After last weekend’s brutal Borgess (Nat City) Half and Race for the Cure my legs felt a little spent. This is not the feeling you want heading into a heavy mileage week—even if it is your last week before the blessed taper. I had two 10M runs (one at pace) and then a 22M to 24M long run looming on the schedule.
So, I offered a deal to my body, the preverbal olive branch. My mind said to my body. “Alas [my mind loves this word], I know you and I have had our disagreements over the years. How we ever managed to get through college together still bewilders me. But, here is the deal. I need you to perform well over this upcoming week so that I may begin to feel confident about the race—and remain confident during that tricky taper madness. So, if you make it through this week, I will respect the taper and not ‘bad pride’ you into doing anything stupid.”
The body responded. 5M at 6:22/M, 10M at 6:52/M, 5M at 6:55/M for my Tues-Wed-Thurs runs. Then on my 10M pace run it provided a 6:42/M average with 6:35 being the fastest mile and 6:52 being the slowest. What is best about that run is how close the splits are for a 10M run.
Sunday I managed 23M at 7:13/M pace. Considering the fast 10M run the day before, this was a good run. As to be expected the latter miles were difficult, but they felt good and I wasn’t throwing down 7:45s and 8:00s like my last long run (my slowest mile being 7:31).
So the body had met its end of the bargain, the taper has begun, and now my mind must respect the taper. ‘Alas, I shall do my best to capitulate.’
It's Always Something. . .
1 day ago