|Pain! Pain! Pain! (photo by Mr V).|
Today's plan was 6 x 600m. I didn't make it. I collapsed. I ended up "rumping" as Mr V calls it. Already during the warm-up my legs felt painful, but I still thought I would manage the session. I was wrong.
I started my first 600m interval in a good pace, a bit too optimistic you might say. After 200m I lost all my pace due to a "blind" soccer player walking straight onto the track. I need to learn running straight at those bastards, pushing them away in stead of making a quick change of direction which might lead to injuries. Despite this incident, losing maybe a couple of seconds, I ran the first 600m in 1:46.9 (2:58 pr km).
The second 600m was a lot harder but I managed to complete it in 1:49.7 (3:03 pr km), and then as well I lost a lot of speed and my rhythm due to one kid running straight onto the track. It's both annoying and dangerous with all the people having no idea on how to behave at a track. Someone, not as tired as me, should tell them off.
When I started the third interval I could barely get up in pace. I was extremely tired, and got full of lactic acid after 300 meters. I started hyperventilating and as earlier some shit kids made fun of my breathing. One day I'll kick their butts, but I need to get in better shape first. The third interval was completed in 1:56.6 (3:15 pr km).
Approaching the basement I needed a 13 minutes pause before I started on my fourth interval. I more or less got full of lactic acid after 200m and could barely move my legs, lift my feet or move my arms. At least it felt this way. The fourth interval was done in 2:01.7 (3:22 pr km). At this point Mr Jean realised there was no use in me doing another even slower 600m. He understood I was neither Peter Snell nor Usain Bolt. He pointed at Harald, from Sk Vidar, who ran past us in a great pace. "Look at him." Jean said. "See this guy, he is the fastest runner at the track, and you can not even hear him breathing or hardly hear his footsteps. You need to run that way." Harald is on a different level to me, or a different planet, so I reckon it's slightly unfair being compared to him. But I know I was heavy as an elephant and loud as a singing blue whale (and yes, blue whales are noisy).
In stead of doing two more 600 meters I did two 400 meters. I managed to increase my pace again, and completed them in 69.9 and 69.1 seconds (about 2:52 pr km), which was not too bad. Afterwards I was completely wasted. I didn't manage to run a meter. I fell to the ground. I had to lay down with a painful headache and felt like vomiting. I was tired and could barely talk, which doesn't happen that often at training. I regretted that I had started on my 400 meter project. I started doubting if I could take the pain needed to improve. Luckily thoughts like that are quickly forgotten.
|"Why the f%&* did I pick 400m as my distance?" (photo by Mr V).|
|Mr Jean happy with me finally not talking shit any more (photo by Mr V).|
|Today's split times.|