September 8th 2016

Today is Thursday and Thursday is track day. It was my fourth time running around the track (which I’ve found out is an Olympic standard track that was funded by the London 2012 games, or something). Track running is different from normal running insofar as it’s a lot faster, and a lot slower. You run super fast for a minute or so, and then you get to jog  400m slowly in recovery. But my problem today was that even the 400m recovery jog tired me out.

My first 400m sprint I did in 74 seconds. Which is quite quick, actually. We then walked 100m in recovery and then did a 300m sprint. Which I did in something like 57 seconds. And then we had to do a laps recovery. By the time I looped back to the start line I was shagged (which is a term I use for ‘tired’ by the way) and so my next 400m sprint I completed in 87 seconds. A full dozen seconds slower than the first one. I hadn’t really recovered from my recovery lap, so I couldn’t give it 100% because of the aforementioned ‘shagged’ness. After walking the next 100m and jogging the 300m sprint, I tried a different recovery tactic. Instead of jogging a whole lap and still be panting with my heart pounding by the end of it, I let my heart rate settle by walking a 200m recovery.

The next 400m sprint I did in 76 seconds. Which is back to being fast again.

I think a lot of running is knowing what you’re capable of. And I’m still trying to work that out. I don’t know how fast I can go for what distance. A couple of days ago I was challenged into trying to do a 600m segment in a faster time than my boss. I gave it a go and was killing it for about 200m until I had to pull up and walk the rest of the way through fear of death by lack of oxygen and/or drowning from falling into the canal. Firstly, it didn’t look like 600m to my unspectacled eyes, and second, I don’t know what my 600m pace is, but I feel like it shouldn’t be the same as my 200m pace.

And so because I’d killed myself trying to go as fast as humanly possible, I struggled to see out the run and walked more of the remaining 2kms back to the office than I should’ve done.

I think I’m guilty of going a bit too hard, lately. Exhibited by the fact that I’m struggling to climb stairs or sit up in bed due to shooting pains in my hips. I think tomorrow should probably be a recovery day. But where’s the fun in that?

No, seriously.

Until tomorrow, recover.




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