February 27, 2014 by Amy B
I ran four miles last week, which meant I had no choice but to drag my ass out and up to the indoor track for the TPoD “easy 3 mile” workout. Just so you know, it went 9:05, 9:10, 9:10. Which, for those of you keeping track at home, is not “easy.” At least for me. My pace was a result of a number of things:
- Road detour meant it took longer to get to the track than planned, and I was already pressed for time. The faster you run, the sooner you’re done. Or something.
- I honestly did not start out pushing the pace, but looked for a comfortable slot to just hang out for about 30 minutes. And I found it, mostly. While it didn’t feel like a terribly difficult effort, toward the end I was starting to get a little winded. HR was up about 10 BPM higher than normal, so I guess I was working. Or maybe this was just the result of not running for an entire week.
- Fast Super Long Legs Freddie Dude was flying around the track, making me feel even slower and more ploddy than I probably was. I blame him for at least 33% of this.
Maybe I felt tired because I’d given blood the day before. Or maybe I have rocketed myself back to Square One in this whole training thing and now I’m doomed for Green Bay.
Stayed home today after a sleepless night and I’ll be honest – the desire to leave the house in the current wintry state we’re in was not high. Put in 45 minutes of a “tempo ride” on the bike to hopefully make up for missing the tempo run today. (Also started House of Cards on Netflix. Ooh!) HR was up right where I’d expect it for a tempo run, so I’m going to call it good and pray for warmer weather, which we probably won’t get until late next week.
I leave you with this video. For the record, if we’re ever running together, I’m probably not going to talk about my sex life.
Pounding the tarmac through the seasons, a band of runners are brazenly challenged with intimate questions as they pace their routes. Liberated from responsibilities, their guards drop dramatically, releasing funny and brutally frank confessions, and weaving a powerful narrative behind the anonymous masses.
A film by Matan Rochlitz & Ivo Gormley.
The Runners on The Guardian: