--Ralph Waldo Emerson
If someone would have referenced the above quote to me last week, I probably would have kicked them in the shins. But thankfully, a week later I can see how melodramatic and whack I can be.
Last week was a bitch. Not necessarily running-wise, but just in general. I was on nervous breakdown watch at work. I am still experiencing some network problems that keep me from being able to do any work, which, ummm... Is pretty fucking stressful, y'all.
My running was fairly light on the workout side. I really only had one workout to complete and I was a total fucking mess before it even started. Soooo... Without further adieu here's the week...
Fast: The tempo run from hell (4 mile progressive with each mile 15 seconds faster than the previous).
Long: 14 miles with some tempo miles in there.
So, yeah, the tempo run was pretty much fucked before I even started it. I did it on Wednesday night and luckily I had The KoB there to run it with me. Initially, I was pretty excited about the run. It was going to give me a chance to see how I felt running at a slightly quicker pace. But, by the time I met up with The KoB and got started with the warm up, the excitement was gone and frankly, after a long couple of days at work, I just kinda felt like dogshit and running a workout was the last thing that I wanted to do. As we got closer to the park, I actually felt myself starting to TEAR up. WTF?
We got started and the first one felt pretty decent, but there was a discrepancy between my gps watch and the landmarks for the one mile loop. The first couple of miles, according to my watch I didn't hit my splits the way I was supposed to and that just sent me into a bit of a tailspin, mentally. Luckily, The KoB was there and wouldn't let me fall apart physically. We finished them and I was totally wrecked. I got home and basically went straight to bed.
The next day when I logged my workout, Coach came on and left a message about why all the sorrow? That I had hit my splits perfectly. But, it was just one of those days. One of those days where the workout comes hard and leaves you feeling weak and defeated, even if you did exactly what you were supposed to do. Running/training can really fuck you up in the head, yo.
My long run deserves its own post, so stay tuned for that.
The rest of the week went really, really well. I got in two longer midweek runs, two doubles and I still managed a rest day and ended up with over 60 miles for the week. BOOM.
(For once, I actually have an excuse for typos, boring writing, and grammatical errors. Please excuse it all as I type and post this from an airplane on an iPad. Which, btw, holy fucking shit is it hard to put the cursor where you want it. If this were my iPad, it'd be floating down 10,000 feet somewhere over Oklahoma. Instead, I've just injured my index finger from an hour of aggressive tapping. Ugh, technology. Blarg).