The past few days I've really been dragging: I'm exhausted, my head hurts, and my muscles ache. Oh, and I have a HUGE appetite. It's PMS time, which means low energy and an appetite the size of Texas. Usually, it's only as big as Manhattan.
Dead woman walking: I managed to make it through my track workout on Tuesday. But just barely. We were supposed to do 3 to 4 X 1000 and 4 X 400. I was already super-tired, but I didn't think anything of it.
Then in the first 1000, I couldn't figure out why my legs felt like lead, and why my heart rate was so high. Was it the 93 degree weather? Or the Caramello bar I inexplicably ate that afternoon?
I was so tired that after that first 1000, I ran 800's instead. I did crank up the volume on the last 800, and did some decent 400 splits. But it was much tougher than usual. (As an aside, a few posts ago I said I was supposed run 400's in 1:34. I was wrong. I'm supposed to run them 9 seconds slower!)
Only after I came home and ate prime rib because of a huge craving for red meat did I suss out the reasons for my body's strange behavior. Here's a Runner's World blog post on just this topic.
I was also so hungry today after work that instead of going home, I walked straight from the Metro station to my favorite beer & chili joint and inhaled a hungry-man serving of spaghetti with chili, cheese and onions. And a few hunks of cornbread, for good measure.
Anyway, here are the stats for my latest track workout. Target pace for 1,000 = 4:38. For 800 = 3:36 and for 400 = 1:44.
1st 800: 3:36
2nd 800: 3:30
1st 400: 1:35
2nd 400: 1:35
3rd 400: 1:43
4th 400: 1:36
I still ran the 400's a bit too fast. Need to work on that. After the second-to-last 400, I blurted out, "F**k!" because I was so tired. I didn't mean to actually say it. It just came out. Two of the faster guys overheard me, grinned, and one said, "Yes! That's how I feel!"
Delusions of grandeur: I mentioned last week that I'd say a word about some of the personalities in my Tuesday night track workouts. Coach put us into 3 groups: fast (marathoners 3:20 and faster), medium (3:21 to 3:40 or so marathoners), and slower (3:45 +).
I'm in the second group, and within that group are several folks - one man who always goes shirtless and 2-3 of his female lackies - who insist on running at the head of the pack.
If you try to run with them, they will try to outkick you. Their breathing becomes more labored and one may even try to block you. Which, of course, is not what you're supposed to do. You're supposed to help each other out.
Then you (okay, I) get mad and run faster. Which turns into an all-out sprint for us. And this in the first interval! While I won the two times this happened, it derailed the rest of our workout. So we all lost.
Now I purposely start the intervals 2-3 seconds after they do, and if they think I just run slower than them, so be it. I'll still finish ahead of them in a real race.
If we were able to laugh off each other's competitiveness, it would be okay. But these three folks don't talk to me nor many of the others at the track. Last week, I tried to, for the last time. I smiled and said, "Hi, how are you?!"
He looked at me, looked down, and said. "Good. Feeling strong!" Then he walked away. What a meathead.
Some of the people in the advanced group, several of whom are my friends, also really dislike this trio becauses of their bad manners and an arrogance so unfounded that it's ridiculous.
Oh, and did I mention that after one of our first track workouts last month, I good-naturedly gave rude and insecure dude a ride to the subway station when no one else would? And now he doesn't have the manners to even say hello? Ah, well. It'll make beating him in the marathon all the sweeter.
I heart freebies!: One of the fasties is a member of the Luna Chix Triathlon team, and she brought a bushelful of Luna bars for everybody. Lemon zest = mmmm!
And the sponsor of our training program, Pacers, gave all of us free Feetures socks. I gotta admit - they're pretty nice. More comfortable than the cheap ones I get at Target. I feel spoiled!