Mile Over Mile
I'm tired. My legs hurt. Specifically both of my calves. Really, really tired.
I'm tired, partly because of the increase of my workout load rolling into the slight taper for Phoenix in a week and a half. But also partly because I'm undisciplined when it comes to getting into bed at a respectable hour. Too much stuff to do. And by "too much stuff to do," I mean, I cannot STAND the thought of rolling off my bed to finish my nighttime routine, let alone, roll over to turn out the lights. I'm a sloth, and my sleep patterns are suffering because of it.
My hazardous standoff with discipline has to end. I cannot continue to operate at this diminished capacity! On top of that my heart-rate at exertion is going ballistic. What should be a heart rate of an 11:30 mile is now the heart rate of a 13:30 - 14:45 mile. When it comes to training, nothing is firing correctly.
Last week I wrote my coach an email telling him how discouraged I was that I was doing the work/being honest with my heart-rate training, but I was seeing absolutely no resuts. I had the heart-rate of a prebirth infant when I was running at the pace of a slug covered in salt backed over four times by a Mack truck.
I wasn't a happy triathlete. I'd trusted and invested in the process, but the process had thumbed it's nose at me.
A couple nights after the email discussion with my coach, my assigned workout was a 40 minute run in Zone 2.
Shortly after the sun had set, I programmed my Garmin to alert me if I crossed over into Zone 3 and hit the road. 40 minutes later (after having stopped twice to walk to bring my heart rate back to Zone 2). These were the splits I posted.
I was gobsmacked, I'd finally found my way home, to the pace I should've been posting in Zone 2.
Mile over mile, without physically trying to, I'd gotten faster. Even in the last two miles when I had to walk to pull down heart rate, I'd still posted negative splits without trying to do so. After a couple months of fighting against heart-rate, without effort, I'd fallen back into what should've been my norm.
An unintentional "fall back" that was sweeter than any fall I'd registered in a long, long time.