There’s no rest for the wicked: this evening I got home from the office, changed into my shiniest running kit, then went back to the track. Tomorrow I’m staying in all night and minding the baby while my wife gets out of her mind on syrup and blows the whole joint up*, and I’m quite looking forward to sitting on the sofa and expending as little energy as possible. But tonight is another session of speed work, the last one before the race this weekend.
(Note that I say "weekend" because I’m now really not sure if it takes place on Saturday or Sunday morning. What _is_ it like to be organized?)
Tonight was one of my least favourite sessions: 5×400 and 4×800, alternated with either 3 minutes for the 400s, or 5 minutes for the 800s. I always go out too quick, then really suffer on the 800s, then grow increasingly sluggish on the 400s, and there never seems to be enough recovery time, and it’s too hard to think about. But on the other hand, there were no freakishly large moths on the track tonight, and although I was tired from the last two days, you get some extra energy from running with other people.
I hardly got up from my desk today, which was not a good thing, my knees beginning to seize up from my lack of movement. I have been remembering to apply the Stick to my legs every day as soon as I wake up, even if last night I ended up sleeping on the couch because it was insanely hot in the spare room. I dread to think how inflexible I’d be without the Stick.
So without realizing it, my 400m times were all quite close together; it was the 800s that were all over the place. I’m not sure how close lap times need to be to count as consistent, but my better 5k effort kept most of them within a couple of seconds of target pace, so to be out by more than 10 seconds over two laps isn’t great. I think I was running the first lap of each 800 quite strongly, then fading on the second one: blame that on accumulated fatigue.
I wore my shiny Betabrand shorts and vest today; it turns out the top is not as breathable as I’d hoped, (as in it feels like I’ve lost a kilo of sweat) and the shorts are uncomfortably chafing, which I don’t want to write about and I doubt anyone wants to read about. Better to discover this in controlled circumstances when running 5 kilometers, than half way through a half marathon.
* a.k.a. "a girls’ night out" but it’s fair to assume they’ll be raising the roof: young mums on the rampage show no mercy to the weak and fainthearted, and she’s got catching up to do on the drinking front.