AM: 6 miles easy
PM: 3 miles @ 5:30, 5:00 rec, 3 miles @ 5:30, 4:00 rec, 2 miles @ 5:20, 12 miles
Morning run was in Rock Creek Park. Nothing much to report except that I saw a hawk alongside me at eye level.
The afternoon workout was...absolutely horrid. And things started so well.
I met Jake, Jason, and Billy at B-CC to do this workout on the Capital Crescent. For the first rep, slightly downhill, I felt great and totally in control: 5:28, 5:25, 5:25.
But when the next rep started, I could tell immediately that something wasn't there. The half-mile splits that were ticking by suddenly seemed to take forever. Shortly thereafter, Dwyer and Klim dropped me, and I was struggling. My pace crumbled: 5:30, 5:35...(sound of pulling grenade pin)...6:00. My quads had no life in them, and to top it off, my stomach wasn't "cooperating." If it had been one or the other, then I should have been feeling better, but it's like the two forces were scheming against me.
I should have called it a day here, but thought, "Hey, maybe you were just being a p**** in that last mile. Get it together."
So off I went with Klim and Dwyer for the last 2-mile rep, running half splits of 2:34, 2:42...(sound of aforementioned grenade exploding in my hand)...2:50. I was decelerating, despite running slightly downhill. I then got pissed, turning off my watch. I murmured, "F***!" and started walking bitterly, feeling angry with myself.
To rub salt in my wounds, I then had to make a stop in the woods. After that, I realized how totally depleted I felt. My legs were lifeless and daring me to run faster. I couldn't run in a straight line. My 3-mile "cooldown" took me somewhere in the neighborhood of 35-40 minutes to complete. When you're down, you're down.
I went home, got some dinner, and sat in an ice bath while listening to Bill Clinton. Hearing his speeches are always a reminder why he was elected in the first place way back in '92: he's one of the most charismatic people on the planet.
It wasn't that I ran like an asshole today. Nay, it was Monday when I ran like an asshole, when I broke my cardinal rule of no doubles the days after long races. Personal history has shown that this never ends well, yet I didn't listen to my own advice. It's fairly obvious why my legs felt so beat up (see Exhibit A: Sunday's race).
Consequently, when I went to the well to day, the well had run dry. This workout should have been easy money for me, playing to my strengths, but instead, a lack of recovery sabotaged my workout. I will live, however: I just have to pick myself back up.
Exhibit A
PM: 3 miles @ 5:30, 5:00 rec, 3 miles @ 5:30, 4:00 rec, 2 miles @ 5:20, 12 miles
Morning run was in Rock Creek Park. Nothing much to report except that I saw a hawk alongside me at eye level.
The afternoon workout was...absolutely horrid. And things started so well.
I met Jake, Jason, and Billy at B-CC to do this workout on the Capital Crescent. For the first rep, slightly downhill, I felt great and totally in control: 5:28, 5:25, 5:25.
But when the next rep started, I could tell immediately that something wasn't there. The half-mile splits that were ticking by suddenly seemed to take forever. Shortly thereafter, Dwyer and Klim dropped me, and I was struggling. My pace crumbled: 5:30, 5:35...(sound of pulling grenade pin)...6:00. My quads had no life in them, and to top it off, my stomach wasn't "cooperating." If it had been one or the other, then I should have been feeling better, but it's like the two forces were scheming against me.
I should have called it a day here, but thought, "Hey, maybe you were just being a p**** in that last mile. Get it together."
So off I went with Klim and Dwyer for the last 2-mile rep, running half splits of 2:34, 2:42...(sound of aforementioned grenade exploding in my hand)...2:50. I was decelerating, despite running slightly downhill. I then got pissed, turning off my watch. I murmured, "F***!" and started walking bitterly, feeling angry with myself.
To rub salt in my wounds, I then had to make a stop in the woods. After that, I realized how totally depleted I felt. My legs were lifeless and daring me to run faster. I couldn't run in a straight line. My 3-mile "cooldown" took me somewhere in the neighborhood of 35-40 minutes to complete. When you're down, you're down.
I went home, got some dinner, and sat in an ice bath while listening to Bill Clinton. Hearing his speeches are always a reminder why he was elected in the first place way back in '92: he's one of the most charismatic people on the planet.
It wasn't that I ran like an asshole today. Nay, it was Monday when I ran like an asshole, when I broke my cardinal rule of no doubles the days after long races. Personal history has shown that this never ends well, yet I didn't listen to my own advice. It's fairly obvious why my legs felt so beat up (see Exhibit A: Sunday's race).
Consequently, when I went to the well to day, the well had run dry. This workout should have been easy money for me, playing to my strengths, but instead, a lack of recovery sabotaged my workout. I will live, however: I just have to pick myself back up.
Exhibit A
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