This week I've been spending some time thinking about (well, like the title says) the assortment of and connections between of pain, torture, and exercise that go into building endurance and just generally getting more fit. I think I mentioned a few weeks ago how I was finding it strange that my legs would be tired but not actually sore at the end of some of these days of running, and since then that trend has only intensified (if vague muscle tiredness can really be said to be "intense," that is).
I think the reason I find this so strange - this relative lack of pain during exercise - is that it runs so counter to my previous experience of what it means to be whipped into shape. I mean, in high school during the first few weeks of soccer practice I fully expected (expectations that were, more or less without fail fully met) that twice a day my lungs would be burning and my legs crying out for help. Or, a bit further back, skating those infernal suicides during hockey practice. Or, for that matter, those crazy, screaming-calf-muscle plyometrics classes in college with Coach Michelyne. The common theme was always (1) work hard, (2) suffer, (3) improve. And I always thought that that's just the way exercise worked.
So, this running program has continued to strike me as a little odd. I mean, sure, on my fast runs I'm breathing quite hard, and at the end of the long weekend runs my quads let me know that I have indeed been running for a while. But it's just not the sort of level of pain-feedback that I'm used to...
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Monday: 21 minute on the erg. Took me a while to fall into a good rhythm, but once I did a very nice, light cross-training day.
Tuesday: 1 x 2 miles, 2 x 1 miles, and 2 x 800 meters, progressively faster but with a two minute rest in between each.
Wednesday: 6 miles, moderate pace.
Thursday: The fastest 5K I've ever run in my life. Exhausting.
On Friday, some rest
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Well, the reason I've been thinking about this is that this week I've had to face the fact that I think I might be in the best shape of my life. At least by a few metrics, anyway. Today I definitely ran the farthest I've ever run in my life, and just a few days ago ran what was easily the fastest 5K of my life. (Now, maybe at the peak of my soccer fitness I might have been able to match Thursday's 5K pace if I was running a race, and granted Thursday I was on a treadmill, so it was a little easier to stay on pace over the last mile, but still, you see my point.) This all seems to fly in the face of my whole established Exercise-Pain-Fitness belief system (a sort of Aeschylean "He who learns must suffer/And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget/Falls drop by drop upon the heart,/ And in our own despite, against our will,/ Comes wisdom to us..." but for "fitness" instead of "wisdom," I guess) Hmm....
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Saturday: 6 miles - same distance and pace as Wednesday, but it's amazing how much easier the same run feels after a day of rest.
Sunday: 12 miles. I'm trying not to gush each time I increase my previous record for distance by one little mile, but still...I was excited!
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Currently reading: Just finished that Michael Chabon book...and actually, I was a bit disappointed. Maybe I'm only remembering the essays that I really liked from the other collection of his that I read, but this one just didn't strike me as being nearly as good. Oh well.
Remembered cheese fact of the week: Fresh, imported Gorgonzola is so, so much tastier than the wrapped, packaged wedges I often get at the supermarket. A factor of two or so more expensive, but, once in a while, definitely worth it.
Current estimate of my odds of completing a marathon on May 1st: Compared to last week, I'm giving my self +3% for feeling generally fit and in shape, but also -2% for a creeping confidence that I'll be able to do this without a problem. Mustn't get too cocky. 76%
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