Guess what I got to do last night for the first Tuesday in 16 weeks?
Special edition Rundies, courtesy of picmonkey photo editing software
The new Track Party 2.0 combines a few of my favorite things :
- Not waking up at the ass crack of dawn
- Battling rush hour on the 405
- Testing my “iron stomach” claim with puke-inducing workouts on a full day of food
- Friends (missed you, K)
- Trying to do simple math under oxygen depletion
(ok only a few of those are really my favorites)
When Margot moved to LA in September one of my biggest concerns (other than when we’d froyo date) was what would happen to our weekly AM meetings at the oval, which at the time was very conveniently < 5 miles from all of us. K and I kept the tradition alive, but it just wasn’t the same without the FasterBunny to chase.
Speedwork is hard, and mustering up the motivation to find and drive to a track to run in circles is always a challenge. But if you’ve got friends waiting for you, especially the kind that always have great stories to fill warm up/recover/cool down time with (did you read about her run-in w the cops?), it makes it a lot easier.
And so, for the sake of all our training (and mental well-being), we decided to battle evening rush hour to drive to a new-to-us, centrally-located track and revive Track Party Tuesday.
Best idea ever.
K got tied up at work for episode #1, but was there in spirit
This track is un-lit and not nearly as nice as the one we used to stomp around on (not to mention the 80 minute round-trip commute), but it’s so worth it to get an ass-kicking workout in and have Margot & K there so I don’t have to try and pace or calculate splits. Just tag along and try not to trip anybody.
We started easy with 5×800, and while our times were nowhere near where they used to be (OBVIOUSLY), I’m excited to see them start dropping and the reps increasing. +1 to the track for its quantitative, measurable progress!
… and +1+1+1 for that familiar feeling of “OMG seriously I’m going to vomit” (and spending the next 200m debating whether you’ll pause your watch if you fall in the infield to puke or if you’ll try to run through it, snot-rocket style.)