A Runner's Story #6: Molly stole my compliment.

Senior year of high school, my coach decided to take the team to a trail we hadn't trained on. We went to White Rock Lake and ran an out-and-back along the perimeter. The newbies, of course, ran less than the more experienced runners, and since I was the only senior, I had the farthest to run.

A general goal for this type of workout is to run a negative split. This means the second half of the run, after the turn-around, is faster. But I had even more motivation on this particular run. As I was headed back to the bus, picking up the pace, a couple of (attractive) guys fell in line behind me, apparently just starting their work out at a relaxed pace through which they could carry on a conversation. Even at this "relaxed" pace, I was hammering out the back half of my run.

I was tired, sweat dripping from the ear lobes, arms swinging, knees leading the way. In just a few minutes, I would be done for the day. To feed my pride, I made it goal not to let these guys pass (not that it mattered, but I was working my ass off, and they were just talking away, keeping up like it was nothing). They had no idea how much they were pushing me, helping me.

I could finally see the bus (I think my coach nicknamed it the Yellow Dog). I opened my strides and swung my arms a little wider, chest out, head up.

I accomplished two goals that day: a negative split and ahead of those guys. As I walked toward my team, who patiently awaited my return, one of the guys shouted out to me as he and his buddy ran by, "Hey, good run!" Before I could gather enough breath to respond, Molly, an indescribable teammate, with a big smile and a wave, yelled back, "Thanks!"

...

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just a little bitter about Molly stealing my compliment, but the pride washed off as I drenched myself in water.



But still, that was my compliment, not hers.

Boo hoo

The past two mornings of my life have been filled with pain and shame--and this is the kind of pain I don't like. I began Insanity to assist me in speed training and to try something new, and in doing so, had to throw my pride right out the window, drive over it, drag it through the mud...you get the picture.

I've mentioned in a past post that with running came some sacrifices, the loss of other athletic abilities as my body grew accustomed to repetitive motion. Swing the arms, lift the legs, hundreds to thousands of times per run.

Insanity requires pushing the heart rate to the max (safely) within just a few moments, holding it for minutes at a time, bringing it back down, building it back up, and so forth. It requires speed and agility, neither of which I possess. It also requires lots of motivation, which I apparently dropped during the warm up. I spent entire circuits sitting on the couch, discouraged, almost content. Only now, as I type these words, am I reminded of my own motto--make it hurt.

I'm not sure any amount of encouragement could motivate me enough to stick it out through an entire workout of Insanity, but you could try.

Gotta run.