This week was notable for two events: First, on Friday evening I officially went batshit during my fourteenth consecutive training run on the treadmill. Then, on Sunday I ran a surprisingly good race.
The rest of the week was meh. I doubt I would have gone so nuts had I not had so many doubles. But having a run every morning and evening inside began to feel like a form of punishment. What a relief after Thursday to only have singles to look forward to.
I’d thought that would offer a sufficient mental break from the monotony, but Friday’s failed speed session pushed me over the edge. After that I was so eager to run outside that I did the race on a lark, since it was really good racing weather. That turned out to be what my dearly departed grandmother would have called “a happy accident.”
That race was a confidence booster. Not only because I did better than expected, but also because it was five miles at 7:05 avg pace, with hills and wind, on tired legs. I need to run five miles under 7:00 avg pace in Central Park in three weeks. Yesterday showed me that with a proper taper this is no longer a long shot. I just need to get into my second corral early so I can start as far ahead of the sub-8:00 dawdlers as possible.
There’s not a whole lot else to say. I was scheduled to hit 75 miles, but fell short again slightly. It doesn’t matter. I appear to be thriving on what I’m doing, so I’m not going to sweat a few missing miles here and there. This week’s a down week, with just 65 miles and only one day of doubles. Good thing, as we’ve got shit weather predicted again, so I’m likely to be running a lot of those miles inside again. Send meds.