Very rarely do things go according to plans. Like this winter’s training.
At the beginning of the year, I vowed that the coming months of running would be different from my sporadic bouts of running last winter. While I can say I have been pretty good at getting my miles in, they have definitely not been in the way I would have preferred.
For starters, mileage logged on the treadmill far surpasses the miles logged outside. I didn’t think this winter could tops last year, but I proved wrong. Several of our weekday workouts had to be cancelled due to ice and snow, leaving me to do speed and incline indoors. On days when it wasn’t cancelled, temperatures still hovered dangerously low; one of the few runs to go on as scheduled took place in the coldest conditions of (unofficial) Fleet Feet training history. Although I loathe the treadmill, my preference to retain feeling in my feet, fingers and nose convinced me that any evening workouts scheduled for sub-20 degree temperatures would be done indoors with a post-it note dictating my intervals (and subsequent looks from neighboring runners confused by my high speed sprints and constant adjustments to the incline).
When you spend upwards of two to three hours with people moving on your feet, you have a lot of time to talk. About everything.
Like last Saturday’s long run, for example. As I headed out among the faster crew for our 10-mile run, the conversation began with my discovery that father-daughter dances are still a thing. I could have sworn political correctness killed them just a few years after my own dances with my dad years ago. Continue reading
Confession: I did not miss Saturday alarms. But alas, all good things must come to an end, and this past-Saturday, my mornings of alarm-free wake ups ended.
Set to jolt me out of bed at 7:25 AM, my alarm buzzed for the first Saturday in more than two months. Despite being set for an hour later than for my summer SLRs, I still scoffed at knowing that I had to uncover the sheets be out the door before 8 AM.
Yet, the alarm signaled a revival and reunion. A revival of my training, my re-commitment to running and my reunion with the Fleet Feet running crew. Decked out in my MCM gear and pumped by a Taylor Swift-dominated playlist, I ran the 1.5 mile route to the running store to launch into the first workout in training for the D.C. Rock N’ Roll half marathon. Continue reading