I had truly forgotten what it was like to be a student-athlete until this past week. "Busy" would not begin to describe my plight. With a midterm paper, lab report, exam, and research, I literally had no time to myself. Couple all of those with practice and workouts, and you get one tired, out of shape 22 year old.
My allergies were icing on top of the cake. They kicked in on Monday, and six benadryl later, I'm feeling like a zombie. Still, my eyes itch, my nose is stuffy, and my legs are exhausted. This is going to be an interesting race.
On the positive side, my heat is set up perfectly for a great race, I'm running against a high school teammate, and I have a drove of fans for the first time, ever! BRING IT ON!
See you on the other side...
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Sunday, Cruddy Sunday
Sundays suck. There, I said it. There's not a day in the week I loathe more. The boredom is unbearable. Piles upon piles of homework have been put off until this magical day wherein I have absolutely nothing to do, and can therefore study!! But, that's not how it works. Instead, I procrastinate even more, switching from TV to computer in an endless game of what's the least boring thing I can do right now. In rare bursts of excitement, I have the TV on WHILE searching the web on my laptop... I know, crazy right?
But that's not all. Sundays are an end, but a new beginning. My head is brimming with post-race euphoria, but at the same time sowing the seeds of worries. Next weekend's race is already at the forefront of my mind, along with getting into shape and running a mark that would get me on the team bus! Ah, the endless cycle of a runner. The only true time I'm not nervous or preparing for my next race is Saturday afternoon.
I remember this feeling, and not surprisingly, it's one of the feelings I didn't miss. Minute layers of stress are woven thinly between my day to day activities, constantly in the fabric of my life. It's a rarity that I can be completely oblivious my nerves. However, I'm ready. I have never been this mentally prepared to take on and overcome an obstacle. I just wish my body was on the same page...
I'm officially a zombie. Well, either a zombie, or an old man. Standing up takes so much effort, and the shuffle to the toilet this morning nearly cost me a year of my life. I think my legs are plotting a mutiny...
So let's see... 68.9, 68.1, 65.3, 45.9. We went out slooooooooow. However, I'm not complaining. It just might have been the perfect race for me to test my engine. Our "blistering" 2:17 through the half felt smooth, and I got to experience some tactics. I also found out just how bad a mile hurts when you haven't adequately prepared for it. I raced way outside my training level. But that was just step one. Next week should be 2:10 through the half, and I hope to be around 4:02 for the 15!
But that's a week away. For now, there's a gaggle of research projects, papers, exams, and abstracts to attend to in order to keep my academic life from getting lapped. Then again, it is Sunday.... I'll probably just wait until tomorrow to start all that crap. Here's an awesome quote, instead.
EVERYONE should read the book "Once a Runner" by John L. Parker Jr.
"From the crucible of inner turmoil come the various metals, soft or brittle, flawed or pure, precious or common, that determine the good runners, the great runners, and perhaps the former runners...(and the great runner sits) there in the quiet tiled solace of the early afternoon locker room, knotting his loathsome-smelling laces for yet another, Jesus God, ten-miler with the boys. Once a runner..."- John L. Parker Jr.
But that's not all. Sundays are an end, but a new beginning. My head is brimming with post-race euphoria, but at the same time sowing the seeds of worries. Next weekend's race is already at the forefront of my mind, along with getting into shape and running a mark that would get me on the team bus! Ah, the endless cycle of a runner. The only true time I'm not nervous or preparing for my next race is Saturday afternoon.
I remember this feeling, and not surprisingly, it's one of the feelings I didn't miss. Minute layers of stress are woven thinly between my day to day activities, constantly in the fabric of my life. It's a rarity that I can be completely oblivious my nerves. However, I'm ready. I have never been this mentally prepared to take on and overcome an obstacle. I just wish my body was on the same page...
I'm officially a zombie. Well, either a zombie, or an old man. Standing up takes so much effort, and the shuffle to the toilet this morning nearly cost me a year of my life. I think my legs are plotting a mutiny...
So let's see... 68.9, 68.1, 65.3, 45.9. We went out slooooooooow. However, I'm not complaining. It just might have been the perfect race for me to test my engine. Our "blistering" 2:17 through the half felt smooth, and I got to experience some tactics. I also found out just how bad a mile hurts when you haven't adequately prepared for it. I raced way outside my training level. But that was just step one. Next week should be 2:10 through the half, and I hope to be around 4:02 for the 15!
But that's a week away. For now, there's a gaggle of research projects, papers, exams, and abstracts to attend to in order to keep my academic life from getting lapped. Then again, it is Sunday.... I'll probably just wait until tomorrow to start all that crap. Here's an awesome quote, instead.
EVERYONE should read the book "Once a Runner" by John L. Parker Jr.
"From the crucible of inner turmoil come the various metals, soft or brittle, flawed or pure, precious or common, that determine the good runners, the great runners, and perhaps the former runners...(and the great runner sits) there in the quiet tiled solace of the early afternoon locker room, knotting his loathsome-smelling laces for yet another, Jesus God, ten-miler with the boys. Once a runner..."- John L. Parker Jr.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Per Diem
It's been such a long time. So many seemingly pointless miles through the trails. So many stifling 90+ degree summer days, humidity bearing down. So many more sub-freezing days, where there was always a possibility of losing an extremity. Even more hours spent cycling away, confined by the walls of not only the training room, but the barriers erected in my mind walling off any hope of reaching my goals. I've biked like a maniac for 90+ minutes with only an iPod and the occasional text message. I've cruised through rec-center days on the elliptical, solely focused on the 3x3 screen constantly blurred by the drips of sweat falling from my hair. I've even swam, miles upon miles back and forth in the pool, with thoughts and burning desires swimming freely through my mind. It's been such a long time.
Retribution. Today on the track was retribution; a per diem of sorts for all my miserable, painful, and generally forlorn days fighting to keep my dream alive, when so many had long since given up hope. After so many hours chipping away at the formidable fortress constructed to keep me from my goals, I've finally broken through! Let the trumpets sound! No one in the entire nation is as happy as I am to complete 3 and 3/4 laps around a track in a meager 4:08.2, but that's their problem. Today I am reveling in the payoff to all the effort spent, days wasted, and lifestyle amended. Simply put, I raced my ass off today.
Although I didn't set the track on fire today, a 4:08.2 after ~3 weeks of running is in no way disappointing to me. Three weeks ago I ran 15 miles, with constant soreness in my hip. Two weeks ago I ran 30, with an eye-opening 3-2-1 fartlek. Last week was a set of quarters in 66, and a total of 40 miles. To go out today and run a 4:08 is nothing short of astounding. In truth, it was frustration that trumped fitness, and the slow heat at the MU RELAYS had no chance to respond :)
However, I'm exhausted, and even the small task of typing has somehow drained me even more. Time for some final four action and a night on the town with one of the greatest guys I've ever met. Life couldn't be better.
Today, after three years of soul searching, I remembered why running is fun. Carpe Diem.
Retribution. Today on the track was retribution; a per diem of sorts for all my miserable, painful, and generally forlorn days fighting to keep my dream alive, when so many had long since given up hope. After so many hours chipping away at the formidable fortress constructed to keep me from my goals, I've finally broken through! Let the trumpets sound! No one in the entire nation is as happy as I am to complete 3 and 3/4 laps around a track in a meager 4:08.2, but that's their problem. Today I am reveling in the payoff to all the effort spent, days wasted, and lifestyle amended. Simply put, I raced my ass off today.
Although I didn't set the track on fire today, a 4:08.2 after ~3 weeks of running is in no way disappointing to me. Three weeks ago I ran 15 miles, with constant soreness in my hip. Two weeks ago I ran 30, with an eye-opening 3-2-1 fartlek. Last week was a set of quarters in 66, and a total of 40 miles. To go out today and run a 4:08 is nothing short of astounding. In truth, it was frustration that trumped fitness, and the slow heat at the MU RELAYS had no chance to respond :)
However, I'm exhausted, and even the small task of typing has somehow drained me even more. Time for some final four action and a night on the town with one of the greatest guys I've ever met. Life couldn't be better.
Today, after three years of soul searching, I remembered why running is fun. Carpe Diem.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Pre-Race Jitters
Dear anyone in the universe... Can you please tell me why even a simple race, wherein I have NO expectations, against no one I know, and with little to no prior training can be so ridiculously nerve-racking!!!
Although it's 9:30, I felt I should at least put that down on the blog. Now I have to sleep... I'm too nervous for descriptive descriptions. See :/
I'll be sure to write more post-race.
WISH ME LUCK!! (sub 4:10 I hope!!)
Although it's 9:30, I felt I should at least put that down on the blog. Now I have to sleep... I'm too nervous for descriptive descriptions. See :/
I'll be sure to write more post-race.
WISH ME LUCK!! (sub 4:10 I hope!!)
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Spring Broke
Today, as I sat idly by watching my millionth college basketball game of the year, my girlfriend and nearly everyone else I know have just arrived in Panama City, FL. I was supposed to be on that trip.
Ah, yes, the pristine beaches, 80 degree weather, and a week of being a bum is nearly the greatest thing I could think to be doing at the moment. However, as my track coach has almost certainly read a chapter or two of Mein Kampf in the recent months, I could not make the trek for fear of being kicked off the team. The numbers are thinning, as 9 of my teammates have been extradited from the team just this past Monday. I therefore reasoned that my absence on the first day of practice this coming Wednesday would no doubt be the end of my career.
Thus, I am currently sitting in my basement post 8 mile adventure run in the snowy tundra of mid-Missouri eating a large plate of pasta, staring at my computer screen, and praying to all manner of deities that Kansas gets upset by VCU today. GO RAMS!!
On that note, this will be a short and unorthodox post, but I'll leave you (haha like anyone reads this thing) with a picture that epitomizes what Spring Break 2011 in Columbia Missouri is all about!
Thank god I get to run this Saturday!
Ah, yes, the pristine beaches, 80 degree weather, and a week of being a bum is nearly the greatest thing I could think to be doing at the moment. However, as my track coach has almost certainly read a chapter or two of Mein Kampf in the recent months, I could not make the trek for fear of being kicked off the team. The numbers are thinning, as 9 of my teammates have been extradited from the team just this past Monday. I therefore reasoned that my absence on the first day of practice this coming Wednesday would no doubt be the end of my career.
Thus, I am currently sitting in my basement post 8 mile adventure run in the snowy tundra of mid-Missouri eating a large plate of pasta, staring at my computer screen, and praying to all manner of deities that Kansas gets upset by VCU today. GO RAMS!!
On that note, this will be a short and unorthodox post, but I'll leave you (haha like anyone reads this thing) with a picture that epitomizes what Spring Break 2011 in Columbia Missouri is all about!
Thank god I get to run this Saturday!
Saturday, March 26, 2011
If at first you don't succeed...
Words cannot describe the elation I felt yesterday at track practice. I crossed the boundary into my former life, if only for a moment, as I cruised around the tartan loop. I felt the lightness of a sit-and-kick specialist, waiting in the pack to devour the unsuspecting rabbits. I smelled the sweat as it trickled over the corners of my eyes, unabated by a wipe of my hands, as energy efficiency was top priority. I tasted the blood in the back of my throat, as breathing became raspy in the chilly March air. I sunk into nostalgia, as my legs cycled at an up-tempo clip, propelling my nearly pain free body around my favorite place in the universe. For a minute there, I was back!
And what a feeling it was! Quarters never felt so good! However, what is this lactic acid crap? It's been so long since I've felt it's burn on the first turn of each successive interval, but it was, in an odd, sadistic way, a comfort. I'm back down the long, arduous training path of the competitive miler, and right now, I feel on top of the world. Although my quarters were only run at around 66 second pace with a 3 min. rest in between, I warn my miler brethren, I'm coming for you.
My last post delineated all the troubles I've been having finding the desire to move forward, but that mindset is in the past. I now balance a tight rope of personal expectations and exciting prospects, with a pit of unsuspecting injuries, setbacks, obstacles, and probably a few poison-tipped spikes looming underneath. The fall will be the worst I've experienced, and most likely the last I can handle, but for now the rope is taut, and I plan to continue my journey, one step at a time, to the other side. Progression is all that I know, and a set back is not in my vocabulary.
But, as Missouri has been relentless this year at fueling and reinforcing depression, I'll have to wait until the freak spring break blizzard is over to run my 4 mile recovery run. It seems that 90% of the time I write in this blog, it's snowing or freezing. I hope the trend doesn't continue, as I don't plan on resting my fingers til the journey of my outdoor season is over.
I race one week from today. 7 days until I don that Missouri track singlet I've yearned so passionately to adorn for the past 3 years. That's 1,095 days. According to my running log, that's 5,723.5 miles! March 2008, I was a freshman, Brett Farve was just retiring (from Green Bay), Stephen Curry was tearing up the tourney in his Davidson uni, and George Bush was president! Surprisingly, gas was still the same price.... hmmm.
But in 7 days I'll traverse that unyielding oval four glorious, painful times, banking on pure guts and heart to stay with the pack, dig in deep, and kick desperately for a finish line I've longed so long to cross. However, I am completely aware that no world records will be broken, and I would be more than content to clock a 4:15 in my upcoming 1500. Anything to get a baseline value, where the only way to go is up. I love beginnings, and in a mere week, my new life as track athlete be born.
"The only race pace is suicide pace, and today feels like a good day to die" -Steve Prefontaine
And what a feeling it was! Quarters never felt so good! However, what is this lactic acid crap? It's been so long since I've felt it's burn on the first turn of each successive interval, but it was, in an odd, sadistic way, a comfort. I'm back down the long, arduous training path of the competitive miler, and right now, I feel on top of the world. Although my quarters were only run at around 66 second pace with a 3 min. rest in between, I warn my miler brethren, I'm coming for you.
My last post delineated all the troubles I've been having finding the desire to move forward, but that mindset is in the past. I now balance a tight rope of personal expectations and exciting prospects, with a pit of unsuspecting injuries, setbacks, obstacles, and probably a few poison-tipped spikes looming underneath. The fall will be the worst I've experienced, and most likely the last I can handle, but for now the rope is taut, and I plan to continue my journey, one step at a time, to the other side. Progression is all that I know, and a set back is not in my vocabulary.
But, as Missouri has been relentless this year at fueling and reinforcing depression, I'll have to wait until the freak spring break blizzard is over to run my 4 mile recovery run. It seems that 90% of the time I write in this blog, it's snowing or freezing. I hope the trend doesn't continue, as I don't plan on resting my fingers til the journey of my outdoor season is over.
I race one week from today. 7 days until I don that Missouri track singlet I've yearned so passionately to adorn for the past 3 years. That's 1,095 days. According to my running log, that's 5,723.5 miles! March 2008, I was a freshman, Brett Farve was just retiring (from Green Bay), Stephen Curry was tearing up the tourney in his Davidson uni, and George Bush was president! Surprisingly, gas was still the same price.... hmmm.
But in 7 days I'll traverse that unyielding oval four glorious, painful times, banking on pure guts and heart to stay with the pack, dig in deep, and kick desperately for a finish line I've longed so long to cross. However, I am completely aware that no world records will be broken, and I would be more than content to clock a 4:15 in my upcoming 1500. Anything to get a baseline value, where the only way to go is up. I love beginnings, and in a mere week, my new life as track athlete be born.
"The only race pace is suicide pace, and today feels like a good day to die" -Steve Prefontaine
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Ten things I hate about me:
It's been so long since I've looked in the mirror and really thought about who I was, or how I want to define my life. Previous stages of my life simply melted together, faded quietly, or simply ended with a new beginning, but now as I the blinders are slowly being removed from my eyes, I can't really figure out how or what I'm supposed to feel. A concept larger than just losing running is dawning upon me; I am no longer an athlete. No doubt, countless others have dealt with this same realization, but instead of the injury filled frustration that has become my existence, they most likely have chosen to quit, embarking on life's bigger quests, such as college's laundry list of temptations. However, I've never been one to take the easy route, and my crutch and sole motivation in life has laid in the self-bettering pursuit of athletics. Nothing gives me more courage, more self-confidence, and more joy than training to the edge of exhaustion and pushing my body through limits only few have experienced. I love what I do, and being an athlete is who I am. Well, it was...
Now I am deprived of the only thing I truly loved. I can't run. I can't get into shape. I can't stay motivated, as the goal of becoming an all big twelve athlete is becoming almost invisible, clouded in a fog of bad luck and unfortunate occurrences. The dream is elusive, and bordering on impossible. Yet still I yearn for the day when a 14 mile run was possible, and every day it eats away at my soul, bit by bit, and only a true runner can understand the final outcome of perpetual steps in one direction. Just as the bits of rubber slowly eroded from the soles of the 70 mile a week runner I once was, the bits of desire and motivation are being eroded from my brain. Day by day, setback by setback. I hate the fact that one day I will have lost the determination to be a runner, and on that day I fear I will lack the motivation to do anything else.
I fear the inevitable is closer than ever, and I want to fight it. I make lists of weight lifting routines, swimming and biking schedules,... hell my background on my computer right now is a comeback schedule for running. However, it only seems to take a day or two for me to deviate from my lists. I can't follow along. I can't push myself. I don't have a reason anymore.
It's so sad to admit that I hate the person I am, but the worst part is I have no way to escape this imprisonment. I see what I want to be, I see how to do it, and then as soon as a window of opportunity is open and the goal seems obtainable, an obstacle emerges to knock me back down to ground zero. I've been so close so many times, but now I'm further away than ever. I can't help but ask the question, "Is it worth it,...again."
But I'm not totally done yet. Giving up doesn't come easily. I just need some warm weather to reenergize my agonizing bones. I want to be a runner. I am one at heart.
Now I am deprived of the only thing I truly loved. I can't run. I can't get into shape. I can't stay motivated, as the goal of becoming an all big twelve athlete is becoming almost invisible, clouded in a fog of bad luck and unfortunate occurrences. The dream is elusive, and bordering on impossible. Yet still I yearn for the day when a 14 mile run was possible, and every day it eats away at my soul, bit by bit, and only a true runner can understand the final outcome of perpetual steps in one direction. Just as the bits of rubber slowly eroded from the soles of the 70 mile a week runner I once was, the bits of desire and motivation are being eroded from my brain. Day by day, setback by setback. I hate the fact that one day I will have lost the determination to be a runner, and on that day I fear I will lack the motivation to do anything else.
I fear the inevitable is closer than ever, and I want to fight it. I make lists of weight lifting routines, swimming and biking schedules,... hell my background on my computer right now is a comeback schedule for running. However, it only seems to take a day or two for me to deviate from my lists. I can't follow along. I can't push myself. I don't have a reason anymore.
It's so sad to admit that I hate the person I am, but the worst part is I have no way to escape this imprisonment. I see what I want to be, I see how to do it, and then as soon as a window of opportunity is open and the goal seems obtainable, an obstacle emerges to knock me back down to ground zero. I've been so close so many times, but now I'm further away than ever. I can't help but ask the question, "Is it worth it,...again."
But I'm not totally done yet. Giving up doesn't come easily. I just need some warm weather to reenergize my agonizing bones. I want to be a runner. I am one at heart.
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