The tortoise and the hare

My quads have recovered from last week’s travelling lunges…I’ve been doing them all week trying to loosen up my thighs. They were pretty tight for the first few days. Through the miserable weather I’ve been using my treadmill.

Running in the deep, dark basement this week was made all the more boring because my eight-year-old son stole my television for his “man cave” and his Playstation 2. (As a result, I am now able to recite the sticker advertising on my Rubbermaid storage containers—in three languages.)

Such are the sacrifices of mothers.

But on Monday night, what I had feared most came upon me. I looked and felt like a turtle. My second weekly running meeting consisted of a 4K run (10 minutes run/1 minute walk)—which in itself wasn’t the problem. The problem was trying to keep up with the three or four 10K keeners who weren’t there the week before, but suddenly decided to show up and make me look like a sloth.

I can’t figure out why they’re so fast: is it because they’re half my age, or half my size?

And they talk while they run. They’re fast and they talk—I can’t figure that out. This is one reason why I’ve never run with people. When people do things together, they naturally want to chat. Not me—I find it hard to chat while I’m gasping for air.

We finished the 4K in about 30 minutes.  I managed to keep the others in sight, dragging up the rear by about a block, and I had to work pretty hard to do that. I suspect they were slowing down for me.

Perhaps it’s because I’m unconsciously pushing myself harder on the 10 minute segments, but I’m finding myself more tired than if I just ran without stopping. In some ways, I feel like my body is getting less fit, not more fit.

But as an old friend was often fond of saying, “children and fools judge things half done.”

So I’m pushing myself, right? That’s what this is all about.

Training this week is at least 2 more 4K runs (all running, no walking), and a 6K run/walk on Sunday.