My name is Tony

So I said this morning to the young boy who was protesting, loudly, against the hill repeats.

Saying something loudly doesn’t make it so, just like if I yell, ‘my name is Tony,’ doesn’t make it my name. And we both burst into laughter.

Earlier, much earlier, I went to track and inaugurated my first intervals for the year. Alternating between 400s and 800s, Ashwini, Sujit and I hammered out the repetitions.

We started each repetition fast and then settled into a rhythm – the 400s of push and speed – the 800s of adjustment and ever so slight caution. After all, I had to last.

In that, I tried the negative split approach for 800s, pushing the second loop just a second or two faster than the conservative first. It worked and still felt like a 8-9 on the RPE scale.

I am sure the track boys felt the same way – the exertion. The difference between me and them apart from age is the elegance with which their effort is manifested whereas I feel like I am floundering on sacred land.

And so it ended, me pleased at the session, all the same feeling the irony of these thoughts.