Tuesday’s workout was bad. I felt so beat up, like I had just run a race the day before. A hard race. Like I had some muscle damage and needed to take a rest. Not exactly sure why, to be honest. Since life is not scientific and it’s all a jumble and we can’t isolate control variables, I can’t really know. But I have my theories.
The lax answer is it was likely a bunch of stuff, an accumulation of stresses. Namely, 30 miles of road running (I usually stick mostly to trails) at 30 degrees Fahrenheit in Central Park, followed by two intense hill workouts in Griffith Park, one which involved some downhill racing, another which included sprints (18 x 15 seconds) on a service road, and I almost forgot to mention the squats with kettle bells, which I’m fairly certain were performed with less than perfect form and to some excess, to say nothing of the stress to the body inherent in travel itself. Still, I was a little puzzled to feel so sore. And I’d love to isolate that variable, the one that caused all the soreness. Perhaps the best metric of the run: It was not fun.
Here’s the badness, in numbers:
45:55 5.01 miles 9:10 min/mile 8:58 8:37 9:14 9:41 9:17
So yesterday I took a rest day. Today, I headed out determined to run slow, easy, relaxed. It was a little difficult at first, but it was great to get into a groove and just keep the arms moving straight ahead like pistons. Nice and easy. A very pleasant run. I am very happy that I didn’t actually incur any significant injury, was able to escape with a day off and some easy running. I’ll try again tomorrow. Saturday will probably be the usual mayhem.
Here’s the goodness, in numbers:
58:06 5.71 miles 10:11 min/mile 9:53 10:22 10:22 10:07 10:05 10:17