I was exhausted at the end of yesterday despite having done very little. Technicolor dreams and a long sleep saw me wake up still groggy and deprived. Nothing a coffee wouldn’t fix, I thought, half-asleep, squinting at a NYTimes article about the September Vogue cover.
It was a long session with 800s, ending with a two-mile effort. Several of the boys were already at the track. I did my usual easy loops warm up and joined them for some stride work and dynamic stretching. I laughed at myself seeing their lithe lean bodies, stretching and moving this way and that – and me – stiff as a plyboard.
Off we went, Coach Ravi at the start line, yelling our splits every lap. First interval too slow. Second, bang on pace. And so, it went – heart in the mouth running – but I tried to take deep breaths into my stomach and relax into the run, ease into the hard effort, feeling the build up after each lap, each interval. I finished the 800s strong and faster than prescribed pace.
The two miler went on endlessly and when I finished, I wasn’t sure whether I was on target or not. When I checked, I was – and I was faster for it. Phew, I thought, that worked. Just about.
It was satisfying and as always I couldn’t be more grateful to the boys at the track – that I had this exalted company – that when we ran in formation, it felt like something. Even for a plyboard.
Writing about Running 