January 16th 2018
Today I returned to the track for the first time in a year. (Yes, I actually went last month, and yes, I know that it’s dumb to make ‘I haven’t… in a year’ jokes in January, but just let me have this one.)
I always have to talk myself into going to the running track, or, more specifically I have to be talked into going to the track with a pep-talk from my boss that, after I give her my ready-made list of excuses, usually involves the phrase ‘Don’t be such a girl’.
I enjoy a track session, insofar as I enjoy being at the track. It’s the 2.5km there and back that is on the edge of unenjoyable for me. Short distances are more suitable to my running style and attention span. The running coach who leads the session keeps telling me that I should give up on medium-distance running and just become a sprinter instead. I tend to agree with him because running really fast for twenty seconds around an oval and then not running at all for twenty minutes sounds like my kind of exercise.
Unfortunately, sprinting isn’t a particularly sustainable form of social running. If I want to get out at lunchtime I can rarely just go out, get changed and do a couple of sprints. Track sessions are held twice-weekly, so they’re my best bet for now. In my head, a Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday schedule of Track Session, Track Session, 5km attempt, with some intervals on the Wednesday sounds like a perfectly good, if not somewhat unsustainable running plan.
It also sounds like a fantastic way to pull a hamstring or, as is more common with me, have a shin explode with inflammation. The last bit of that sentence may not make medical sense, but it’s what it feels like.
Until tomorrow, don’t be such a girl.