You wake each morning to the buzzing of your alarm, shaking you out of the la la land and into a raging debate with yourself. You question if you really need to put your body through the paces after all you have put it through during yesterday’s gym workout. Somehow you manage to win that debate. You brush your teeth and try to gulp down that black coffee, still a little groggy cause sleep has not totally abandoned you, just like a true friend.
You fry the chicken and prepare the salad. You toss some lime into it and push it into the fridge. Once done, you don your running gear, grab your house keys and carry your water belt. As a routine you step outside your house and wear your shoes on the step, like you always do, either out of habit, or a superstitious running ritual. That’s when it hits you. That nagging thought that you’re forgetting something actually meant that you have forgotten something. You’ve left you earplugs at home. Too lazy to open the door and grab them you decide to forgo them for today.
So after some stretching, trying hard not to use the adjective quick, you are off. Today’s speed intervals, 5 intervals of 4 minutes each, your mission, if you choose to accept it, yeah like you have a choice, is to do at least 800 meters in 4 minutes, trying to maintain a sub 4 pace. Doesn’t sound easy and it isn’t, and you don’t have your music to boot. So it’s just you and the sound your feet make and your thoughts.
The initial kilometre is just a warm up, getting yourself into the run. And then its off on the first interval. You try to pick a breathing rhythm that will help you maintain your pace that’s not laboured, not ragged. You look straight up and letting your chin lead you, like you have heard your app speaking to you before, which for some reasons doesn’t play any longer.
You try to maintain your strides and your foot strikes, trying your hardest to land on your fore foot but somehow you keep striking with your heel. You play in your head all the advices that your received from the coaches and speedster, doing your best to correct your self and improve your form. Unfortunately you are the least technical person and very often what they have said has either flown over your head or just bounced off you.
Just like that your done with the first interval. You have two minutes to recover before the next four minutes of running. You try to bring your heart rate down. By now your breath is jagged and you struggle to get it normal. By now the humidity has reduced you to a puddle of sweat. Your tee makes you look like you have entered a wet tee competition, who knows you could even win it. Making you you feel like Mandakini under the waterfall.
After 2 minutes you are back to running, and just like that you are through the 2nd and 3rd intervals. You are halfway there. The heat and humidity are killing you, and you trying your best to maintain your breathing and wipe the sweat from your face. You visualise the speedsters you have been blessed to run with, to push you to inspire. The effortlessness with which they run, strides as smooth as silk, is a sight to behold and experience. You think of your fellow runner who without fail get in their runs while you struggle haul your lazy arse. You do it for yourself, to inspire you and through you, others.
Come the 4th interval and you feel the fatigue hitting you, the heat tormenting you, sweat dripping, pouring out of every pore in your body. Is this the famous wall you’ve hit. You know your struggling and there’s a slope to come. You curse yourself under your breath. There’s no use of cursing the weather, it’s not going to change and it will not help. If only you didn’t wake up in the morning, you wouldn’t be suffering the heat and humidity, battling the elements and the fatigue that’s sleeping into your limbs. You wonder where did your speed do, if you ever had it, what has slowed you down? Was it the extra weight you have put on, the one you can’t shake off, like the Taylor Swift song, no matter how hard you try. Or is it age slowing you down, but then there are runners who are getting better with age and your trajectory is going in the opposite direction.
Finally you’re at the last interval, time to give it your all. But by this time fatigue has already set and you’re battling the elements. Your legs feel like Jell-O when you want them to feel like butter. At the same time adrenaline too kicks in, its go big or go home, anyway you’re heading home. You give your all and once dine, it’s time to cool down.
As you still have a km to go you break into a slow jog. Reaching your garden you try to get in some core workout and stretches only to have your bacchas come around you and try to lick your sweat off. With that you have completed your run and it’s off to start a new day, albeit a bit tired from all the effort you put into your run.
No comments:
Post a Comment