Running Fast, Alone, At Night (not an excerpt from the police blotter)

We had 800s planned for this week’s Track Party Tuesday (which yes, I am very timely just now writing about).  Coach Faster Bunny couldn’t make it because of jet-setting duties, which was fine bc I figured it’d be good for me to try a speed workout on my own.  See if there’s a difference between running fast and chasing someone faster than you.

So I woke up in the stupidest mood.  STUPID.  You know when everything is SO life-threateningly annoying?  Like when the seam of your sock being a milimeter off can send you into a tailspin of murderous rage?  Dropping a bit of toothpaste on your shirt turns you into a sobby, blubbering, mascara river mess?  When I told Brian this story he thanked me for leaving the house early and coming home late.  MONSTER Sarah.

(NO, obviously this has nothing to do with a monthly hormonal imbalance or the fact that I have ovaries. nope. not at all.)

Anyways, I woke up late (norm), to a text from Rebecca with directions to a track closer to us.  Cool, maybe I’ll make it on time.  This is how the rest of the morning plays out :

Drive around lost for 25 minutes, eat entire Clif bar (rather than the normal 1/3rd) out of frustration, FINALLY find entrance and parking, and tell myself to chill out you’ve still got plenty of time.  Walk up to track, and…

‘WTF.  What is this sandy gravel dirt shit?  Ugh why do I feel it all over the backs of my legs when I walk??  HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSE TO RUN ON THIS?!  AND FAST??!  Oh hell no.’

Rebecca had already started her workout, obvs since I was obnoxiously late.  I still had to find a place off the track to run my 2 mile warm up.  I didn’t want to take off my coat(s).  I stood there on the edge of the dirt/cinder/gravel, Garmin on, nuun in one hand and keys in the other, just staring at the track.  Pissed.  Scary pissed.

‘You did the hard part already, asshole – you’re out of bed, dressed, and here. Just run a few laps and you’ll shake out of it.  C’mon quit being a little girl.’

Still staring.  Still coated.  Still pissed.

Rebecca took off for her second set and I finally talked myself into getting moving.  I ditched one of my coats, fired up Garmin and my ipod, and ran a lap.

And then stopped.  Put my coat back on, told Rebecca sorry for being the worst runfriend, and went to work an hour early.  .25 miles, holler.

I stewed in my anger all day.  Angry at myself for letting a few small changes to the plan ruin my run.  I still wanted to knock out those damn 800s.  Not really because physically I wanted to, but because I wanted to mark them off my schedule and not worry about shuffling the rest of the week’s workouts.

Lazy, stubborn, or crazy.  You decide, but keep your answers to yourself.

So life things kept happening, which was annoying, and I didn’t get around to lacing my Kinvaras back up until way late.

But damnit, I was getting this workout in!  I headed out to the beachpath for some Twilight 800s with Garmin as my coach.  Did you know about Garmin’s workout function??  I didn’t.  You should have told me.  It wasn’t quite the same as Coach Margot telling me when and how fast and how far to run, but its little beeps and chirps were nice company anyways.

Here’s how if you want to play :

Confession : I almost turned around when I realized time/pace wasn’t on the display.  WTF!!!????  How am I supposed to know if I’m going fast enough??!  No Margot, no time, no pace… like you’re just supposed to know what “hard” feels like?  Without a number telling you if you’re right or not???!  Come on.

#typeArunnerproblems

*** UPDATE : smart runner friends have informed me a simple tap of the bezel will switch the screen to include time/pace. Phew. Interval on, Wayne.

But so I did my 6 sets and hurried home to check out the splits.  No really, I spent the entire cool down counting the seconds until I could upload the workout.  The excitement!  Mystery!  Surprise!  Hopefully not severe ego-smashing disappointment!!

• 3:43
• 3:20
• 3:18
• 3:13
• 3:18
• 3:17

Honestly, 100% surprised with both the consistency and accuracy (goal was 3:25).  110% overjoyed (minus that 3:43) with my legs’ ability to turn around without the aid of a pacer or a number telling them when to speed up/slow down.

Who knew?

I won’t be giving up Track Party Tuesday for solo twilight speedwork, but it’s comforting knowing I’m not as much of an invalid as I thought.  And also, NO, I won’t be venturing out to any other new venues for TPT.

Kick ass to everyone racing and LR’ing this weekend!  I’ve got 17 on sched for tomorrow.  Bring on the carbs, baby.

Sarah OUaL