Last night, I did a hard tempo/speed run. Speed was the goal. I tried. I really tried. My fast-twitch muscles were MIA after Satuday’s long run. I stubbornly plodded on faster than usual. Faster than my race pace.
An 8-mile tempo run:
3 x 1-mile at cruise tempo pace (8:10 in my dreams, more like 8:31, 8:53 and 8:37) w/1-minute in between
4 x 400 w/200 rest in between
But the highlight of the night came when I left a message on Sandy’s answering machine -– letting her know how much infantile enjoyment I was getting out of the show she turned me onto “Wipeout.” It’s like a very cruel Mud Run. She called me back and asked with a laugh, “Have you been drinking? You were slurring!” Damn, I hadn’t had a drop to drink. That’s how tired I sound this week. You’ve heard of a runner’s high. Yeah, apparently I had a tempo buzz.