If you are reading this post and I’m your coach, move on. Nothing to see here.
Yesterday I went out for a recovery run. My recovery pace is supposed to be 10:30 and I expected that I’d barely manage that after Sunday’s 10 miler. I was pleasantly surprised to find that my legs and achilles actually felt great, so I just motored along at what felt like a pretty easy pace. First mile: 9:25. Oops.
Hmm, well, let’s turn this into a tempo and go for two more at that pace. Second mile: 9:02. Oops.
Screw it, let’s call it a progressive run and see what the legs have left. Third mile: 8:18. Woot!
I love days when the weather is just right (45 degrees and sort of grey), you dress just right (ALO capris and two lightweight long sleeves), and your body cooperates. I needed to know that my legs can sometimes remember speed. And sometimes, it just feels good to push it a bit.
Today I hit up the gym with a running coach I work with who is also a personal trainer. I figure if I’m going to be recommending him to people, I should see how he works. Umm, I might not be able to lift my arms tomorrow and I’m 100% sure that I will be rolling out of bed instead of sitting up in the morning. He showed me two different 30 minute routines (the amount of time I told him I normally have) that pretty much hit all the major muscles, with focus on core and hips.
And *whispering* the rodent reign of terror may have come to an end. Just sayin’.