Sign of life
It has taken forever, it seems, to regain some of my former running, um, speed.
I'm not fast. Make no mistake about that. Never have been. But once upon a time I used to routinely run miles in under 9 minutes. OK, so it wasn't that long ago. Maybe a couple of months, at most. And I'll still occasionally log a sub-9-minute mile during my winter maintenance runs. But running that pace doesn't come easily in the winter. I know that. I expect that.
Maybe it's the extra layers of clothing I'm carrying. Maybe it's the constriction of my leg muscles caused by my compression shorts and running tights. Maybe it's the uncertain footing. Maybe it's the cold air. Maybe my muscles never fully warm in the winter climate. Maybe it's simply my offseason take-it-as-it-comes mindset.
Whatever it is, speed is little more than a rumor in my training log in January and February. So today when I clocked my final mile in 8:41 -- I did it rather comfortably, too -- it was a small victory. A sign of life in them there legs.
Sure, there's a long, long way to go before I'm running that same mile more than a minute faster. Getting back to point won't be easy. Never is. I suspect it will continue to become more elusive as I age. But somehow, as inconceivable as it seems now, I will return to that kind of pace.
It can't happen soon enough.
I'm not fast. Make no mistake about that. Never have been. But once upon a time I used to routinely run miles in under 9 minutes. OK, so it wasn't that long ago. Maybe a couple of months, at most. And I'll still occasionally log a sub-9-minute mile during my winter maintenance runs. But running that pace doesn't come easily in the winter. I know that. I expect that.
Maybe it's the extra layers of clothing I'm carrying. Maybe it's the constriction of my leg muscles caused by my compression shorts and running tights. Maybe it's the uncertain footing. Maybe it's the cold air. Maybe my muscles never fully warm in the winter climate. Maybe it's simply my offseason take-it-as-it-comes mindset.
Whatever it is, speed is little more than a rumor in my training log in January and February. So today when I clocked my final mile in 8:41 -- I did it rather comfortably, too -- it was a small victory. A sign of life in them there legs.
Sure, there's a long, long way to go before I'm running that same mile more than a minute faster. Getting back to point won't be easy. Never is. I suspect it will continue to become more elusive as I age. But somehow, as inconceivable as it seems now, I will return to that kind of pace.
It can't happen soon enough.
posted by RTG at 2:14 PM
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