OMG I am slow. I was never fast, but this……
Today is a multi-sport day. Thinking that a good six hours might provide sufficient recovery from a morning 4 mile run, I take off early. The sun is already above the fir trees so my shirt is wrapped around my waist as I slog around the gravel track. I am attempting to make the effort efficient, peaceful and of value more than simply absorbing some early morning vitamin D. I find it interesting that something that I used to be fairly good at, running, now puts my every energy system into immediate overdrive. The power I used to exploit in racing, surging hills and endurance, left long ago, replaced by the sensation of the last mile of a marathon. Anyone who has done 26.2 is familiar with this experience. I get that these days within the first mile. Ouch.
My latest strategy is best described as a combination of crisis management and damage control. My lower back has been compromised for about ten years now and my left side is ablaze today with chronic inflammation caused by, in my assessment, a muscle tear that has never truly healed. Or a ligament bent too far. Or a tendon unwilling to release tension properly. All this combined makes every other foot strike an adventure. Will I get stronger or will something finally snap? Will my will win or will I be forced by the wisdom of my body to slow down, stand down and back down?
Tactically I devise responses in real time. Today, along with the practice of impeccable form, optimal efficiency and lightness of foot strikes, I try something that I used to do many years ago, back when my default cadence was in its infant stages. I count. Similar to the military marching cadence routine, I set a rhythm and count it off. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8, 2-2-3-4-5-6-7-8, 3-2-3-4-5-6-7-8. When I get to 10 I stop the count AND TAKE THE LESSON.
The lesson is one of flow. It combines controlled, continual, relaxed breathing with the relentless and hopefully graceful movement through time and space. Arms are relaxed, head is high, progress is steady. One can release from the count and stay in the groove, now able to enjoy the experience as trees, birds, clouds, old folks walking dogs and other runners come into and out of the positive and engaging space I have created around me.
As soon as this ‘runners high’ dissipates, it is back to the count.
It really makes little difference if I am running 10 minute miles or half that. No one is going to care if I defend my pathetic age group championship on Saturday, or if one the other gentlemen in my embarrassingly small group dethrones. I am doing this because I can. While I still can. I actually enjoy the challenge of the course and the rules of the game. I have no teammates to pull me along. I either do - or don't. There are precious few ways to game the event. It is heartbreakingly simple: Swim 1500 meters, ride a 40K and run a 10K. Fist guy back wins.
My open water swim, the second session on this long warm summer day, is scheduled for 6 hours from now. I am going to reacclimatize with the chilly waters of Puget Sound and try to find the same rhythm in the wet that I found on the dry. If it is as humiliating slow as my run I will have to deal with that as well. I am calling this mini-duathlon, the ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire,’ run-swim brick.
I may be slow, but at least I got a plan.
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