It is one week away from my attempt to break the 6-minute mile, as good as any time to reflect on reasons for my singular, compulsive -- one might reasonably say, addictive -- pursuit of running. Especially of the time-goal kind, particularly of the mile run.
I don't know what they are. I could say, It just is," and be done with it. Not everything has to have a reason, does it? But my compulsion requires an explanation, because if I can't explain compulsivity, I will never cure it. It is not the best trait going. And neither is a person who talks to non-runners about their running, which I try to avoid -- with considerable failure. I don't like hearing about it from other runners beyond a certain point myself.
I could say it has a lot to do with the formative years of my K-12 schooling experience, the need to do something that would make me matter (which would mean I didn't think I mattered in some sense, and there is plenty of evidence for that but I won't go into because I quit playing the victim some time ago). I could say I was born with it because I loved racing and beating playmates on my block before I went to school, or that I gravitated towards comic-book super heroes of strength and speed when I learned to read. I could say I was a runner and/or competitor in another life, incarnated in this life carrying over the same predilections, but I can't know whether that's true until I'm dead.
It just is, and I'll take this up another time, because I am not going to get answers while my thoughts are hyper-focused on something else.
Tonight I am doing my last indoor track workout in preparation for an attempt at breaking the 6-minute mile next week at 66 years of age. A sub-6 at 66. It has a nice sound to it.
Roger Bannister, the first man to break the 4-minute mile, died three days ago. I find that synchronistic, especially so because I have by pure luck procured a coach who also happens to be a sub-4 minute miler. I was two years old when Bannister did his.
Tonight's workout is 5x400 meters with a 2.5 minute active rest between each as follows: first 200 in 42-43 seconds, next 100 a jog, last 100 striding out faster than the first 200. A tough little number, but I think I can handle it. It is 2:09 p.m. right now. In four hours I'll be doing it.
I can't say why this matters so much to me. It just is is all.
Now is the morning after, February 7, 2018. I'm a bit sore and stiff, my hamstrings and glutes feeling the effects of a successful workout. Many of my running mates predicted I will reach my goal next week, which was nice. My spirits were high after the workout.
Saginaw Valley University Track Night No. 9, workout completed.
February 6, 2018
In the photograph I'm straddling lanes 4 and 5. I didn't deliberately choose to stand there, but now it seems fitting, almost perfect, like me in my top miler days always somewhere between the 4-minute and 5-minute mile (that's misleading ... only once was I closer to the 4-minute mile than the 5-minute mile ... the majority of my mile runs were clustered in the 4:50s). Perhaps tonight I should have been standing in lane 6 with my left foot in 5. I swear to God, my hair always looks like I'm wearing a wig. What is that on the top of my head?
It was a good workout, according to plan. My five 200 segments were 42.02, 42.89, 42.08, 42.63, and 41.36. The pacing of these ranged from a 5:43 mile to a 5:31 mile. The 100 segments were 19.7, 19.95, 19.99, 19.47, 20.23, and 18.78. I did an extra one because I got confused about my fifth 100, thinking it was a 200. The pacing of the 100s ranged from a 5:20 mile to a 5:00 mile. My 100 jog segments were all around 38 seconds.
* * * * *
It is the morning of February 7. Six days to go. I messaged Ron Becht to check in to see if 20 minutes on the Arc machine at Planet Fitness would be an appropriate workout. I explained that my hamstrings and glutes were sore from last night's workout. He okayed it with this gem: "Just wanna feel rested and confident. The work has been put in. The hay is in the barn."
I love the expressions, and I really get the point, but the confidence thing has been my Achilles heel. Sometimes I can be confident, sometimes not so much. I have a confidence shortage. I wish I could call confidence into being at will. I am going to try next Tuesday. The successful workouts help, especially the 3/4 mile time trial, last night's workout, and the workout of February 20, Track Night No. 7, in which I ran 3x400 @ 83.9, 87.6, 86.3; 4x200 @ 41.6, 41.1, 41.8. 41. The 400s averaged 5:43.7 pace; the 200s 5:31 pace ... in some ways better than last night's workout.
I'm feeling pretty confident, after all.
But I'm not sure I ever laid down a mile race to the point of complete exhaustion at the finish line. The 4:28 came close, but I wasn't there. I wobbled on a little after finishing, then walked it off. What if I did it this time? Would it kill me?
Running is just an expression of who I am. The activity just got mixed in with some pretty heavy school bullying stuff when I got started in life, is all. I wish someone would have helped me. Some adult. (Actually, someone did. But I didn't know it at the time. Gary Freeman, fellow classmate, God Bless You.) But ultimately I am responsible for myself. Can't blame it on what others did or didn't do. It has taken me a long time to recognize my strengths and soul urges (and some of them I'd rather not have; you know, like that shadow stuff).
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Friday, March 9, 2018
Yesterday I ran two easy miles, and today I did an abbreviated workout at Planet Fitness, which will be it for today. The mile run is only four days away. All I have left to do is two easy miles tomorrow followed by 3x100 easy strides; a workout of my choice on Sunday; and what Ron calls an "easy mile shake-out run" on Monday. My friends David and Jeannie Dellar are coming to watch and photograph the event on Tuesday. I had a conversation with Jeannie and her sister Alison about my running focus. I called it a compulsion/addiction/fixation. They said it was "just you."
I agree with them, and me.
Later today, I am going to Windsor, Canada for the weekend.
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