So, this week's running rumination is basically just a variation on a theme from a few weeks ago. There's apparently some part of my mind that still has not really come to terms with my ability to sustain a given pace over a length of time, even as my body adapts to running longer and longer distances. Case in point: this week was a scheduled easy "recovery" week, and today I ran 11 miles. I mean, seriously. Two months ago 6 or 7 miles might have been possible, but 11 miles seemed like a more or less impossible distance. Or just one month ago I was pleased as punch to have run 11 miles for the first time. Now, though? Eleven miles is apparently what I do on my week off. And I'm sorry - I really don't mean to keep going on and on about running farther than ever before every week or so - but while my lungs and legs have gotten used to the distance, my mental image of myself still hasn't quite incorporated that fact yet.
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Monday: 20 minutes on the stationary bike, then 10 on the erg.
Tuesday: 5 x 1000 fast, but with a full three minutes of recovery in between each interval.
Wednesday: A light 5 mile run.
Thursday: An even lighter 4 mile run... Coach wasn't kidding about this being a recovery week!
And a restful (albeit work-filled) Friday
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A' shall answer it. Some pigeons, Davy, a couple/of short-legged hens, a joint of mutton, and any/pretty little tiny kickshaws, tell William cook
This is probably not going to be the most appetizing thing I've ever posted on this blog, but today I took an occasional phenomenon far enough that, seeing as I don't have anything else in particular to talk about, I thought I'd mention it here. So, I usually do the long Sunday runs a little bit before noon, which means that by the time I've finished the run, cooled down a bit, gotten back to the apartment, and showered it is well past lunch time. Coupled with the fact that I usually eat breakfast early and, oh, wait, I just ran some silly distance, well... By the time I've transitioned out of running mode I just about always find myself ravenously hungry. Usually this leads to nothing terribly interesting: I make a sandwich, followed by a second sandwich. And, if the bread wasn't terribly large or was too airy, sometimes a third sandwich.
Then there are days like today, which I've affectionately taken to calling "Many Wonders" days ("many wonders" being code for "leftovers" in the Incandenza househould). You see, sometimes I haven't done my weekly grocery shopping before the run, and sometimes I've already just about run out of bread (or real leftovers from one of the week's dinners, for that matter)... but at such times my stomach cares not for such excuses, and merely shouts "SUSTENANCE! CALORIES! FOOD!" over and over and over. Well, clearly there's nothing for me to do but scour the cupboards for anything and everything that is vaguely edible without long cooking times. This week, though, I think I hit a new low in terms of hoovering up anything within reach - at least in terms of variety, if not in total amount - as I went through a granola bar, 5 fairly unpleasant whey protein balls, a pear, the last lonely slice of bread (with peanut butter), a few bits of herring, and a single serving Thai Kitchen "just add water and microwave!" noodle dish from my emergency meals stash.
I might be going out on a limb here, but I think that's probably the most surreal assortment of food I've ever eaten in the span of a single meal. Well, what can I say? Everything is delicious when you're hungry!
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Saturday: 7 quick miles... a workout, but not so tough after a light week and yesterday's day off.
Sunday: 11 miles. Happily, off of the treadmill this time!
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Recently watched: Mulholland Dr. You know what? David Lynch sure makes some strange films...
Current estimate of my odds of completing a marathon on May 1st: Another slight, no-particular-reason uptick... 86%
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