After missing last week’s speed session for non-negotiable work obligations (newsflash : running and blogging don’t pay my bills. in fact, kind of the opposite) I was ITCHING to get back to the track this week.
I thought maybe my rekindling with the lanes would be put on hold though when Coach Margot suggested a group viewing of The Bachelor the night before. Clarification : I don’t watch The Bachelor. I don’t watch much tv, period, actually, let alone overdramatized shows based on (fake) love and (fake?) emotions.
But I went, because where I come from when you go to a girlfriend’s to “watch tv” you sit on the floor, eat junk, and drink and gossip/laugh/whine/etc. And those things I DO like.
I took my happy ass, bottle of wine, and snacks to the land of the Faster Bunny. Oh and the Stick. He came, too. For moral support.
TV timeout. Guys. Seriously? This show? I really hope the whole season/series isn’t THAT bad, all the time. Or else y’all have big problems.
Sometime that night Margot started talking some nonsense about 3200s and “long intervals” and I told her very kindly that I sure as shit wasn’t running those in the AM. As I shoveled cadbury mini eggs by the handful and emptied the bottle into my glass.
So it was gross long intervals for Margot and 800s for me. Short enough to offer sugar-shock dry heaving if necessary, with opportunity to add/subtract sets as my abused body needed.
Obviously I had high expectations.
Goal was 3:30 (7:00/mi pace) and I took off pretty conservatively, since getting out of bed and functioning in general was (surprise surprise) not that easy.
But after the first 100m or so, I realized my legs came to play. My kinvaras felt extra-springy, the weather was just right, and the jelly beans and wine must have muddled in my stomach overnight to create some magic track potion.
Game on, 800s.
8×800 – 320, 320, 318, 316, 316, 316, 309, 302
Seriously, every single step of this run was magic. I don’t know if it was the “hate running” dramz after the 21 miler, or just the fact that I was expecting the worst after the giant fuel fail, but I didn’t spend a single second thinking this was anything short of the most fun I’ve ever had.
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 THE TRACK x100
I spent the rest of the day in a major run high / track boner / endorphin bubble. God my coworkers were annoyed with me. Oh and Margot, too. Ask her if she loved randomly hearing “HEY REMEMBER I RAN A 3:02 800 THIS AM?? THAT WAS COOL, HUH!?” all day via text/email/gchat/twitter/etcetcetc
Actually no, don’t ask her. I don’t want confirmation.
Just tell her she’s awesome and you want to come to the Track Party next week.
And because the fun part of all of this is seeing your progress and feeding your ego (and in turn contemplating banditting the USATF Olympic Trials in June), let’s have a look at the other two 800 workouts.
Probably this giddy love affair w the track means I’m not running hard enough, but let’s just not bring that up. K? Let me have my time.