It's been a glorious running time since last November when I stopped carting along all my miscellaneous running accoutrement for the sakes of training, improving my times, hydrating to avoid raisin-liver, fueling to avoid raisin-stomach and so on.
I did not realize how nice and glorious it actually was until this morning when I went out to reacquaint myself with the concept of tempo or interval running.
You know, that Supah Technical thing I do which is probably not really Tempo or Interval running in the way that, say Runner's World or a legitimate runner would consider it to be since it doesn't involve a track or anything measured in 800s.
No, instead my idea of a Tempo run goes like this: run at pace for 5 minutes, sprint for 1 minute - repeat until you've covered your normal short route and found yourself back at home staring at the dog and hope to hell that the Garmin says something like less than 25 minutes and a pace below 10:00m/m.
It's disappointing when you can't even live up to your own ill-conceived training concepts, let's say.
Let's say that because that was me this morning, coming in at 25:30 and a pace of 10:01.
I mean, I nearly barfed. As I huffed toward the driveway and tried to use my Jedi powers to force the Garmin to read 24:anything, I nearly barfed down the side of Bubba's truck.
And then again when I looked down at the mentally-superior Garmin and it said 25:30. Boo.
I got to wait until I was at work with my Garmin USB stick, watch and online graphing tools before I could experience the next blow. That being the 10:00m/m+ pace.
Good thing I really wanted that whole wheat bagel to stay on the inside and really didn't want to walk back downstairs for another one because I might have been apt to chuck on my laptop just then.
I blame my peg-legs.
That's right. I'm a fucking pirate out there with my sore-to-the-point-of-full-rigidity hamstrings which are the result of some post-run weeding I did over the weekend.
And let's talk about that for one second because how is it that can I run six miles and experience no sore muscles whatsoever but throw in an hour of weeding and I'm hobbling around like I need an eye patch and a parrot on my shoulder.
Even with all the douchey post-weeding stretching that I do so that I don't get the post-weeding hamstring soreness that I always get regardless.
I can't win.
Also, I'm sure my slowness had nothing to do with the casual naked runs I've been enjoying since my last official race when I finally secured my sub-30 5K PR and became delusional as to my own speed.
Pfffft - I don't NEED this watch telling me my pace. I'm fast, bitch! I run 9 minute miles like, off the couch, man, and I don't need some new fangly wrist-mounted device to tell me that. Get out of my way! I might crush you with my speed blur!
Not to mention the fact that a 9 minute mile pace isn't exactly lighting the roads aflame or anything. A fact I'm continually faced with since I read a lot of runner blogs by human people who regularly run in the 6s and 7s and have sub-20 5K PRs.
How is it possible that legs can move so fast? I have legs. They can't move this fast. These people must have super human legs. Or, you know, at least a passing acquaintance with legitimate training programs.
The point here is that I'm back to my Supah Technical training with the intent of somehow securing a sub-60 10K PR in April. and WHOA do I have more work to do toward that end than I imagined.
I mean, I really thought that taking a break from slaving for the Garmin and just enjoying my runs would have a positive effect on my pace, if anything, because I wouldn't be, you know, hauling that huge beast around on my left arm and, like, discombobulating my pace every fifteen seconds by swinging my heavy eyeballs in its direction to check my pace, elevation, time, Virtual Partner Asshole status and so on.
Apparently my ability to measure the drag coefficient of this Garmin is in question. Which, obviously, since I had to look up "how to measure drag" and then didn't understand any of the results and just grabbed "drag coefficient" because it sounded brainy and like a form of math I could certainly never do.
Yay. I'm slow and a math retard.
Well, I guess we haven't learned anything new today BUT I'm back at the helm of my own running delusions and there is a race on the calendar so let's enjoy that, then.
OH. One last thing. I got the new 2010 model of Brooks Adrenaline GTS' and HO HO they have removable insoles, unlike the 2009s which were sewn down with a great intensity requiring me to either go without insoles (bad for knees. bad for shin splints. bad for Finny.) or use substandard insoles with too little cushioning (why bother) or stack green Superfeet insoles in there and loosen the laces to accommodate both the insoles stacked on insoles and my feet.
Which is what I've been doing. Because I needed the cushioning. Because my shin splints are firey hot beasts of fury and if I run six miles without insoles in these post 2006-model Brooks' they become enraged and try to kill me with shin pain. (The 2006 model of this shoe was the last one that had cushioning enough to my taste. Ever since, they've firmed up their insoles and my shins have been bearing the brunt.)
So I stacked insoles and my feet into the shoes and went on with my runs.
It was not ideal. There was some top-of-foot bone crushing and some side-of-baby-toe rubbing but there was not any shin splint fire or searing knee spiciness, so I dealt.
Until such time as I gave up with my fancy idea of switching 100% to trail running so I can't buy street running shoes and also trail running shoes because that would be kuh-razy! and just bought myself a new pair of street running shoes when I saw that Brooks released their 2010 model of the Adrenaline GTS and LO it had removable insoles.
That's a long way of saying a pair of running shoes has removable insoles, yes.
It was a big moment for me.
Thankfully, I was not judged harshly during this moment of absurd excitement since my Running Crazy coincided favorably with Bubba's Backpacking Crazy as he lost his shit over his new Big Agnes sleeping bag with integrated sleeping pad sleeve at that very same moment.
A sleeping bag with sleeve on the back for your sleeping pad. THAT IS GENIUS. So genius I'm pissed I didn't think of it first. Even after all those nights of waking up with my ass on the cold hard ground and my sleeping pad just WAY THE FUCK OVER THERE because I'd slipped off of it during a night of rustle-y twisting.
Anyway. We both get excited about being able to take things in and out of other things, I guess.
And I guess that also sounds a little porny.
So I'm going to end this post and act like it didn't happen.