Posts tagged track and field

one thing i’ve learned this year is that the universe don’t care much for my plans.  the universe don’t care about my workouts. the universe don’t carea bout my grades. the universe don’t care about my health. the universe don’t care if i win CIS. 

the only thing i can do is control the controllable - don’t be too crazy on new years eve, shovel the St. James track, put on an extra pair of tights for the wind and the rain, and run on.  

…always run on.

at the beginning you feel smooth. the man in front of you can’t be going fast enough.  you nip at their heels. you don’t check your shoulder.  you lean into the corners. time is kind and gives you your recovery.  

but then it comes.  slowly at first.  ripples more than waves.  discomfort you can control. but time becomes a little more coy.  offering and withholding the recovery  you were promised.

still, you start. out fast. three quick steps off the line. hold it.  there is nothing but the logo in between the shoulders of the man in front of you. the logo and the burning in your stomach.

then a large wave. huge break. big crash. everything becomes fuzzy.  you forget everything you knew about pace or control. everything you knew about form.  you throw your body around the corners to the line.

started to get back into the swing of things and so I have a little more to write about now. Yesterday was my first session of a new core program. that shit is hard. generally i am excited though because since its probably the weakest area of my game right now its the area where i can improve the most.  none the less that kind of talk doesn’t help my body right now.  goal for the day: stay hydrated, stayed fueled and go outside as little as possible. 

embrace your trembling hands and your short breaths. 

there are birds fighting in your brain. let them chatter on. let them fly their circles. let them dive. 

listen to the voice that you have tried so hard to ignore.  convulse. vomit. scream. become your shadow. 

breathe, smile, step to the gun, and burn.

suddenly it was dark.
dark and electric, not dark and oppressive.
important difference.  

it was more like the atmosphere was leaner. not so heavy, but agressive.
the wind cracking the old trees while the young ones bent in resistance.

we continued. disregarding what the thunder said.
“yeehaw!”
the breeze was cool and refreshing -
dry water on the back of my neck,
the faraway smell of rain.

“damn, that was some pathetic fallacy out there.”
“fucking Shakespearean.”

Rigor mortis - Noun: Stiffening of the joints and muscles of a body after death.

I remember a good friend and fantastic runner tell me a while ago, must be 6 years now, that i should stop complaining about being sore: “get used to it. it’s the next 10 years of your life.”

coach calls it the grind. i call it the salt mines. running geeks and OFSAA junkies might call it the trial of miles or the miles of trails. whatever it is, in my experience it has been a sensation unique to september and october. it is an exhaustion. a familiar ache. catabolism. lethargy. hunger.

if nothing else, a hunger that allows for us push beyond. a hunger that allows us to fight like stray weary dogs when we have to. 

fall weather is here in guelph and that means cross country season has officially begun! races start in a couple of weeks and training camp is over.  the grace period (if there ever was one…) for mediocrity has ended. 

Coach surprised me with a big brass balls workout last thursday. our fifth workout in four days. it was tough but i was tougher.  we all were. rising to meet the challenge the team really bonded out there on the hills of Clee. 

“it was all a dream…”

fall weather is here in guelph. no sweating through t-shirts today. no dunking heads in rivers. it’s time to return to the salt mines.

“she only loves me for my big strong arms”

we’ve got miles to go before we sleep. miles to go…

so far i have stayed away from writing about running proper.  i have spent the time on the periphery of training. beyond the miles. behind the workouts. intended as a way for you to get to know me a little. why i run. how i run. what drives me.  

don’t be fooled though. my training is not all poetry and mental exercises.  it is hard work. it is hills. it is tempo. it is miles. it is exhaustion. it is pain. it is sweat and sunscreen stinging my eyes. it is repeat after repeat. it is early mornings. it is time on my feet. it is sore quads. ect. ect. ect.  

but today i’ll write about my workout yesterday.  4 minuters. one minute rest. 

it was a small but dedicated group heading out to the trails while the sun beat to the tune of 30ish degrees.  it was friday and the end of a long week of coaching track camps. the end of a week of standing all day.

typically 4 minuters are one of my least favourite intervals.  not quite long enough to feel a comfortable rhythm and not quite short enough for my speed-somewhere just beyond the edge-but regardless i decided, as we started our watches, that i was ready to hurt. ready to head to the salt mines and work. 
“fade from the front today buddy” i told Nixon.  
“that plan is about as smart as a fourth grader could come up with.” an ongoing joke in our group.  

but once i realized what i had said i started to change my phraseology.  fade from the front sets me up for failure.  fuck that. i’m going to stay at the front, not necessarily of the pack, but the front end of where i am capable of being.  

as the workout went on i hung on with Nixon and Derek.  These guys are tough, strong, and built for cross.  Derek runs with the strength of a silverback gorilla, Nixon with the stubbornness of a pack mule and without the part of his mind or heart that allows mediocrity.

“this is where i want to be” “this is where i need to be” “this is how it will feel 2k, 4k, 7k into the race” “i think that it’s a sign the the freckles in our eyes are perfectly…focus you bum, focus” “i will recover”

such were my mottos as the pain spread like a poison from my legs northward. my stomach, my chest, my hunching shoulders, my face - looking like the contorted visage of a motherless child - my lungs.

“i will recover”  

a good teammate and great runner, Nigel Wray, told me one time that when he started to really hurt he pictured rolling his pain into a ball like some giant wad of clay.  he rolled it into a ball and held on to it tight. swallowed it.  it’s better to know where the devil is i guess.  i used that technique yesterday, but rather than swallowing my pain i rolled it into a ball and pushed it down. down and out. relax the face, relax the shoulders, relax the arms, relax the diaphragm, relax the legs. i will recover.  

we finished the last interval with a hill in the middle.
we finished the last interval.

on our cool down we dipped in the river where the water flows over roots and rocks and under the bridge.