I have a saying that I use with my athletes when we have a hard work-out, I say, "Boys, you know you've had a great work-out when you go home and crap out your intestines!" Today I must have had a great work-out running 16 X 400 meter repeats. With a quick dash home from the track, flying through the back door grabbing both Running Times and Track and Field News, this is going to take awhile, not only did I crap out my intestines, I'm sure I felt my spleen and left kidney slip on out as well. By the time it was all said and done, I am sure I was responsible for half of the Brazilian Rain Forrest being chopped down, a new hole in the ozone layer and caused all those who own stock in Charmin to be filthy rich! Talk about your porcelain rodeo! Whooo doggy, I'm not sure which worked over my old body the most, the track or the aftermath? One thing for certain, it wasn't pretty.
Work-outs like today's always fascinate me in how I respond to the distress caused from pushing your body. Although I was running at much slower pace than decades ago, the same effort was put forth as when I was 24 and I found myself being transformed into this Jekyll and Hyde character that only shows up in long, grueling efforts. Today's work-out called for a short 200 meter jog between each 400 repeat, which is not a very long time to regroup yourself, so it forces you to learn to be very economic in your running form and learn to relax during the hard efforts, but once you hit the 200 jog, it is like a drowning man getting is first taste of oxygen rich air as he spews deathly salt laced fluid from his depths. The funny thing is, the 400's are the easiest part on me mentally in the midst of the undertaking. Dr. Jekyll calmly whispers, relax, lift your knees, control, control, you've done this a million times, almost there, relax, there you go." But then on the recovery Mr. Hyde is waiting.
I have never figured out where this sinister alter ego comes from and he never shows up until about a third of the way into the work-out when the body is starting to feel the stress. But without fail, he raises his ugly head and the self-loathing begins. When working out with a group, Mr. Hyde stays just within my head, but when I go at by myself...Without fail, I begin to speak out loud, "Come on b#$*@. You think that hurts, wait until the next one. Come on you dirty filthy b#$*@." Where did this jerk come from and why am I calling myself a female dog? And why am I saying it out loud? Am I going nuts? And for 200 meters the voice of pain and doubt taunts me to give in and give up and then the mental games begin. One more I tell myself, I can gut out one more. Dr. Jekyll reappears and guides me forward, then Mr. Hyde with his evil deeds, mental games, and repeat. No wonder my stomach is turned into a slushy mess.
And so home I go after the task and flush Jekyll and Hyde down the sewer, along with a few feet of my entrails and await until we meet again next week. As always, stay healthy, keep running, and a financial tip, buy stock in toilet paper!
No comments:
Post a Comment