Maturing
I got out of the house at 6:35 today, that's progress. Headed out to the 58th St. track to build on last week's workout. I figured I did 3x1600 in 6-flat apiece last week, let's see if I can do four of them today. Things didn't quite work that way - the first 400 came in at 1:35 on the way to a 6:12 time for the first 1600. The next rep came in at 6:06. Number 3 was in 6:05. And after a mad dash over the last 200, the final rep was in 6:04.
A good track workout means that I leave with some new insight into myself. Today I felt like I challenged myself from where I was at. I like the track I'm running at, complete with its cinder surface, the grass encroaching into the first lane, and the joggers and walkers, mostly older African-American men, who sometimes move to the outside lines when I pass and sometimes not. These singular features make for times that can only approximately be compared to other tracks, so the best yardstick becomes past performance. By this measure I did worse today than last week. After the first 400 I knew I would. But taking the first 1600 as a measure, I did progressively better with each subsequent rep. So disappointment gets tempered with satisfaction at having hung in there. It feels like I made the best with what I had this morning, and I left the track feeling good about the workout.
It felt mature. Not mature in the sense of being all grown up, mature in the sense that I felt in a place this morning when old times and aspirations were not so important, and I was more oriented to the moment - with where I was at both with myself and my surroundings. Its hard to put into words.
On my first lap I passed an older guy jogging his laps. I said "good morning" and he responded in kind with labored breath. I expected he'd finish soon and there'd be one less person to run around. I lapped him numerous times during my intervals, first arcing around him and towards the end he started using the middle lanes so I could keep on the inside. After I finished and started my cooldown home, he was still doing laps around the track.
All totaled, 11 miles in 89:48.
A good track workout means that I leave with some new insight into myself. Today I felt like I challenged myself from where I was at. I like the track I'm running at, complete with its cinder surface, the grass encroaching into the first lane, and the joggers and walkers, mostly older African-American men, who sometimes move to the outside lines when I pass and sometimes not. These singular features make for times that can only approximately be compared to other tracks, so the best yardstick becomes past performance. By this measure I did worse today than last week. After the first 400 I knew I would. But taking the first 1600 as a measure, I did progressively better with each subsequent rep. So disappointment gets tempered with satisfaction at having hung in there. It feels like I made the best with what I had this morning, and I left the track feeling good about the workout.
It felt mature. Not mature in the sense of being all grown up, mature in the sense that I felt in a place this morning when old times and aspirations were not so important, and I was more oriented to the moment - with where I was at both with myself and my surroundings. Its hard to put into words.
On my first lap I passed an older guy jogging his laps. I said "good morning" and he responded in kind with labored breath. I expected he'd finish soon and there'd be one less person to run around. I lapped him numerous times during my intervals, first arcing around him and towards the end he started using the middle lanes so I could keep on the inside. After I finished and started my cooldown home, he was still doing laps around the track.
All totaled, 11 miles in 89:48.
posted by seebo | 9:04 AM
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