Intervals are in fashion!

Yesterday, I did what actually was my first track workout. Before that I'd done all my running on the road and attempted to use some of my shorter runs as speed work. Time trials for 3 and 4 mile runs and the like. But, of course a track workout is a totally different animal.

So the plan was...

1 mile warmup
8x800 (with a 400 recovery between each)
1 mile cooldown

Basically this is a fartlek run, and I got the suggestion from a friend out in Indy. This of course was the plan, and sometimes the plan goes much better than the actual run. Truth told, I only got through 6 rather than 8 of the 800's.

Still, it was a good day. At the beginning there were only three or four other people on the track. I did my mile warmup at a leisurely 8-8:15 pace.

I took a swig of water, and it was time for my first 800. 2:59. I honestly had no idea what to expect in my interval times. But to be under 3 minutes fora half mile. I liked that. I was encouraged. I went about my 400 recovery at a much slower pace. And then my second 800, 3:10. As I looked down at my watch, I yelled, "Shit! Come on!" Half of this was frustration from already being tired. Half of it was from dropping 10 seconds already in just one interval. I quickly found out from the disapproving stares that shouting profanities of encouragement were not exactly smiled upon at this track. I made a mental note.

My next 4 intervals were 3:10, 3:11, 3:18, and 3:16. I found myslelf a mix of satisfied with those times and frustrated that I had nothing left for two more, and I went about my one mile cool down.

The most interesting moments came during my final few intervals. A man and woman showed up with a camera, the man in full fashionable ruunning gear. And he fake jogged up and down one straightaway as the woman took pictures. It was some sort of fashion shoot I guess. That's fine. We all want to look good, and we all appreciate running attire that doesn't make us look ugly. But in the future, keep your fashion shoots outta my damn lane.

Yeah, they were in lane 2. MY LANE! "Fuckers!" I said to myself (quietly, since curses of encourgement are frowned upon at this track) as I noticed this on the opposite straightaway. And as I came up behind the photographer, breathing prety heavy and with heavier footsteps, she didn't move. So, I ran around her, and then right back into my lane, getting in the way of her shot. This happened again on my 400 recovery. I was glared at by the runner model, but just went about my business.

In the end, I just hope they got some good action shots of me, hair flowing both feet off the ground. If lucky they may have even caught me shooting a snot rocket during recovery. That's centerfold material.