Yesterday, I did mile repeats. As a staple of any running program, it’s not like I’ve never done them before. But, oh man, did I not want to do them yesterday.
In part, I was in a bad mood because of the whole Southwest screwing me thing and I don’t like doing hard workouts in strange places. It feels too much like diving into something you can’t see the bottom of. In part, I went a little nuts at the 24 Hour Fitness in Mesa over the weekend and overcooked my quads doing backsquats. In part, I had a lot of work to do and just wanted to curl up on the couch and finish my book before my Nook ran out of battery. But, mostly, it just sounded really hard.
It’s difficult to explain how much I didn’t train hard last year. I have tried, but people don’t believe me or they think it still sounds like a lot. And they’re sort of right. I ran plenty, but the big difference was I didn’t run much of it very quickly. I think I went to the track one time in 2012. And, I did mile efforts on the road maybe three times? But, never more than three mile repeats. That’s a 5K, I figured, that’s enough.
Training for the last 8 weeks has already been way harder than any preparation last year and Mario keeps promising that we’ll really get into serious marathon training soon. Uh..
So, I wasn’t excited yesterday about five mile repeats up and down a long stretch of bike path/sidewalk next to the canal. Does that sound appealing to anyone in the whole world? No. But, I did them anyway.
I was supposed to hit 6:35s, but I’m weirdly obsessive about not going over whatever my goal interval time is. For some reason, interval times feel like a maximum upper limit cap and if I get too close to that number I’ll be in the red zone and that’s bad and makes me a terrible person, obviously.
I’m crazy, but it means I really felt the need to run them in 6:30, which was fine for the first two. After the first two, though, I had to beg a Mediterranean deli to let me use their bathroom, which I may or may not have accidentally broken/tried to fix after it broke. And, from there, it just got ugly.
I ran two more in the low 6:30s, but felt like I was tearing my stomach in half. It was one mile from one end of the path to the other, with a little bridge/car crossing almost exactly half way. That meant, the entire time, I could see how far it was and how long it was taking to get to what didn’t look like it should take that long. I suppose that’s good practice for the stupid Kaiser Half Marathon, where it’s three miles out and then three miles back on the Great Highway. But, the last mile repeat, I just didn’t think I was going to make it. I thought about just running a half. I thought ‘it’s ok if you run this one in 6:35.’ I thought I wonder if I’ll throw up before I finish or after. Mostly, I just thought: come on, come on, two more minutes, a minute and a half, come on, 45 seconds, come on, hard as you can for 45 seconds, come on.
I made in 6:36, which naturally I consider a massive failure. But, close enough.
And, then, I had to football shuffle all the way home after a long break for some dry heaving, because anything faster made me feel sick.