So the guy who doesn’t like to run, is tapering this week for his second race of the year, although I can’t really call this a race. The Tough Mudder idea was conceived by Sherri, and Angela in the fall of last year as a way for a group of us from Fat Camp to reunite.
Originally the group who were supposed to meet up comprised almost everyone from Van 5, but as the months have gone on, people have backed out for various reasons, it sucks that I won’t get to see everyone, but I am excited to see those of us who have committed to the race.
Tough Mudder isn’t the first obstacle driven race to appear in the market, but it is by far the largest and most successful. I received an e-mail this week with a .pdf of start times, and it was 260 pages long.
As described by the Tough Mudder website “Tough Mudder events are hardcore 10-12 mile obstacle courses designed by British Special Forces to test your all around strength, stamina, mental grit, and camaraderie. With the most innovative courses, half a million inspiring participants, and more than $2 million dollars raised for the Wounded Warrior Project, Tough Mudder is the premier adventure challenge series in the world.”
Part of each course has the following for sure when it comes to obstacles, a dumpster that you dive in filled with ice, a series of electrically charged wires you have to run through, and an awesome ramp that you have to run up which is slippery. I also think each course has a set of monkey bars that goes uphill, and then back downhill.
After the Rare 10K, I don’t have any fear or anxiety, but I’m also not really looking forward to the race. Who knows afterwards, I might be one of those silly bastards who gets a Tough Mudder tattoo on his ass. We have an 11:20 start time, with a temperature of 58 degress, I'm excited...
This is going to be a tough week, because I have to start to taper, and according to the Rare 10K taper schedule I’m not supposed to WoD starting today. I already did the WoD this morning, and plan to go to barbell club tonight. Then the rest of the week will involve going to WoDs to do the warm-up and mobility, then calling it a day.
Struggled on last rep of 235 lbs, but I think I could have done 235 lbs for two sets if not all three.
Metcon:
3 Rounds
1 minute push press 75 lbs
1 minute sit ups
1 minute Russian Kettlebell Swing 70 lbs
No rest Between Rounds
My rounds went like this:
Round 1: 40 - 30 - 30 = 100
Round 2: 32 - 26 - 31 = 89
Round 3: 27 - 25 - 31 = 83
Total Score: 272
At the end I wondered if I had put down the barbell or kettlebell during the 1 minute of work in the second and third round, could I have gotten more rests by allowing my grip and my muscles to recover for a moment, and then explosivley continuing, instead of just pushing through like I normally do...I'm not sure the next time I see a WoD like this I'm going to try that in one of the later working rounds.
Three months ago, if I had seen that number on the scale I would have done cartwheels, thrown a party, or perhaps even done something crazy like send Michelle Bachman a check because even a big heaping pile of dog shit needs a small ray of sunlight.
In any case I woke up Friday morning, and decided for shits and giggles to get on the scale, this once daily routine hadn’t been done in about 2 weeks. When I got on I was fully prepared to still weigh 240-243.
I was surprised, but to be perfectly honest I got off the scale thinking, oh well, that’s nice, what am I going to eat for breakfast?
I was thinking about how strange that the guy, who once weighed himself daily, was not emotionally attached to the number on the scale. I still think the scale serves an important tool when someone is trying to move away from being obese, but it’s only part of a bigger picture.
The only way my weight is going to bother me is if, it effects my ability to get my mile time below 6 minutes, or snatch 155 lbs, or do unassisted pull-ups. My weight is only a factor in how it relates to my ability to do specific physical tasks.
Yes Rybear, I have changed the lens that I use to view fitness.
There’s really not much more to say, the goals I have set before me are more important than how much I weigh, a year ago, the weight would have been the only goal that I had, I’m not sure when this transition started, but it’s happened and here I am…
Regionals.
I wish I had some prophetic words to write, but I’m still hungover from the amount of Tequila that I consumed on Saturday, and have only four things to share.
First, watching people I know work their asses off in front of a large crowd of meatheads, was pretty fucking cool. I have to give out mad love and respect to all the participants at Regionals from PCF. The workouts which seemed impossible the day after they were posted, did not get the better of anyone from PCF, it just goes to show that competition brings out the best in everyone.
Second, Officially on May 5th 2012, the sport of Tailgating at CrossFit events has begun; in no small part to…me. Thanks for everyone who came out, it was fun, and check out the link below, RJP.com filmed, submitted, and was on the games mainsite within an hour.
Third, Erika Moburg-Jones, who is by far my favorite coach at Patriot performed phenomenally well, she made it through five events, and placed 26th in the region. She is also 4 months pregnant. Way to kick ass this weekend, and continue to redefine what being a woman in 2012 is all about, as a prophetic t-shirt once quoted “Hot Chicks Lift Heavy”.
Fourth, I want to confess that I have developed a crush on a games competitor, Gretchen Kittleberger. A former gymnast who is becoming an elite-elite CrossFitter, is very cute, and very strong. She is also one of the 3 women from the Mid-Atlantic going to “The Games”.
Did I mention she’s really cute, I keep getting this image of a panda, cute until you piss it off, and it rips your fucking face off…is it strange that I want to make out with a panda? Or that somehow the fact that she snatches 25 more pounds than me is attractive. I am going to start a GK fan club for the games.
So I have a confession, one which is embarrassing as hell, yet I somehow have to let it be known because my personal workout integrity is being affected. I have to begin by saying that I have a relatively high pain threshold, to some degree I think I enjoy the “pain cave”, and find working through pain to be something of a masochistic accomplishment.
Which brings me back to my confession…this morning at CFE we had the last tempo run of the month, the prescribed workout for the short course, was a 50 minute run at 85% effort on a trail which starts and ends at Wakefield Park, with a big loop around Lake Accotink. I was ready to run this course, over the last two years I’ve walked the loop around the lake a half dozen times with my dog, and each time I walked it, I recall thinking, it would be a an accomplishment if one day I could run around the lake.
As we warmed up, I was actually getting excited at the prospect of completing something which a year earlier would have seemed impossible, my plan was to make this course succumb to my will, I’m Superfly, and the trail was one of my bitches.
From the start of the run I could feel that my legs were sore from the WoD the day before, and my left ankle felt tender, but as the temperature of my body started to rise I could feel the soreness and the pain starting to subside. The discomfort fading away helped to bolster my confidence in this run.
In a short period of time, I reached the point where the Wakefield Park trail connected to the Lake Accotink loop. It is also at where, something deep inside of my body started to feel strange.
It was like something was starting to move in my lower bowels. I ignored it and continued to run, but every so often I would feel what felt like a karate kick to my guts. With each ensuing kick I could feel my pace getting slower, and the impact of the “pain” was becoming more intense.
Kevin N. was directly in front of me, and I tend to use him as my pace car, on this particular day I wasn’t going to be able to keep up with him, I watched him increase the distance between us and could do nothing to close the gap.
I continued to run even after I lost sight of Kevin completely. It was tough to focus on just running without the competitive fuel of chasing someone, so my mind started to wander, at first I thought about whether or not my pace was truly 85%, but it quickly transitioned into, “what if the pain gets worse?”
I encountered my first small hill I quickly increased my cadence smoothly getting up the incline, then I ran down the hill, almost reaching a sprint, it was after this decline that I my stomach pains were clearly defined, it was by far the most intense “feeling” of having to poop I’ve ever felt.
I immediately stopped running, and started to walk…problem solved, or so I thought…
As I walked the feeling would go away, and it made me think I could get to either the marina or the get back to the trailhead where there are public bathrooms, I reached a point on the trail where it was almost the same distance to either.
I made the decision that the marina was slightly closer so I would run to the marina, I started to run again.
I felt okay…
The only thought I had in my mind was make it to the marina. During the initial few minutes of running I didn’t have much of an urge to “poop”, but long after running, the “feeling” came back. At this point I saw a place that I might be able to hide and relieve myself. There was a small trail that broke off of the main trail which traveled below a small hill.
I thought this might be a good place to conceal myself and poop.
I started to relax a bit, and the sense of impending relief was fantastic…then I reached the end of this diverting trail, and there was a bench with people sitting at it.
FUCK!
I turned around, and headed up the side of the hill, when I saw Tricia, she said something to me which my brain could not process as all motor function was being used to keep the “poop” inside my body, so I just responded to her with a “I got Lost”. I let her pass me, and I jogged in place for a bit, to make sure that she created distance between us.
I had to stop and walk…The walking helped to settle my stomach, and I truly felt like I could make it to the marina. It is here where my neurotic Asian brain took over, and I started to think, if I walk to the Marina, and then have to walk or run back to the starting point, I won’t get back in time.
So after a few minutes of hesitation, and inner agony, I turned around started walking back towards the trailhead at Wakefield Park.
I walked for a good 10 minutes in the direction of the trailhead without much thought…then the feeling of impending doom hit me.
It was like the rain waters were raising, and the levy was ready to break. I started to look around for any remotely private place where I could get off the trail and get this evil out of me. As I looked around there was nothing even close to private all that surrounded me was the open backyard of neighborhood that borders Lake Accotink, and a 10’ buffer between the trail and the lake.
I then remembered a stretch of trail which was 400 meters behind me where the buffer was thick, really thick. I turned around, walked, jogged, ran, and waddled back to this area. When I reached this short bit of trail I looked towards the lake, it was thick with brush, so I started to walk towards the lake, and then I saw this giant tree which had fallen and uprooted a large portion of its roots, along with the soil connected to it.
If I hadn’t seen this while on the trail, then getting behind it would almost ensure no one would see me taking a poop.
The perfect place.
I walked back and huddled behind this tree, which was going to be my salvation. Behind this large mound of dirt I knew in a squatting position that my head was well below the top of the mound.
Funny thing about pooping in the woods, it’s hard to try and direct your butt in a way that will cause you to miss your shorts. I ultimately used my fallen buddy as support and stuck my ass out as far as I could.
I took care of business. It was like a carpet bombing mission, in and out.
As soon as I was done I pulled up my shorts, and walked back to the trail, you might say I skipped back to the trail.
When I stepped back onto the trail, I was done. I felt like…well crap.
I felt dirty, and humiliated to some degree, and lost all motivation to run. I looked at my watch, and realized it was time to just head back to Wakefield Park. I tried a few times to start running again, but my body was ice cold, and the motivation to run was lost. It’s a strange feeling that I can only describe as going limp…not that I know what that’s like…(really at this point, I just told you that I pooped myself in the woods, there isn’t much I’m ashamed about).
As I walked back to the trailhead, having lost anything that resembles pride, I started to see the fast runners making their second loops, when I saw them, they’d inevitably ask “Are you ok?”, and I lied and said “my ankles tweaked!”
When I got back to the trailhead, with my pride between my legs, I sat down mainly from the exhaustion of stress, and also because I was just deflated.
Tes was feeling around on my ankle to help remedy the injury, just so we’re clear I do have pain in my ankle, it’s from a week ago, it causes me pain, but nothing I can grin and bare to keep working. As Tes’s was feeling around, I kept maneuver my body to try and conceal any possible odor.
She eventually gave me a lacrosse ball, and I found that I have tightness on the outside of my shin, it hurts, it sucks, but it wasn’t the reason I didn’t finish the run, I didn’t finish the run because I didn’t prepare.
I made this confession to Kevin later during the day, and he told me that it happens. I told another friend of mine who’s a runner and he told me when he was running the Marine Corps Marathon, that as soon as people reached a point where there were no more spectators that it was like a poop fest. Not much solace, but I don’t feel as dirty about the situation now.
When I got home after the run, I took a shower, and I felt like Superman, which is why I went back to PCF and did the 11 AM WoD.
Sam Poueu, once told me to give it my best everyday, and not to expect things to be the same from workout to workout because your best is different everyday. This was later reinforced by Ian, who told me that your ability to “output” varies, and just because you have expectations of doing something well one day, it doesn’t mean you’ll achieve that place another day.
I wrote not all that long ago, that I was starting to drift into a meathead vortex and that I was focusing too much attention on the weights I was working with, and using other people’s workload to determine how heavy I should work. I’ve tried to stay within myself, but it can be tough, when someone of a similar ability starts to surpass your own.
Progress I am learning in CrossFit is nonlinear.
There is clearly an ebb and flow to when you make improvements, or advance in abilities, or make strength improvements. This ever changing current of improvement becomes exponentially more frustrating when dealing with something that is technically difficult like the snatch.
Beyond the fact that I love to just talk about “snatches” with woman I barely know, I think this particular Olympic Lift is just fucking cool. It to me exemplifies the speed, power, and strength of a well conditioning human body, it’s like a golf swing, where you have to prepare with mental and physical cues, yet in the actual motion, you have to grip it and rip it.
It is by far my favorite OlyLift, and I feel that my improvement curve from completely uniformed to newbie was sharp, but in trying to improve to the next level, it again is like the improvement arc of a golf swing. I can fucking hit the ball straight 3 or 4 times, then I slice the crap out of the ball enough to hit the guy in front of me.
Rewind to three months ago, I snatched 135 lbs for the first time. I remember doing it, thinking “FUCK YEAH, I AM FUCKING KING KONG, 185 lbs hear I come.” Fast forward to this morning, and I’m still struggling with 135 lbs.
My issue is clear, and it’s obvious.
I am overstepping my ability, by not taking into consideration how I feel on a particular day. Out of the days that I’ve snatched in the last 3 months, I think only 3 or 4 of them I felt 100%, who gives a shit why, the point is 135 lbs is close to my 1 rpm, and I keep pushing myself to hit this number under less than ideal circumstances.
In hindsight, I probably would already be swinging 135 lbs like a big dick, if I’d just taken a step back, and focused more on snatching 115 lbs and 125 lbs to perfection, at these weights I can snatch confidently, and do a relatively high volume of reps. If I had spent more time improving technique at weights which I am confident I am sure that 135 lbs would be less of an issue, and that I would sustain my form better.
This morning was a perfect example of my irrational thought process and working outside of myself, it is to me now the “EPIC FAIL”.
I showed up to the 6:30 AM WoD after I did the 4:30 PM WoD the day before. I got a good nights rest, but during the warm-up this morning I had a couple of moments of lightheadedness, it could be that I didn’t eat enough the yesterday, or I need electrolytes, or I’m dehydrated, it doesn’t matter the cause, at to this “weakness” an ankle that I tweaked getting out of my car on Monday, and any rational person would have said, hey let’s step back and work on our form today.
I am not a rational person.
From the moment I read the WoD last night I was determined to do 4 sets of 3 at 135 lbs. It was fucking stupid of me to think that I could do that without assessing where I was the morning of the WoD.
As I warmed up I progressed from the bar to 95 lbs, to 115 lbs, to 135 lbs. At 115 lbs, I should have taken a deep breath, and asked myself am I on today?
Even at 95 lbs this morning, I had a couple of moments of lightheadedness, but as I always do I continued to grind.
Ultimately, my work ended up suffering. I did 2 sets of 3 at 135 lbs, and one set of 2. Then I finally realized that I needed to peel it back, so I went down to 125 lbs for a set of 3, and then 95 lbs for a set of 3 to work on specific areas of the snatch, that I could feel
I am so pissed off at myself, it’s hard to put into words. But it feels something like this:
I’m partially pissed that I didn’t finish the last two sets, but I’m more upset with myself for not taking more time to assess and understand how I felt during my warm-up. I am going to have to tattoo it to my forehead, “Your best changes everyday”.
I have no resolution for this post, and I have no idea how I am going to change this part of the way I think, it’s hard to stay within yourself when you desire improvement. I not only desire it I covet that bitch like she was my 90 year old neighbors hot 25 year old trophy wife.
I can only take a step back, reflect on how I feel today, realize how pissed I am, and try to learn to live in a place that is more about the constant act of improvement, versus an irrational desire to achieve some self created podium of victory.
Live in the moment fat guy, do what is your best in that moment, and strive for excellence and improvement.
The anticipation of the unknown drove me insane last week.
I had committed to a 10k, but not any 10k, a 10k that was through wooded trails, and included CrossFit WoDs along the way. Talking to anyone who had done it the previous year, the general consensus was, it’s like experiencing death. You are miserable while it’s happening, and find yourself asking how you ended up there, ultimately deciding that you feel awesome having experienced it.
Seriously?
Friday night I tried to get a couple of people I know from PCF to go see Jim Jefferies, but apparently I’m not cool enough to hang out with, so Kevin and Mickey you can kiss my ass.
This caused me to have an early night, which was probably in my best interest. When I woke up on Saturday I was as ready as I was ever going to be, physically I felt great, yet the initiation of starting the race caused me to feel like crap.
I drove down with Kevin to the race, and we talked about a bunch of random stuff, which kept my mind off the race. When we finally arrived, I was ready for this shit to start.
After warming up with the PCF Endurance Crew, which included a few people from PCF who are not doing CFE, we waited for about 30 minutes to get the race briefing. Listening to Adam the owner of Rare CrossFit and the host of the race, explain the course, and the goodies he had waiting for us, I wasn’t feeling much better about the race.
He told us about the course and provided little in the means of what laid ahead for us during the race; he basically gave us an overview of the whole course, but gave us little on the actual WoDs that were a part of the race. After the briefing they had us walk down to the actual entrance of the trailhead about 400 meters back.
As I stood at the start of the race, I could feel my heart pumping rapidly, I was nervous. I imagined the night before that I would write about this moment, how I felt this incredible feeling at the starting gate, how the building of communal adrenalin, and anticipation, was causing the stirring of some symbiotic collective energy which would help me burst through the first part of the race, I pictured a moment of slow motion where the participants prepare for the starter to pull the trigger, and where you can see and feel the muscles building tension right before the sound of the gun which is released by a single act of trigger pull.
That’s not what happened. It was more like my stomach sinking to my asshole, and as the people prepared to start I was losing my mind, and then it was nothing, Adam said 3-2-1 go, and that was it.
Running down the first stretch of the roadway, I could feel that my legs had quite a bit more bounce in them, I don’t recall the last time my legs felt that good. Clearly the tapering paid off, but it was a long enough race to find out if this statement rang true or not.
The first obstacle we encountered were a series of eight 24’ boxes. Adam described this part to us during the briefing, and pointed out that if you haven’t done them before, be careful because you can hurt yourself… who the fuck do you have tell? (Insert smart ass remarks here).
So when I got to the boxes the fear and anticipation I had been feeling was still present, I was able to leap up to each box using one leg, and then jumping off of them. Once I cleared all of the boxes Colby was directly in front of me, and I made a decision that I would just keep up with him until we got to the next WoD.
At this point the field had started to spread out, and the ¾ of a mile from the trailhead to the next obstacle passed by in a blur. You could here the sound of barbells rubbing against the plates as they were being brought down, the sound carried and you could hear it well before you actually saw what people were doing.
When I pulled around the corner, there were two lanes of people doing dead lifts, and two lines of people waiting. One line for men, and the other line for women, we had to do 25 dead lifts at 185 lbs, then I looked just beyond the dead lift area and there were people doing plated walking lunges, 50 of those would follow.
As a group people from PCF reached this point together, and there is great picture of Colby, Tom, Simon, and Tes doing dead lifts, and I think someone else from PCF finishing.
I waited, and happened to use the barbell that Tom had just finished on, when I picked it up, I was surprised at how light it felt, I blew through 15, then thought about pacing myself for the whole race and dropped it for 2 seconds to regrip, then blew through 10 more.
After the dead lifts, I could feel that my hamstrings were nice and warm, if not on the verge of burning. I picked up my 25 lbs plate and started my lunges. Regular lunges are tough for me, but for some reason when holding a plate over my head I have an easier time. I touched the ground on the first 25, and decided the rocks felt like shit, so the next 25 I got my knee almost to the ground; I went as deep as I could until I felt the ground beneath me, then moved back up.
After the lunges, my legs were on fire. The course went from being relatively flat; to relatively “I hate my life” steep. From this point it was mostly uphill for what felt like eternity.
I have no idea how long this first part took, or any idea of the distance, I still had Colby in front of me, and my only goal was to stay with him. We were packed into a small group of 5-6 people, and Colby and I would pass for a little, then they would pass for a little. At this point in the race we were still jogging the uphill, and running the downhill.
Tes made a great comment this weekend that this had to have been the only trail race, where even the downhill portions had inclines. This wasn’t like a simple ascent of a mountain peak where when you start out going up you just go up; it was a series of switchbacks, and transitions in the topography. The trail had clearly been built following the path of least resistance. Just because you were going up didn’t mean you wouldn’t go down a bit to go back up an even steeper route.
During this relative upward ascent of this ridgeline, I kept thinking, thank god I listened to Tes, thank god I listened to Tes, and I thought don’t let Colby get too far ahead. He had put some distance between me, but I could still see the back of his head.
At some point after my thanking of Tes, and chasing Colby’s head, we reached a point where the terrain seemed to flatten a bit, and then we started to descend. I was impressed with how much speed I was able to gain on the downhill, and how sure footed I was; this was probably the only part of the race that felt like “fun”.
I felt like a kid skipping down a hill, what was great was that the momentum I was building on the downhill would propel me over the next hills crest.
As the race continued we reached a point of steep decline, and I could see a fire road, at this point Colby was starting to get further and further away, to the point when I got to the bottom of the hill he was at least 300 meters ahead of me.
I ran down this gravel road trying to get my breathing under control, and to not think about, my hamstrings which were throbbing, I could also feel that my feet had taken a beating on all the roots, and rock edges on the downhill runs, this feeling was compounded by the big rocks on this gravel road.
We were running along what I think was the Rappahannock, and I could see that I was nearing an overpass for I-95. It was here were we had to start ascending. It was relatively steep, and I jogged up for about a minute, and then realized this was a bad plan. I’m not sure if I was doing this towards the end of the last section of the course, but from this point I know for a fact I was walking the uphill, and running the flats and downhill.
When I reached the top of this new ridge, there was a guy standing there directing me to take a left, I was for the most part alone, one person well behind me, and another guy who I didn’t know would come in and out of my sightline.
The terrain of the course changed from mud, rock and dirt, to sand. It also started to open up a bit, and there were very few trees. After a few more minutes of running the sand it transitioned back to compacted dirt, with clear tire tracks, it was some type of service or access road, I started to run downhill, and I could see a mass of people, including many of the PCF group who were well ahead of me.
“Pitstop” number three was 3 rounds of 50 double unders, and 20 kettle bell swings with a 53 lbs kettle bell. The rope they were using was significantly heavier than the speed ropes we use at PCF. I had to scale and did 100 single unders in lieu of double unders.
I did the singles in sets of 20-30. The first round of work was a bitch, partially because my calves were tight, but also because I think my equilibrium was in a different place, we had just transitioned bodily forward movement into a bodily upward motion. The kettlebell swings were easy, and I didn’t exert much energy, in fact at the 20th swing each round I felt like I had just started.
This WoD allowed me to pass a lot of the people from PCF. I know that the guys, who were doing double unders, had a hard time adjusting to the rope, because of its weight.
Ah well, sucked for them, I was moving onto the next part of the race.
Colby finished his third round a few moments before I did, so when I finished I grabbed a drink of water, and tried to catch him. He was far enough ahead, that I didn’t see him until the next station.
The next station was only about 400 meters from the previous one, and the place was awesome, and by awesome, I mean sucked. It was completely exposed, was full of dirt and crabgrass, which sticks into your skin like a shiv…of course that could only mean whatever was next meant rolling in the shit, we had to do 50 burpees.
By the way doing Burpees in front of a Best Western billboard somehow is a bigger kick in the nuts than just doing burpees in the dirt.
I saw Colby there working through his 50, I got right behind him, and started to flop down, finishing my first 15 relatively quickly, then I told myself, hey fuck nuts there still more race to do so pace yourself. I set out on a pattern of doing sets of five, and finished my burpees well before Colby, Tom, and some others who had gotten there before me.
The next part of the race was a 2 mile loop, going downhill again to the Rappahannock, and then back up to the burpee station. As I continued downhill, I could feel my quads starting to throb. During this part I was still running fast downhill, and I could here Tes’s instruction about making sure to keep my feet under me, the more I would hollow out my core, the more I could feel my body weight pulling me down the hill, and the less I felt like I was running, I was actually jumping from point to point.
At the bottom of the hill, it flattened out again, and the course weaved in and out of the trees. I had two new people who I would use to pace, a guy in a white shirt, and this other person who passed me. I started to hear footsteps, and a younger woman passed by me, all I saw was nice tan legs, blond head, and a black t-shirt with a skull and two lacrosse sticks crossed, she also had a small tattoo just behind her right ear, it looked like a Maori symbol…
What? Men are motivated by food and sex…it’s proven.
Well the reality of it was that from looking at her I knew she was a runner, and that if I could keep up with her I would be in good company, and have a good pace going…you decide which one is the truth.
The funny thing was before she passed me, I had two thoughts in my head, one that I was surprised at how good I feel, and two that a year previous to this race, and I would not have been able to walk this course in 5 hours, and here I was now running it.
After she passed me she got about 50 meters ahead of me, and I tried to just keep her in my sightline. Between us another woman had passed me, and she was clearly a Cross Fitter, with her physique, and “uniform” it was unmistakable that this woman liked to WoD, and behind me was a guy who was older, but was keeping pace with us.
Okay he was a lot older, and probably could still fuck me up, if I angered him.
Our group of four stayed together for most of this part of the race. The course changed and it was an ascent back up the ridge towards the billboard and the place where we rolled in the ground doing burpees. This part of the course clearly was more remote than the first part of the race the trail didn’t show as much wear, and the dirt was less compacted, and the general inclines were steeper, and longer.
Somewhere along this ascent, Tom caught up to me, and passed by me. For a good 15 minutes my motivating factor was to not allow Tom to catch me, I heard him a few times yell at me “COME ON LOUIS”, which would propel me uphill for a moment, then I decided he was going to catch me at some point because he was still jogging the uphill parts, so I decided just following the blonde was easier than running from the redhead.
I also at this point started to prepare my mind for that possibility that I still hadn’t reached the halfway point. Having no concept of time or distance, I was trying to gauge myself based on how I felt, and I felt like the halfway point was somewhere close.
It was at this point that I tripped over a root, and scared the shit out of the woman in front of me, and the guy behind me, as I got up I yelled I’m fine, go! They obliged quickly, and I used their sudden panic which turned into a faster run as a way to move my large ass faster.
I could see the billboard getting closer, so I knew we were close to finishing the loop. I don’t remember where, but I lost the group as the hill got steeper.
At the burpee station, we had to do 25 jumping air squats, which normally aren’t very hard, but with the lactic acid building from the trails kicking the crap out of my legs, it felt like death.
The blonde was already there when I started, and she was struggling a bit, and one of the course marshals, kept yelling “Get Deeper”, and “Come on Blondie”. I chuckled at that because my thought for much of the race was follow the blonde rabbit.
She didn’t think it was funny, and gave me a look like, “you’re an asshole”. Why is that all women have this look preprogrammed in them?
She finished the air squats a few moments before me, and the CrossFitter and her started back up the trail. I chased after them, and stayed with them. I was mentally preparing to back track the entire first section of the course, which was hard enough the first time, but the thought of doing it again scared me a little.
We didn’t have to take the short loop back to the kettle bell swing and rope station; we just head back down the steep ridge down to the fire road. We moved together for a while, then when we started to run downhill again, I started to pass the two women in front of me, I had a bounce back in my step, and as tired as my muscles were, and as bad my feet felt I wanted to try and pick it up a bit.
At the bottom of the hill we had reached the fire road again. My calf muscles were throbbing, and I started to cramp. It hurt enough that I walked a for a minute to try and stretch it as I moved, I was again mentally preparing to go back up and down the first ridge to get back to the dead lift station.
But when I got to the turning point to go uphill again, I was directed left back towards the trailhead. I realized then, that the end of the course was within a mile. After running a bit more, I reached the dead lift station, where this time I had to do 25 squats with a 25 lbs plate.
My face in the picture below says it all…
After the squats I had to then carry the 25 lbs plate back the first ¾ of a mile to the trailhead. I could smell the finish line.
Tes had us carry the plate a couple of times during CFE WoDs the week leading up to the event, so when I had the weight I felt comfortable throwing it back and forth between my left and right hand. I started to break the trail down bit by bit, I would tell myself ok we (me and the plate) are going to run with the plate in the left hand up to the that stump, then in my right hand up to the next bush.
As I did this I passed a couple of people, and I could see the trail starting to widen, and I kept looking for the blue tents. When I finally saw the tents, I didn’t care about anything other than running to the tents with the plate.
When I got to the tents, I threw down my plate, and had to run 30 meters to a point where 9 sleds were stacked with weights. I could see Tom pulling his weight back from the turn around point. His expression told me that it wasn’t fun.
I but on both straps, and started to pull, it was 95 plus pounds, and I think the distance was about 150 meters total. There was a young girl who was elementary school age, and she was pulling 45 lbs, I passed her, and in hindsight, I felt bad that I wasn’t coherent enough to encourage her…really I was thinking get the fuck out of my way…but I wanted to encourage her.
When I got back to the sled pull finish, I ran as fast I could which at this point probably looked like a slow motion jog, to the finish line, and I finished the race in 1 hour, 54 minutes, and 44 seconds.
Mutha fucka was dead tired.
I was in an almost a catatonic state, and could not function for a long while. I went to eat with our group, but had nothing clever or witty to say. My brain had reached that point where it was in such a state of shock, it shut down all other functions other than breathing. I’m pretty sure useless organs like my gallbladder were deprived of any blood flow for the rest of the day.
The one moment of clarity occurred when I got my strawberry milkshake at Cheeseburger in Paradise, I was like an adolescent boy who discovers his penis is for more than just peeing for the first time, I was in a complete state of bliss.
When I got home I sat on my couch, and didn’t move for five hours, I actually texted Antwone to help me, that he needed to text me that I was a lazy sack of shit, who smelled so I would get off the couch and take a shower. He wouldn’t helped, he said I earned it, so I watched 5 hours of movies and shows that I’ve already seen, and it was glorious.
After having done this race, I talked Erika into doing it next year, so I’m committed to the Rare 10k again, I know who does that?
It is exactly as others have described, you are miserable while doing it, but love the fact that you did it.
Just the single thought that a year ago today, I would not have been able to even attempt this race, tells me that I’ve made some type of progress, so I got that going for me.
I want to thank Tom, Tes, and Erika, especially Tes for giving us the strategy on how to run this race, and the confidence to do it.
Tomorrow morning I have my first ever “race”, it won’t be much of an actual race because I won’t be “racing”. The clock will be an insignificant part of this equation, as my only goal is to finish, and finish having given every ounce of effort that will exist in my body tomorrow morning.
As the race time looms ever so closer, I don’t have much fear, or anxiety, just the pangs of anticipation, and curiosity towards the unknown.
The weeks leading up to this Saturday have been an interesting 6 weeks of two a day workouts two to three times a week. What had originally started as a one-month experiment is turning into a way of life. I can’t say it’s been extremely difficult, but I can’t say it’s been easy either. I’ve had moments where I’ve felt like fucking Superman, but have also had many moments where I felt like a pile of shit that you would find at the bottom of a pile of newspapers in the house of a hoarder.
So for about six weeks this has been my schedule, Monday Morning CrossFit WoD, Tuesday Morning Crossfit WoD, Tuesday Evening CrossFit Endurance WoD, Wednesday Off, Thursday Morning CrossFit WoD, Thursday Evening CrossFit Endurance WoD, Friday Morning CrossFit WoD, Saturday Morning CrossFit Endurance WoD, Saturday at noon CrossFit WoD (depends on the WoD and how I felt. As result of this schedule in a 31-day month I worked out 32 times with 8 days off. Strangely when the month ended I felt okay.
That “okay” feeling changed the first week in April, on the first Thursday evening workout, I felt like shit. I now understand that a big indicator for me that I’m overtraining is my mental state. I don’t often feel awesome during my workouts, yet I continue to function in a place of tenacious desire, so I always find myself pushing harder and harder as workout progresses.
When that tenacity starts to wane, and I feel like taking shortcuts it’s a clear sign that I need rest.
So after my first Thursday duo of workouts, I took an extra day off. The following Monday when I started back up on my schedule I felt okay, but not great. I did feel a small level of sluggishness; so I chalked it up to a bit of rust from the rest, or that initial tightness everyone feels when returning to working out after a layoff.
I realize how absurd that description of my 3 days of rest is, but three straight days of rest for me is an extended period off.
As the next week passed I wasn’t feeling 100%, I had days where I was 80% on, and days where I was 90% off, but I felt the desire to push myself, everyday so I continued to push.
When this week started I felt good, even having done three days of two a days the week before. Monday, I felt great, and I was looking forward to the WoD’s the rest of the week.
…then a bomb was dropped on me by Tes. This week being the week of a race, she posted her “taper schedule”. After a week of following this “taper schedule”, I will now call it Tes’s suck schedule.
In order to rest everyone’s bodies for the race, her suck plan was as follows, Monday CrossFit WoD, Tuesday CrossFit Endurance WoD at 70%, Wednesday Off, Thursday CrossFit Endurance WoD that was really short, Friday Off.
I do realize the inherent irony in the statement that being told not to workout for a guy who was almost 450 lbs, as a bomb being dropped, yet that’s how it felt. I truly felt like someone had decided it was my week to get fucked with, and that Tes was telling us not to WoD as a punishment for missing interval times the week before.
Being told to rest for a person who has my emotional sickness is like a bomb. I have two speeds on, and off. Being told that it’s better for me to be in a state of off is fucking hard.
The Week
As a result of the tapering schedule I found myself on an ever-changing roller coaster that is my emotional and physical state during Tes’ Suck Week.
Tuesday
Tuesday morning, when I woke up I felt good, I had a good deal of energy, and I was ready to give 100% at the CrossFit Endurance WoD that night. When I got to work, in a matter of a few short hours, I encumbered my management staff with about 15-20 new projects which I told them I expect to see done in the next two weeks. I’m not sure if they completely understood me because I was talking like the guy from the MicroMachine Commercials.
At the WoD Tuesday night I was alert, coherent, but felt like I hadn’t done anything all day, so I stayed after the WoD to work on Recon Ron, core work, and the 100 push-up program.
Wednesday
This is normally a rest day for me anyways, but when I woke up I felt like Mel Gibson in Braveheart, I wanted to pick a fight. My hormones were on override, so one minute I wanted to put on my kilt, paint my face blue, and fight the English, then the next minute I would get a boner with change of the direction of the wind, okay so I can’t call it a boner, how about just a “bon”, (fuck you, I’m Asian).
Wednesday evening I took my self-destructive behavior, and applied it to work and I stayed in my office until 8 pm. I traded two a day’s for self imposed 12-hour work days.
Thursday
I had a full day of appointments, dealing with family concerns, my business, my future business plans, and lots of time on the road driving. When I woke up in the morning I felt drained, like a crucial part of my body wasn’t functioning, like my liver or kidneys. I just felt off. I still had more energy than I’ve had in months, but I just felt off.
There was a slight lack of mental clarity.
By the time I got to CrossFit Endurance, the last thing I wanted to do was run. I wasn’t tired, or even fatigued, I just didn’t want to workout. Which was weird, because the entire week all I wanted to do was the days WoD. It was tough as hell not going in to workout because each day there was something I wanted to work on, it was like Aaron, Erika, and Tes had established a Kabala and it was designed to fuck with my head by programming things I wanted to do into each WoD.
In any case while at Patriot I laid down waiting for CFE to start, and I would have been just as happy to take a nap and skip the WoD. When I did finally get up and do our short WoD, I felt like shit.
The OFF switch had officially clicked, and it was now time to leave it off, I even whined to Tes that this week fucked me up, and that I feel worse than when I was working out.
She gave me a look that was half pity, and half “you’re a jackass”, and said that’s a clear sign of over training. I spent the next 15 minutes talking shit to myself, doing my best Allen Iverson impersonation saying to myself “I ain’t over training”, in the same tone he used to say “We talkin’ about practice”.
I was bitter…like my 6 year old niece gets bitter, “I ain’t over training!”
Friday
Thursday night I went out for a drink with people from Patriot, mainly folks from CFE, and I had a few drinks. When I woke up this morning I was tired. Alcohol fucks me up, there is no doubt about it, maybe I shouldn’t have had anything, and I just hope it doesn’t linger until Saturday morning.
This has been a strange week, I have no idea how the ups and downs will effect me tomorrow, I’m just trying to stay hydrated today, and I plan on going to bed early tonight.
To Train or Not to Train?
Ultimately this week has left me with more questions than answers. I clearly saw benefits in my business life, while existing in a tumultuous mental state, most of which is from my own psychosis or desire to achieve more, I want to get to my goals, and I want to get them sooner rather than later. Each day that I’m not working towards those goals is a day of failure, each day that I can’t push my body to it’s limits is an epic fail.
I want to succeed in areas of my life where I have failed in the past, and most of those failures occurred as a direct result of not having the willingness or understanding of the price that has to be paid to achieve anything. Today I am more than willing to pay the price, multiple times if I have to, but is that desire to pay the toll for success the reason I am hurting my ability to grow faster, and reach my goals sooner.
Do I have to be like water, and stay fluid so I can form to whatever the situation calls for, or do I need to be like a boulder, rigid, consistent, and stalwart, or is there something that I am missing, overlooking, am I contributing to my success or failure?
Am I in the state of “try”, and not “do”, am I loser who wants to win the race, and not the winner who races because he loves the race?
What’s the point of all this? Where’s my vector?
How do I know if I’m overtraining, or just slacking? How do I keep the intensity I have which is forged with intense passion and desire while balancing my body’s ability to recover and grow?
Simon at dinner last night said something interesting. He does the work because he finds fun in the overall scope of what he does. Which I can appreciate… He didn’t have a chance to elaborate on what the fun is, whether it’s the comradery, the feeling of accomplishment, or the actual work itself, but I’m not looking for fun.
My desire to pursue physical activity is to overcome a challenge, and push my mental barriers beyond the capability of my physical limitations. It may be insanity at it’s best, but something, which is laid dormant for years, has woken in me, and I can’t seem to tame it, so I can use it to my benefit.
I may never understand it, or tame it, as much as I hate running I could end being one of those crazy ultra marathoners who run 100+ mile races…okay maybe I’m not that fucking crazy.
I have now lost 202 lbs from my heaviest, yet I don’t feel a sense of pride or excitement, in fact I feel a bit of indifference. I don’t know if it’s because my goals have changed, or if it’s because that 202 lbs feels as distant as the sun. I’m clearly not wrapped up in the weight number as much as I was a few months back, a big part of it is because I have gained quite a bit of mobility, and I can buy clothes in a regular store.
A recent photograph I saw was like a slap in the face, it was hard to accept that I am not as fat as I feel. The photo was from a group photo taken with the CrossFit Endurance Team at W&L track a few weeks back, if not for the fact I was trying to make Pete feel uncomfortable by placing my head as close to possible to his, I would not have immediately picked myself out of this lineup.
Mainly because when I used to look for myself in a group photo I would look for the biggest person in the picture, it was easy it would be like picking out a sumo wrestler in a lineup of Olympic Female Gymnast.
Is he holding his kid, or is it his lunch?
I’m still a big guy, but not bizzaro big. I think it will be a long while before I internalize the notion that I’m not a big fat mess, I’m now just a fat mess.
I am still careful with what I eat, but it’s not an obsession where I am weighing my foods, or carefully calculating the ratio of Fat, Protein, and Carbohydrates. I am very aware of how much volume of food I’m consuming, and making sure to not over eat on the protein, but not so anal about my food consumption that I will choose to workout an extra hour if I eat more than I planned.
As time goes on I am far more focused on performance, which somehow has lead me to signup for the Rare 10K this Saturday. I ran a marathon when I was 16, and that was at the end of 30 days in the Rockies with Outward Bound. Since that time the longest distances I’ve run strictly for the sake of running was three weekends ago when I accidently ran just over 3 miles with CFE. Don’t ask me how a person accidently runs more than planned, but a mutha fucka got lost in the woods.
With that most recent experience in the woods I have somehow made a decision that it would be smart to run a 10 K which has pit-stops that involve doing CrossFit WoDs. One of the stations last year was to do 100 kettle bell swings with a 35 lbs kettle bell, not to mention the couple of miles that people had to carry a plate, or a kettle bell.
Am I just stupid or a masochist?
To be perfectly clear if not for the Tough Mudder next month, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be doing this, I figure it will mentally prepare me for the grueling experience that the Mudder is going to be, yet I know the Mudder won’t be as bad, because the goal is to finish as a team.
The more I think about the Rare 10K, I have images of myself getting lost in the woods, or taking so long that basically the post workout party will start without me, and I’ll be done by the time they are cleaning up the finish line.
Is it insane for me to think this?
I don’t know…but I do know the fear I felt about this race is the main reason I signed up for it. The more weight I lose, the more I am choosing to not be fearful in my life, I’ve spent so much time being afraid, that I no longer want to succumb to it, but it attack it with every ounce of energy that I can muster.
I am not brave by any means, but overcoming fear is a nice way to emulate those who are braver than I am…
I’ve wanted to post to my blog for about a week now, and have had many ideas for good blog posts, but life, overtraining, and just a general malaise has caused me to do nothing in regards to my blog.
So here is a collection of random blurbs of some of the things I wanted to write about last week.
From Monday 04/02/2012:
Official Weigh In 249
Weighed myself this morning, and gained 4 lbs…I’m not that stressed, other than the fact that I wish I was closer to 240 lbs, so I could go out and get shit faced one night, then if I do gain 5 lbs from alcohol and anything I put down my gullet that I shouldn’t, then it won’t result in a desire to workout 5 consecutive hours to wrong the damage. (End psycho talk here…)
Weight is becoming something I focus on, but not as a primary reason for maintaining this new lifestyle. My bigger reasons are to climb mountains, the consequence of carrying unnecessary weight while climbing a mountain is an expenditure of energy which can be avoided if I’m leaner and more efficient as an athlete.
I still have in my mind a desire to weigh less than 200 lbs, but it’s not the end all be all goal anymore. If I am still above 200 lbs with a size 32 pants, and I am freakishly strong in lieu of the lighter body weight I can live with myself.
From Wednesday 04/04/2012 (Tuesday Recap)
CFE
5 Weeks of two-a-days is starting to wear on me. The WoD this morning was a killer on the lower body, the lunges coupled with bastards was like a one two punch combination to the ass, and hamstrings.
When I got to CFE, my legs were done, extra crispy fried, blacked out charcoal done. Which wasn’t a good start, because in the morning before the WoD started Tes saw me, and told me to go home, and that I’d better PR the time trial.
Tes is a good coach, she’s confident, knowledgeable, and has clearly been an athlete her entire life. A brief conversation with her this past week revealed she is an overachiever, forget that she's a Notre Dame alum, she has a full time job, coaches at Patriot, Coaches CFE, workouts after CFE, and travels to hold seminars for CrossFit HQ, yeah she's the type of person who schedules lunch so she won't forget to eat.
She’s is also apparently good with guns, so don’t let her 5’7" frame, with a fantastic CrossFit ass who is prone to break into full body laughter, lull you into thinking she’s docile, I’m pretty sure if we had to go into mortal combat I would lose 8 out of 10 times, (fuck even Labron is prone to missing a couple), she's feminie and tough, so if she says "you better" before anything, take it to heart.
One time during a Saturday morning WoD, the crowd was rowdy and not listening to her, so we had to do 10 burpees, that shut everyone up really quickly.
Going back to the point of my strange description of Tes, when I showed up to CFE I knew I had to run faster than the previous month or there would be punitive consequences.
After skills and drills, we all lined up for the time trial. When I started the first four hundred meters, I took off, and was moving at a pace that I knew I couldn’t maintain, but it felt good. I also think for the first 400 meters I was able to maintain decent CFE running form.
At the turn around point, is where shit fell apart.
Going uphill I started to get passed by the other people doing a 1 mile time trial. My hamstrings felt like knots, and my quads felt like I was pushing through glue. When I made the turn in front of the bank to finish my first 800, I could feel my legs were in the type of pain where if someone told me to stop I would have just laid down.
On the final 800 meters, my first 400 meter run was slowly turning into a jog. At the turnaround point my body felt like it was going in slow motion, and I felt like I was running up an escalator that was going down. Making the final turn I was done, but I was still able to find just enough gas to push as hard as I could the final 40 meters. It felt like I was running through sand, and I when I finished I was surprised at my time, which was 6:39.
My first 800 meters had been completed in 3:09, while the second 800 meter was 3:30 that should tell you how differently those two legs of the run felt. In the end I was able to better my previous 1-mile time trial of 7:09 by 30 seconds; I was psyched that’s progress in one month. As much as I hate running, I look forward to seeing where I am next month.
CFE it’s like taking cough medicine, it tastes like shit going down, but you know in the end it’s going to make you feel better.
From Friday 04/06/2012
I went to bed last night having had the worst 2 a day since I started CFE. While doing the WoD in the morning I felt like shit, and while AMRAP’s are normally in my wheel house, I just didn’t have enough mojo to push, and to be honest I didn’t care.
At the start of CFE, I was ready to do nothing. If the intervals had been longer, I’m sure I would have not showed up. When we did the 400 meter intervals, I was done after the first one. The final leg of the 3rd interval I jogged it, at least it felt that way. I started to whine to Tes, hoping that she would tell me it’s okay to just bag it in, but of course that’s probably not in her make up, she’s too tough, so I was stuck with doing all four. Even with less rest and feeling like ass, minus the 3rd one which was awful, my other three intervals were still faster than the previous months.
There is clearly something that works well with the CFE methodology, but what I learned last night is more important to the long term evolution of me, I’m starting to understand when I over train.
I am committed, motivated, and intense during my workouts, when I start to not care, or find ways to less work; it’s clearly a point where I am too fatigued to continue at the same pace. Perhaps my body has found a way to trick my mind into needed rest. The hard part will be to understand the difference between mental exhaustion as a result of fatigue, and just laziness.
I’m going to rest Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. It will be the first time in a couple of months I take more than one day off for the sake of rest, and not because I’m sick.
I am a mama’s boy, I’m not afraid to admit it, because I am. I’m much closer to her than my father; I think most of it was a direct result of being the youngest, and the natural pull of our similar personalities. I have no idea why I am professing my MamaBoyism, especially knowing that Shady Bear will read this and now call me a Mama’s Boy.
Ever since I can remember my mother would tell me that I start things really well, whether it was the Violin, Piano, Trumpet, Bass, Guitar, Tae Kwon Do, Computer Programming, and for all intensive purposes everything in life, but she always told me that I never finish anything.
A big portion of my life is like a brand new book, which barely has the spine broken, and only the first 5 chapters with turned pages.
I’m great at preparing and starting something, I do the research, learn about methodologies, find out who the best in a particular field is and then start down a road which indicates all probability of success, the only problem has always been I get 1/3 of the way through and I get bored, or frustrated and quit. To say the least I have great ideas, great plans, and poor execution.
Through my early 20’s when my first business failed, I could hear her words in my head, that I don’t finish well, and I that I won’t ever be successful in my life if I don’t learn to finish.
So I find a hint of irony in the fact that finishing strong is the reason I choose to workout with such intensity. Somewhere along the way, perhaps during one of the many ass kicking’s at the hand of Sam Pouenu, I decided that I was going to finish stronger than I started.
Not to say that I haven’t accomplished anything, I just never did it like a winner.
What do I mean by finishing?
In any given period of work I think most of us go through a similar process. We start off strong, working hard; to some degree we are trying to move our body from a basic starting point of zero into the work zone.
The work zone is where we start to excel and perform well, we can feel it in our muscle fibers, the application of good technique, the feeling of strength and power. As time goes on, our body starts to breakdown, and our weaknesses start to materialize. The pain starts to increase, and our mind starts to tell us it’s a better idea to stop and rest than it is to continue.
I think for most people this where they start to slow down, or it’s where they start to take breaks, but in that moment of inner weakness I feel this how we fail during our workouts. It’s not good enough to just get through, fuck who in life wants to just get through anything?
The decision we make in these pending moments of fatigue, frustration, and physical breakdown is how we learn about ourselves, we test our own mettle, and decide to either make progress in our physical efforts, or succumb to our imaginary pain threshold. I say imaginary because the physical pain is real, yet the intensity of the pain level is determined by you. The human body can adapt to anything, and your pain threshold is like your patience, you can condition it to make it more durable.
If you choose an active lifestyle, then this pain is something that is a part of your life, you have to ask yourself will the pain win everyday, or will you?
When I write about pain I’m not talking about running with a damaged Achilles, or doing push presses with a shoulder injury, I’m talking about the pain that always exists when you work your body. I am talking about that dull pain, that starts to seep into your mind as the lactate acid builds and as your muscles get tired, and your mind starts to lose focus.
All of these developments that occur during your workouts are part of the human body’s natural processes, yet the amazing adaptability of our bodies allows us to endure more, and as time goes on perform at a higher level longer.
It’s in these moments of strife that we can give in, or choose to overcome the situation and make progress in our fitness goals. This is a battle that no one else can help you with, as it’s a personal struggle between your body, and your mind. The more often we can win against the defeatist part of our personalities, the more often we evolve our ability to function, and increase our capacity for victory.
It’s here that we build our killer instincts.
I by no means enjoy running, but there is an aspect of it which, I am falling in love with, last night at CFE our WoD was to run four 800-meter intervals, with 3 minutes of rest between intervals. The goal was to keep our times within 5 seconds of each other, and to work on our newly learned running cadences.
My first interval was okay, and I finished in 3:30. Then after my second interval I asked myself did I really sign up and pay for this shit? I finished in 3:25. By the third interval I was ready to quit. I could feel my hamstrings, and quadriceps getting weaker, my mind turning into an unfocused mess of shit, but I finished the interval in 3:21.
At the start of my fourth and final interval I was about 8 seconds behind Pete and Kevin. As I took off from the starting line I was determined to catch Pete and Kevin. By the turn onto Glebe road I was only a few steps behind them. As we headed down the sidewalk towards the Sunrise Assisted Living turnaround point, I was gaining on them, and at the point where we start to turn around I was directly behind them.
The entire time I chased them down this hill I could feel the pain building in my lungs, I don’t know if this is what runners mean when they start talking about the burn, but it was a dull pain that grew as I worked harder. It almost felt like a black cloud of smoke bleeding into my lungs, causing me to fight to breathe, it’s probably a fight between my lungs and heart for blood flow.
When we started back uphill, I lost at least a dozen steps to them, it takes quite a bit of effort to slow this big ass body down, and then start it back up. I knew I had to recover quickly and close the gap early or I would never keep up with them. About halfway through the second half of the final interval, I was right behind them, and as we approached the street crossing near the Papa John’s, I was looking for enough space to pass them.
The entire time I trailed these two guys I was dying inside. My breathing became heavy, I felt like I couldn’t continue, in fact my right quadriceps was throbbing so hard, I’m pretty sure that a third of my blood flow was in that leg.
The only thing I kept telling myself was, finish strong. Finish hard, and finish strong. I wanted to shift into a new gear, and finish like a winner.
When we made that final turn, there was a split second where I wanted to quit, but when the road widen enough for me to pass, there was no question as to whether or not I would quit…quitting is for suckers.
How could I quit when the last 20+ minutes was all but a staging ground for this one moment of triumph or failure?
It took everything I had left in me to sprint the final 50 meters; I passed them and ran as hard as I could. A few of the steps I took I could feel my legs wanting to buckle, there was nothing but pain permeating from every part of my body, and my lungs felt like they would collapse.
When I finally crossed the finish line, I had run my fastest interval, 3:15. I had accomplished my goal, and I know that I left last night’s workout having done everything I can to improve my capacity to run.
What I call my dark place, is the pain abyss, and it’s the place you can either choose to get lost in, and give up, or choose to fight through and make progress, incremental progress over a log period of time is all it takes to succeed at anything.
I choose to win, it might not happen every time I go out, but it’s happened more times than not, and finishing hard is the reason I have been able to lose the weight that I have, and I know it’s the reason I will summit Mount McKinley next year.
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