Wednesday evening: After a 12 hour day at school with both classes and parent-teacher conferences, I decided to leave my car at school and run the 13 miles home at 8 pm. I've found it's a remarkable way to clear my head after a full day in the classroom. Now that I've gotten home (10 pm), I also realize it will be a great incentive to run back in just 8 hours, as I don't have much choice in the matter with my car there now. Favorite moment running back tonight? Passing a digital "Your Speed" display built into a speed limit sign. The sign clocks drivers speeds as they go through the 40 m.p.h. zone. "45" - "48" - "42" - "6" ... At first, I thought it was a speed gun glitch but then I realized who it was clocking. Classic.
Thursday morning: I was a little late in leaving for school, 6:10 instead of my preferred 5:45 AM. Worrying about getting there in time, I picked up the pace and ran much faster than I'm currently used to. I sped up throughout the morning from my typical 10 minute miles down to 7:15. I knew I'd pay for that later and was suddenly reminded about a training tip I learned in high school cross-country: never increase more than one area of running at a time, be it mileage, hill work, or pace. Let's see, I'm upping my mileage this week into hundred-plus range for the first time since last summer. While stressing about a hilly 50-mile ultra next month, I set my treadmill to incline on Tuesday, and then found myself in a near 10k pace Thursday morning. I had planned to repeat the half-marathon trek both Thursday afternoon and Friday morning, but was starting to feel the accumulated mileage. Perhaps I should have followed the coach's advice.
Thursday afternoon: Running in rush hour traffic is like trying to swim across the room at a packed party, vying for the Chex Mix without bumping into anyone with a full beverage. The only difference is these party-goers had come dressed in their 2,000 pound metal suits and I hardly stood a chance against a casual bump with one of them. I'm keenly aware of this though and never assume a driver will give me the right of way unless I make eye contact and get some signal to proceed. As I ran through the Arizona State University campus this reality became crystal clear. I was approaching a crosswalk and the white pedestrian lit up, promising me safe passage across the 4-lane side street. Just as I neared the curb, a two-door sports car came careening towards me, planning on making a 20 mile per hour right hand turn through the red light, only slowing enough to measure the length of my running shorts as I flew into the windshield, that is, if I hadn't stopped first to see if they would allow me to safely pass. A mile later, an SUV packed with college guys rolled down a window and a guy whose appearance matches what one might conjure up from the name "Chet" or "Jay" yelled to me with outstretched hand, "Hey man, you want some chips?" If I hadn't tanked up on a half-dozen doughnuts from a teacher appreciation breakfast and two ice cream sandwiches from a passing Circle K, I might have taken him up on it.
Friday morning: After my accelerated effort yesterday, I was determined to allow more time today. Lydia offered to drive me to work, as she could tell I was wearing down a bit, but driving was out of the question. If anything, I may have been tempted to bike to school, but then how does one compute the mileage? If I biked then I'd have to still run later, and that didn't make sense to me. So I headed out at 5:45 and enjoyed taking in all of the sights displayed by a major city waking at sunrise. There's been a man asleep in the hedges next to the ASU track each morning. He was in the same exact position as yesterday. His head is pretty well nestled in the root of a tall Japanese hedge and his torso and legs stick out in plain sight. I wondered if he might be dead but decided he was close enough to the sidewalk that someone would have called it in if he was there all day long. Since there's not much cover, it makes me wonder if he considers this little head nook space his bedroom. If so, how many nights has he been laying down there and why does he prefer that spot, as opposed to some more concealed location such as a bridge or grove of shrubs? There's a piece of poetic graffiti on an electrical box which reads, "What is human?" I ran past the Tempe office of Senator John McCain, located in a quiet neighborhood lake region of town. And when I arrive at school, some of my students who have been dropped off early are outside the gate, waiting for campus to open. Feeling a little self-conscious about mixing my dual lifestyle as a teacher clad in short-shorts, I try to run across the parking lot but then also remember the school rule about no running in the parking lot and force myself down to a sweaty walk. "No walking, Mr. Stark!" the students shout, "Keep going!" So I run up to the group and give high fives all around. 52 miles in two days. Driving home was awesome and the digital speed limit sign? "45".
Thursday morning: I was a little late in leaving for school, 6:10 instead of my preferred 5:45 AM. Worrying about getting there in time, I picked up the pace and ran much faster than I'm currently used to. I sped up throughout the morning from my typical 10 minute miles down to 7:15. I knew I'd pay for that later and was suddenly reminded about a training tip I learned in high school cross-country: never increase more than one area of running at a time, be it mileage, hill work, or pace. Let's see, I'm upping my mileage this week into hundred-plus range for the first time since last summer. While stressing about a hilly 50-mile ultra next month, I set my treadmill to incline on Tuesday, and then found myself in a near 10k pace Thursday morning. I had planned to repeat the half-marathon trek both Thursday afternoon and Friday morning, but was starting to feel the accumulated mileage. Perhaps I should have followed the coach's advice.
Thursday afternoon: Running in rush hour traffic is like trying to swim across the room at a packed party, vying for the Chex Mix without bumping into anyone with a full beverage. The only difference is these party-goers had come dressed in their 2,000 pound metal suits and I hardly stood a chance against a casual bump with one of them. I'm keenly aware of this though and never assume a driver will give me the right of way unless I make eye contact and get some signal to proceed. As I ran through the Arizona State University campus this reality became crystal clear. I was approaching a crosswalk and the white pedestrian lit up, promising me safe passage across the 4-lane side street. Just as I neared the curb, a two-door sports car came careening towards me, planning on making a 20 mile per hour right hand turn through the red light, only slowing enough to measure the length of my running shorts as I flew into the windshield, that is, if I hadn't stopped first to see if they would allow me to safely pass. A mile later, an SUV packed with college guys rolled down a window and a guy whose appearance matches what one might conjure up from the name "Chet" or "Jay" yelled to me with outstretched hand, "Hey man, you want some chips?" If I hadn't tanked up on a half-dozen doughnuts from a teacher appreciation breakfast and two ice cream sandwiches from a passing Circle K, I might have taken him up on it.
Friday morning: After my accelerated effort yesterday, I was determined to allow more time today. Lydia offered to drive me to work, as she could tell I was wearing down a bit, but driving was out of the question. If anything, I may have been tempted to bike to school, but then how does one compute the mileage? If I biked then I'd have to still run later, and that didn't make sense to me. So I headed out at 5:45 and enjoyed taking in all of the sights displayed by a major city waking at sunrise. There's been a man asleep in the hedges next to the ASU track each morning. He was in the same exact position as yesterday. His head is pretty well nestled in the root of a tall Japanese hedge and his torso and legs stick out in plain sight. I wondered if he might be dead but decided he was close enough to the sidewalk that someone would have called it in if he was there all day long. Since there's not much cover, it makes me wonder if he considers this little head nook space his bedroom. If so, how many nights has he been laying down there and why does he prefer that spot, as opposed to some more concealed location such as a bridge or grove of shrubs? There's a piece of poetic graffiti on an electrical box which reads, "What is human?" I ran past the Tempe office of Senator John McCain, located in a quiet neighborhood lake region of town. And when I arrive at school, some of my students who have been dropped off early are outside the gate, waiting for campus to open. Feeling a little self-conscious about mixing my dual lifestyle as a teacher clad in short-shorts, I try to run across the parking lot but then also remember the school rule about no running in the parking lot and force myself down to a sweaty walk. "No walking, Mr. Stark!" the students shout, "Keep going!" So I run up to the group and give high fives all around. 52 miles in two days. Driving home was awesome and the digital speed limit sign? "45".
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