Monday, Lunchtime:
I set out with Jon to go run Burma. The breeze blew, the birds sang, and the sun beat down on our ears. It was an unusually cool day for August, a gift from our neighbors to the North – clear, with a fresh breeze blowing in off of the Atlantic. Absolute perfect weather to beat the snot out of each other.
One of the “real” runners in the office, Frank, was joining us on Monday, as his usual running buddy was off. But, Frank left his ID in the locker, and had to go grab it right after we started. We went ahead and continued on.
Man, what a day! There’s good ones around here much more often than people let on (Southern New England? Think “Gulf Stream” in the winter, “North Atlantic” in the summer), but this one was Primo, after a week or so of borderline “Hot” weather. Plus, we actually made it out of the office on a Monday, so it felt doubly like playing hooky.
A little after the first mile, Frank caught back up to us.
And something snapped – The juice kicked in (not like doping juice, just “the juice”, y’know?), and I thought to myself, “Self? Sure, you completely blew up last Thursday and Jon spanked you like a whiny child. But today’s a new day. Why not take a flyer off the front, blow out the carbon, go for broke? When you blow up, Frank and Jon’ll continue on and have a pleasant run, and you can run in peace.”
I couldn’t think of any reason why not, so I gradually upped the pace until conversation ceased and I noticed Frank and Jon a pace or two behind. “Great,” I thought, “Now just wait until I croak.”
We continued out until the iPod said “20 minutes”, then turned around. I started to pop almost immediately, but I think that Frank and Jon were, too.
About a mile into the “Back”, Frank finally catches back up and starts talking. Jon’s hanging in pretty well, but about 20 yards back. Frank and I run for a while, putting a little distance into Jon (We did call back after the turn; he told us to go on ahead if we had legs). After about a mile, Frank goes off the front on a gentle rise, and i watch him go, saving some energy for the hill at the end.
Frank slows up for me, and says “We were setting a pretty good pace on the way out. What happened?” I say “I just wanted to see how hard I could go. Dunno why, but I love to press on the out and suffer on the way back.”
We finish up, then walk back to Jon as we’re cooling down. 4.8 miles, 41.5 minutes. Freakin’ Awesome.
Nice job! Glad to see that the snap is coming back into your stride.
Do you think the iPod+Nike setup has something to do with it? Or is it just the EPO…. ;)
At any rate, it’s great to see that you’re still having a blast with the run.
You violate most rules of racing by your tactics but so what? If it feels good to burn off the carbon and push it, why not? There’s no lost medal in these little runs.