Last night was it, the peak of my Yasso 800s. After Sunday's deadly 20-miler (yes, and shitty, if you must know), I wasn't feeling too confident when I strolled onto the track to complete 10 repeats of 800 meters at Symmondsian speeds (x2).The track was virtually empty for my first few intervals. So far, so good. Perhaps my legs weren't as tired as I thought. I was feeling all Olympicky with my dead nuts-on pacing. But then somebody's weirdo, red-headed step-child showed up.
I was drinking some water when this pink-skinned, shirtless wonder arrived. He had run from who knows where. This wrong-headed soul trotted onto the track, going the wrong way, gave me the googly eye and turned around to run counterclockwise.
I was ready for my next 800 meters. I stepped back onto the track, pressed the lap button on my watch and picked up my pace. After I rounded the first curve, I started gaining on the red rocket. I was in his hip pocket 50 meters later. And then he blasted off! Go man, go!
And then I caught up to him again at the second curve. Whoosh! There he went again, turning back his head slightly. Was this creep racing me? He played this fun little game almost throughout the interval. After 600 meters, I was content to stay within my pace. But alas, the game went on as I picked up my speed for the final kick. And again, he Bolted away.
I let him put some serious distance between us during my recovery lap. I didn't like the cut of his hair. I was glad when he bailed a couple repeats later. Obviously, he couldn't hang.
Now, the numbers ...
10x800 meters (goal pace 3:38.3 - 3:48.5)
- 3:39
- 3:40
- 3:39
- 3:43
- 3:41
- 3:45
- 3:42
- 3:43
- 3:42
- 3:37
If I plug those numbers into the McMillan Calculator, it says I should be able to run a 1:44:47 at the Buckeye Half Marathon. But then again, McMillan's site also says Yasso is full of shit and that my marathon would be more like 3:46:00, which puts me at a 1:47:10 half marathon. But then again, again, Nitmos says McMillan is an antiquated fool, but his new math is too complicated to figure out what my half marathon will be on Sep. 7. But then again, again, again, I still think Nitmos is an idiot.
So what's all this mean? I don't have time to explain it to you. I have work to do. Go away now. Run well and drink well.
[Drunkard's note: No offense intended toward any actual red-headed step-children.]
14 comments:
actual red-headed step-children
I have a blond-haired stepson, so no offense taken. You can insult the red-hairs all you want.
Clearly, the weird rabbit kid was totally intimidated by your running prowess. He wasted himself running, what was it, 1600 meters? and realized he'd end up a quivering pile on the grass if he kept up the shenanigans. You rule.
dead nuts? maybe you should have those looked at.
was it this guy?
If ever there was a time for stepping on someone's heel intentionally then that was it.
Those are some pretty fast time predictions, and just when I felt like I was starting to gain on you.
I suggest you spend less time running and more time working out my race predictor algorithm.
That is an impressive set of Yasso's you have there.
Nice job with the intervals!
My money's on Yasso. Next half is going to be around 1:45. Those repeats don't lie any more than Shakira's hips.
Love how the last one is always, always the fastest...
awesome intervals!
Those are super-duper intervals. Sometimes, these randomly competitive assholes are actually useful.
My nemesis didn't show up this morning (the girl, not the gnats...the gnats showed up).
Great job on the speed work!
Oh, and I agree with ee.
Dude, sweet numbers! Whoot!
Sweet Yassos! There is nothing better than running someone off the track...unless you count staring someone down on a treadmill. Yes I'm running faster than you, yes I've been running longer than you, and yes I'm such a great runner I can run straight while I stair at your pathetic attempts to one up me!
Awesome intervals, and dead-nuts mean no more children - red haired or otherwise... Step children are still in play, so watch yourself!
I, too, write them off when I don't like the cut of their hair.
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