March 18, 2014


Didn't have a goddamn thing today. Rode my bike for a couple hours, lifted, jogged 3.

A few little niggles, some DOMS, but mostly just flat. As a training stimulus, I'm pleased with this. I wanted to go out stupid hard, hurt like hell, and hold on. A month out from my Spring's goal race, there isn't much to do that will add appreciable fitness. But I can, perhaps, increase my access to the fitness I've already attained.

Regarding that, there is something to be said for suffering. A lot to be said for it, really. We could talk about Noakes' Central Governor, discuss how that modulates effort and perception of fatigue. But it's intuitive, really. Racing well requires sustained discomfort. You need to get used to that feeling.

You have to go down that road, and come back fine, with the hope that you're body will allow you to go a little further next time. Build immunity via repeated exposure.

This, I hope, doesn't seem like macho posturing. Because it isn't. I certainly won't tell you that I enjoy being entombed in suck for minutes on end, or that I'm capable of regularly pushing myself there. Truthfully, I'm not really ever capable of pushing myself there, strictly speaking. That's what the clock is for. And, of course, the other people racing.

So no, I don't imagine myself an embodiment of some tough guy archetype. I just want to jog a marathon I'm not embarrassed by, and that's one hell of a motivator.

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