As Max and I were in the midst of a less than satisfactory 8 miler, we realized that no one has contributed to the blog in some time. Thus, we made a pact. A pact sealed in blood, by the means of a bear claw cutting our wrists, and with the alternative purpose of collecting each others' blood to wear around our neck in vials, smearing on our face and drinking it so that we can integrate into each others genomes thereby creating 2 equal and perfect training partners(There's more about collecting feces and leg hair but perhaps Max can elaborate on those details....).
I think it's about my 4th week back to any semblance of training now, and i'm on track for about 45 miles this week(Note to self: start a log). I've been steadily increasing mileage while at the same time trying to do 1 workout a week to keep the legs used to a quicker pace. The workouts have been as follows:
1. 12 minute warm up, 15 minutes at what was supposed to be 5:45 pace, and about 20 minutes cool down.
- At first the pace felt fine, then not so fine, then sort of uncomfortable, then uncomfortable, then uncomfortable but sustainable, then laboring until finish. We ended up with a mini progression of 5:47/48 to start, followed by a final mile in sub 5:30. I was very satisfied with how the workout went and we finished with a few striders.
2. warm up, Fartlek ladder of quick to hard pace for a specified duration, followed by an equal amount easier pace, cool down. 1-2-3-3-2-1.
- This workout went surprisingly well as well. While not by any means easy, the last 2 intervals felt smooth and by slight prodding from Max, i showcased some of my weaponry and blew the doors off the last 10 seconds with my newly acquired Jamaican speed. However, my legs have been sore since and i'm not sure when i'll next be able to perform such a feat of strength...
Yesterday was a day off, and as happens the day after most days off, i felt like crap on the run. Max and I had intentions of going 8 miles and while my spirits were high, my legs and lungs didn't quite seem to want to cooperate. What was sore became more sore, what was heavy felt more heavy, what little breath i was able to suck down I only seemed to exhale more, and to top it all off....we got passed. We got straight up passed by a Basketball Jones. I heard the muted techno blaring from the side, but it didn't quite register until a flash of lightening wearing a tight white underarmor shirt and baggy shorts struck by our meager pace as if thrown from the hand of Zeus himself. Defeated and demoralized, it took every ounce of our strength to not throw in the towel and walk in the last 4 miles. We finished the run, Max paying homage to the Tribe by finishing with a customary Tribe Mile , and I with a customary Duke Dog Mile/Ride Upon Black Beauty.
(Play This as you read the next paragraph slowly....)
Building up mileage is not pleasant, and there are very few days when i feel fresh. But i'm confident that balance will be brought to the force, that i will reach equilibrium, and that running will start to feel effortless once again. A day may come, when the courage of men fail, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship....but it is not this day. I will remain vigilant in my cause. I will persevere. I will endure this discomfort, this monotony, and yet i will only initially find even more discomfort and monotony in double the mileage...but there may also be GLORY. And i intend to find it...
-Kyle
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