Sometimes life gets in the way of passions. Sometimes there is just a lack of it.
Last week I ran on empty. My posting floundered. My run schedule looked like this:
With relatively nice weather I plotted a nice downtown run, with the beginning and end being where I work. It was either this route, or one near my parents out in the county that was a much flatter, and more boring out and back.
City streetscapes just do so much more in terms of breaking up the potential monotony of running alone. Plus, I didn’t cheat myself of a hill or two. As a matter of fact, I finished mile seven of the run with a nice little incline.
This was also a pace-run according to the training schedule. I came in about ten seconds faster than necessary, a pretty good deal considering the end of this run marked 25 miles of running between Friday through Sunday.
Spin. Another hour spin class. I’m loving these, they do great at working out muscle soreness and my legs feel a lot less beat up, compared to doing the normal 4-to-6 mile recovery run.
I moved up a pace group, thinking I would keep up with friends and push myself just a tad bit harder. I also easily ran with this pace group in the past. The plan was to only run 30 seconds faster than pace for short distances with small breaks in between. A bit dismayed, I barely held on for three laps, and then cursed on the fourth.
I’m competitive. I can be childish. I cursed the coach leading our pace group under my breath as he (a) went faster than the proposed group pace when we started out and then (b) did not announce extra credit for those who wanted it. Honestly though, those able to keep up, a majority of the group, were not complaining.
One hour spin with a new instructor who likes to beat the crap out of her participants, which unlike the actual running coach, I don’t seem to mind as much.
This week’s long lone run wasn’t your typical run. The group was running a competitive 10K on Saturday morning, with a few add on miles before and after the race for an 8 to 10 mile total. I work early Saturday mornings, so I wasn’t able to join the group. The weather in Cincinnati was atrocious on Friday afternoon — cold with a mix of sleet and rain. Somehow I managed to run eight miles on a gym dreadmill and I felt good with it.
Another dreadmill day. Four miles to loosen the legs.
Total: A shameful 21 miles, down from the 30 plus the week before.