This week I was training myself as my coach continues to struggle with access and computer issues. I didn’t mind. The combination of having worked with him for well over a year and not really training for any goal in particular means it’s been pretty easy for me just to look at old workout schedules and approximate what I should be doing.
I celebrated my birthday with a fun general aerobic run. Then decided to throw in some speedwork later in the week to try to rev up my legs for Sunday’s race. I just did a little — not even two miles. I’d planned to do four 1K repeats, but was beat after the third one and I’ve learned that this is the time to stop.
I took Saturday off, I think because I had a shitload of work to do in order to free up Sunday. There is a great myth that those of us who “work for ourselves” (another concept that really isn’t true; we actually have numerous bosses) have loads of free time. I, at least, don’t. I average around 45-55 hours of work most weeks, between my corporate day gig and my freelance projects. When the freelance is really flowing in it can be as high as 65+, but fortunately those weeks are rare.
Thank goodness I have no commute (it’s five steps from my bedroom to my office), or I’d never be as disciplined a runner as I am. (Either that or I’d have to take a page from Ted Corbitt’s book and run back and forth to work in Manhattan.) It’s for this reason that running in the neighborhood of 50 mpw has been refreshing.
Anyway. Still coasting.