, we would follow. I would follow. Half of me would. Whatever.
Robin sort of started it rolling. She launched from the start. She didn't speak at all - she was all business - and kept us well under 8-minute pace. Little by little, as we made our way down to the circle, Scott began to lead out. It wasn't much at first, but then again, it never is. I didn't try to match steps just yet. The gap hadn't yet grown too much to cover with a few quick steps.
About halfway around the circle that changed. In typical Scott MO, the gap suddenly opened. I don't know for sure if that was because Robin slowed (she did) or if he sped up (he did), but there was no longer any question about it - the time had come. Either I would let him go, or I would follow. As we exited the circle, I cast a backward wave to John T. and Robin. They yelled, "bye!", and Scott and I were gone.
Was there ever any doubt?
Scott definitely controlled things. I wasn't comfortable, but neither was I truly uncomfortable. Talking was not difficult, though maintaining the gait was, just as it had been earlier. Still, with focus, I handled it. Good thing, too; as usual, the farther we went on the break, the faster Scott went. Things finally got to the point I wanted it to be done, and like magic, it was. My final overall pace was 7:13 per mile, a solid 10-mile effort.
I haven't really paid for it, at least not yet. My left hip is sore, but it's no more sore than it was before the run. If that's the same tomorrow, we'll call it a win. Better, I was able to get everything in tonight I wanted AND still get to Scouts on time. Not a bad night.
Oh, and when we got home, Leisa had made a couple loaves of her delicious pumpkin bread... yum!
Like I outlined last night, I did hit the gym after school. First was the core workout, then legs. This all ended around 4:30, and I needed to go home to pick up my running watch and change shirts because the weather was getting colder by the minute. The result was the start of the first part of the run was pushed right up to the limit of being able to get anything significant done before the second part of the run was due to start. For a moment I even considered skipping the first part.
That's when I thought to myself, "What Would Miller Do?" (WWMD)
He'd go of course. What choice did I have? I hit the bricks, and with only 36 minutes, I'd try for 4 miles. I had to get 3, but I hoped for 4 if all went well.
You'd think a guy with as much experience as I have would be able to call this a little closer, and in the old days I would have. The old days are gone. I never know how I'm going to feel, or how hard I'll be able to push, until I'm actually running. Sometimes that's 7-minute pace, sometimes it's 9, I just never know.
Tonight the first mile went by in 7:18, but I could tell by the time the mile ticked over I was running much faster than that. The Garmin's instantaneous pace told me I was at 6:48, and if I could keep that up, I'd be well under the 35-minute mark. That would be just enough to get a full 5 miles in. All I had to do was keep going.
Easier said than done, of course. My lungs were fine, breathing was fine, but it was a constant struggle to stay focused on the gait necessary to keep a comfortable pace. I have two ways of running: one is precise (as Roy described it), with shorter but faster steps, and; the other is a more open, rolling motion. The latter is my faster running style, and I was trying hard to maintain it. Seems like it would be easy, since it was also faster AND easier. Surprisingly, it wasn't. I've spent so much time in the former, it feels more natural, and when my mind drifts, my body shifts back into that mode.
Returning to Parkview I found Scott, John T., and Robin waiting. I begged them to wait until a could open a box of raisins and take a drink of magic elixir (okay, Diet Coke). I drank the DC, loaded the raisins in my mouth, and took off, chewing as I ran. We were a minute late - sorry about that, guys!
Even though I told Scott I wouldn't chase him, my inner argument was already taking place. The borderline schizophrenic with slight sociopathic tendencies already knew if there was any way possible, if Scott took off, we would follow. I would follow. Half of me would. Whatever.
Robin sort of started it rolling. She launched from the start. She didn't speak at all - she was all business - and kept us well under 8-minute pace. Little by little, as we made our way down to the circle, Scott began to lead out. It wasn't much at first, but then again, it never is. I didn't try to match steps just yet. The gap hadn't yet grown too much to cover with a few quick steps.
About halfway around the circle that changed. In typical Scott MO, the gap suddenly opened. I don't know for sure if that was because Robin slowed (she did) or if he sped up (he did), but there was no longer any question about it - the time had come. Either I would let him go, or I would follow. As we exited the circle, I cast a backward wave to John T. and Robin. They yelled, "bye!", and Scott and I were gone.
Was there ever any doubt?
Scott definitely controlled things. I wasn't comfortable, but neither was I truly uncomfortable. Talking was not difficult, though maintaining the gait was, just as it had been earlier. Still, with focus, I handled it. Good thing, too; as usual, the farther we went on the break, the faster Scott went. Things finally got to the point I wanted it to be done, and like magic, it was. My final overall pace was 7:13 per mile, a solid 10-mile effort.
I haven't really paid for it, at least not yet. My left hip is sore, but it's no more sore than it was before the run. If that's the same tomorrow, we'll call it a win. Better, I was able to get everything in tonight I wanted AND still get to Scouts on time. Not a bad night.
Oh, and when we got home, Leisa had made a couple loaves of her delicious pumpkin bread... yum!
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