Training Log Archive: iansmithIn the 1 days ending Sep 22, 2011:
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Thursday Sep 22, 2011 #
7 PM
Orienteering 53:58 [4] *** 10.35 km (5:13 / km) +122m 4:55 / km
ahr:168 max:190 23c shoes: 201006 Inov-8 X-talon 212
Today's activity was an excellent sprint on the Tufts map sandwiched between two street-O legs set by Brendan. I should have reset my watch between legs, but I didn't want to stop.
The first leg of the street-O was basically a warmup, and I cruised it at 5:00/km. While I was running aggressively on the sprint, my average speed slowed to 5:28/km - measured by actual distance, not race distance. I started alone, spotted Stephen charging to 7 while I was running to 3, and caught up to him after he made a mistake at 13. The leg to 15 was a long straightaway, and he blazed past me. I had him in my sights until I passed him at 20, when he slowed to a walk for some reason for a few moments. He started up again and beat me to the point, but was delayed when he ran into Lori after charging down the hill to 22. I got ahead and stayed in the lead until after the finish, when we passed Ali stretching. The spike in my speed at 39:25 - when I accelerated briefly to 3:06/km, was my desperate but futile effort to stay ahead of him. My sprint time was 25:22.4 or something (and I was apparently nemesis'd).
I gingerly cruised around on the second street-O until I heard Ali closing from behind. She has a much quieter step than Stephen, Ross, or the usual suspects, so I didn't realize how close she was. I immediately kicked back into high gear - not because I'm so blindly competitive that I can't tolerate the thought of Ali beating me, but because competition with peers is exhilarating. I stayed ahead of her, and we ran into Stephen at 47:45 in my track. He grabbed on to us, then the three of us kicked it up another gear. I am quite sure Stephen was being playful - that he could have bolted away without much effort, but I was fighting as hard as I could to stay up. Those two minutes that we charged up Summer St were sublime; nothing mattered, nothing was real to me but the three of us and our mutual goal. As turbulent and tiring as it was, there was a stillness, a moment free of thought or feeling. Had I resources to spare in that moment, I would have thought of the soundtrack to Chariots of Fire. It was beautiful. This is the purpose for nemeses, for peers of the shoe, for the challenges we set ourselves: to motivate us to excel. (Naturally, it would have been great to excel at faster than 4:00/km, but speed will come.)
Running with Ali and Stephen in that moment was a delight, the magnitude of which was matched only by my catastrophic demise moments later, as we turned onto a steep incline on Porter St. I had nothing left; my pitiful fitness had been stretched to its limit, and with my waning strength, I could only flail in vain at the edifice of concrete before me. Just as my heart rate inched past 190, I failed. Stephen and Ali cruised ahead, and the moment was gone. I scrambled up the hill, then ran back down to the finish.
Brendan had prepared a scrumptious dinner, and Alex joined Lori, Stephen, Presto, Ali, Dean, and I for food, company, and good cheer.
Control count: 113/2000
The first leg of the street-O was basically a warmup, and I cruised it at 5:00/km. While I was running aggressively on the sprint, my average speed slowed to 5:28/km - measured by actual distance, not race distance. I started alone, spotted Stephen charging to 7 while I was running to 3, and caught up to him after he made a mistake at 13. The leg to 15 was a long straightaway, and he blazed past me. I had him in my sights until I passed him at 20, when he slowed to a walk for some reason for a few moments. He started up again and beat me to the point, but was delayed when he ran into Lori after charging down the hill to 22. I got ahead and stayed in the lead until after the finish, when we passed Ali stretching. The spike in my speed at 39:25 - when I accelerated briefly to 3:06/km, was my desperate but futile effort to stay ahead of him. My sprint time was 25:22.4 or something (and I was apparently nemesis'd).
I gingerly cruised around on the second street-O until I heard Ali closing from behind. She has a much quieter step than Stephen, Ross, or the usual suspects, so I didn't realize how close she was. I immediately kicked back into high gear - not because I'm so blindly competitive that I can't tolerate the thought of Ali beating me, but because competition with peers is exhilarating. I stayed ahead of her, and we ran into Stephen at 47:45 in my track. He grabbed on to us, then the three of us kicked it up another gear. I am quite sure Stephen was being playful - that he could have bolted away without much effort, but I was fighting as hard as I could to stay up. Those two minutes that we charged up Summer St were sublime; nothing mattered, nothing was real to me but the three of us and our mutual goal. As turbulent and tiring as it was, there was a stillness, a moment free of thought or feeling. Had I resources to spare in that moment, I would have thought of the soundtrack to Chariots of Fire. It was beautiful. This is the purpose for nemeses, for peers of the shoe, for the challenges we set ourselves: to motivate us to excel. (Naturally, it would have been great to excel at faster than 4:00/km, but speed will come.)
Running with Ali and Stephen in that moment was a delight, the magnitude of which was matched only by my catastrophic demise moments later, as we turned onto a steep incline on Porter St. I had nothing left; my pitiful fitness had been stretched to its limit, and with my waning strength, I could only flail in vain at the edifice of concrete before me. Just as my heart rate inched past 190, I failed. Stephen and Ali cruised ahead, and the moment was gone. I scrambled up the hill, then ran back down to the finish.
Brendan had prepared a scrumptious dinner, and Alex joined Lori, Stephen, Presto, Ali, Dean, and I for food, company, and good cheer.
Control count: 113/2000