Tracking My (Lack of) Progress
Last night I returned to the San Diego Track Club’s Tuesday night workouts. Before all my summer adventures, we were doing 400s and 800s and 1200s around makeshift, grassy courses at Balboa Park. During my lengthy absence, the training switched to hills and dirt trails to help those readying for the AFC Half Marathon and the Dirt Dog cross country series that kicked off last weekend.
I thought about bailing, but then I decided that talking myself out of a 4-mile run the first week of my new training program didn’t bode well for future weeks. So I towed the line with about 60 others around 5:45 p.m. and headed into the woods to run a circuitous course incorporating some steep hills. The first was Powderpuff, an apt name since you end up inhaling the dust of the runners in front of you. Once you climb the summit, gasping for air, you run though a dog park and onto Balboa Drive before tucking into another wooded area for more trails. Eventually you turn up at the far end of the large park and head down and then back up steep Sixth Avenue, the hill that got the best of me during the AFC. This time I managed much better, but, then again, I hadn’t just run 11 miles on an empty stomach.
We did the zigzag loop twice, and the second time the slower of us were stretched farther apart. Eventually there was enough distance that I was essentially running alone through the woods. No one immediately ahead of me. No one close behind. By then my breathing and my body had fallen into a comfortable rhythm that allowed my mind to wander ever so slightly and enjoy the Emersonian moment before I hit the asphalt of Balboa Drive again and mentally braced for that Sixth Avenue hill. I’d told myself I could cheat, since I’d already gone beyond the required 4 miles in my plan, but I still had some spring in my step and so I not only did the darn thing, but I passed several people in the process.
I’m now looking forward to next week, and the weeks after. I redid my Sunday long run course using a new mapping tool that someone posted on the track club message board called MapMyRun. I was hoping it would prove I’d run farther, but damned if it didn’t confirm I ran only 12 miles. It’s got to be all the hills holding me back. All the more reason to look forward to Tuesday nights in the near future. And a flatter long run down the road.
I thought about bailing, but then I decided that talking myself out of a 4-mile run the first week of my new training program didn’t bode well for future weeks. So I towed the line with about 60 others around 5:45 p.m. and headed into the woods to run a circuitous course incorporating some steep hills. The first was Powderpuff, an apt name since you end up inhaling the dust of the runners in front of you. Once you climb the summit, gasping for air, you run though a dog park and onto Balboa Drive before tucking into another wooded area for more trails. Eventually you turn up at the far end of the large park and head down and then back up steep Sixth Avenue, the hill that got the best of me during the AFC. This time I managed much better, but, then again, I hadn’t just run 11 miles on an empty stomach.
We did the zigzag loop twice, and the second time the slower of us were stretched farther apart. Eventually there was enough distance that I was essentially running alone through the woods. No one immediately ahead of me. No one close behind. By then my breathing and my body had fallen into a comfortable rhythm that allowed my mind to wander ever so slightly and enjoy the Emersonian moment before I hit the asphalt of Balboa Drive again and mentally braced for that Sixth Avenue hill. I’d told myself I could cheat, since I’d already gone beyond the required 4 miles in my plan, but I still had some spring in my step and so I not only did the darn thing, but I passed several people in the process.
I’m now looking forward to next week, and the weeks after. I redid my Sunday long run course using a new mapping tool that someone posted on the track club message board called MapMyRun. I was hoping it would prove I’d run farther, but damned if it didn’t confirm I ran only 12 miles. It’s got to be all the hills holding me back. All the more reason to look forward to Tuesday nights in the near future. And a flatter long run down the road.
