When You're Here, You're Family
I finally made it back to the track club’s Tuesday night workout after another self-imposed hiatus.
I told myself I needed to get back into speedwork. I told myself I needed to do this by the time daylight savings ended and we moved from Balboa Park back to historic Balboa Stadium. I told fellow trackmate Jeanette I’d do this too, so that I couldn’t talk myself out of going again.
I had a lot of angst to burn off. So much so that I put in three miles early that morning because the excess energy upon awakening couldn’t wait until 5:30 in the evening to be released. I thought about the wisdom of that quick pre-dawn run when we began the workout: three 1-mile sessions done any way we wanted, so long as they were completed with recovery jogs in under 10 minutes. You could do any combination of laps…1600s, 800s, 400s, etc. I elected to do the full mile and hope there was enough time to recover before we lined up for the next round. I got nervous whenever the coach started yelling into his bullhorn that some of us needed to hurry it up if we wanted to finish on time. That horn appeared to be pointed at me every time. I did manage between 8:45s and 8:50s, but the minute or so in between sure felt short. I’d forgotten to eat a snack a couple of hours earlier, and certainly wished for more water given it was unusually warm that evening due to a Santa Ana.
Once I started moving, I knew this was the best place for me to be. Actually, I knew it soon as I parked across the freeway and met up with Cuong on the pedestrian bridge. And when I chatted with some of the old-timers during a warm-up. This was our first time back at the track since the Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon training ended in late May/early June. I talked to Tyler, too, about his preparations for the upcoming Carlsbad Marathon. And Chris about his work. I enjoyed running in ovals under the field lights and getting passed by all the other intermediate runners. No, really. As much as I enjoy a crowd, tonight I needed time by myself, in both an emotional and physical sense, and was grateful to trail everyone under the cover of night. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t also enjoy griping about the heat with Carola when we momentarily were side-by-side or exchanging a few words with German about writing a short time later. During crunches, I discussed Achilles tendonitis with Linda, whom I’ve talked to before but never introduced myself.
I returned home that night far more relaxed than when I’d left the house, despite a mile-long traffic pileup just as I pulled off my exit. I slept a little better than I had in weeks. I woke with renewed interest this morning for the tasks ahead. Heck, I was even cordial to my nemesis at work. I’m sure the track workout had something to do with it. But I’m also convinced it’s the company I kept that evening that provided something more.
I told myself I needed to get back into speedwork. I told myself I needed to do this by the time daylight savings ended and we moved from Balboa Park back to historic Balboa Stadium. I told fellow trackmate Jeanette I’d do this too, so that I couldn’t talk myself out of going again.
I had a lot of angst to burn off. So much so that I put in three miles early that morning because the excess energy upon awakening couldn’t wait until 5:30 in the evening to be released. I thought about the wisdom of that quick pre-dawn run when we began the workout: three 1-mile sessions done any way we wanted, so long as they were completed with recovery jogs in under 10 minutes. You could do any combination of laps…1600s, 800s, 400s, etc. I elected to do the full mile and hope there was enough time to recover before we lined up for the next round. I got nervous whenever the coach started yelling into his bullhorn that some of us needed to hurry it up if we wanted to finish on time. That horn appeared to be pointed at me every time. I did manage between 8:45s and 8:50s, but the minute or so in between sure felt short. I’d forgotten to eat a snack a couple of hours earlier, and certainly wished for more water given it was unusually warm that evening due to a Santa Ana.
Once I started moving, I knew this was the best place for me to be. Actually, I knew it soon as I parked across the freeway and met up with Cuong on the pedestrian bridge. And when I chatted with some of the old-timers during a warm-up. This was our first time back at the track since the Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon training ended in late May/early June. I talked to Tyler, too, about his preparations for the upcoming Carlsbad Marathon. And Chris about his work. I enjoyed running in ovals under the field lights and getting passed by all the other intermediate runners. No, really. As much as I enjoy a crowd, tonight I needed time by myself, in both an emotional and physical sense, and was grateful to trail everyone under the cover of night. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t also enjoy griping about the heat with Carola when we momentarily were side-by-side or exchanging a few words with German about writing a short time later. During crunches, I discussed Achilles tendonitis with Linda, whom I’ve talked to before but never introduced myself.
I returned home that night far more relaxed than when I’d left the house, despite a mile-long traffic pileup just as I pulled off my exit. I slept a little better than I had in weeks. I woke with renewed interest this morning for the tasks ahead. Heck, I was even cordial to my nemesis at work. I’m sure the track workout had something to do with it. But I’m also convinced it’s the company I kept that evening that provided something more.
