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Lap Dancing

All my hill work, fartlek training, sprinting and general flagellation seems to be paying off.

So it turns out I’m fast, but not easy.

Yes folks, it seems all that hill work, fartlek training, sprinting and general flagellation is paying off. Last Saturday I ran 6K in 29:58, today 29:53.  To put that into perspective, this time last year I would have been more excited than Richard Simmons at a seniors dance to run 5K in the same time.

Last night, Dr Stevil took my running group to the track.  In expectation of the sprint training ahead, I stood silent at the starting line as he explained what was about to unfold.  The tension was rising, matched by wisps of steam in the air – at least until I realized I’d left a clothes dryer sheet in my pants…these days I dress in a rush.

Depending on what race we were training for, we were all about to undertake different drills. My pace buddy is following the Hamilton Marathon plan so I thought I’d skip mine, follow his and avoid suffering solo. After all, worst case I would do a little more than needed right? Wrong.

After doing 4x400m sprints, 2x800m, then 4x400m, I wheezed my way over to my guru’s running book to ensure I had appropriately over-extended myself. To my horror I found I had 1x1600m to go. Needless to say, at that  moment I would have rather watched Heidi Montag’s music video on endless repeat than CRAWL another mile, but I ran it. What’s more, I ran it in 7:18, I dare say, not bad for this 5’5, 145lbs (when I stand on the scale naked, starving and with one leg draped over the towel rail) gal.

Even more exciting, for a fleeting moment last night, I actually saw a “3:45” pace on my Garmin. Except for the time I put on fur coveralls and ran through a PETA convention yelling “I’m wearing your pet bunny”, I have NEVER been able to move my body that fast.

In an ironic twist – yours truly was mentioned in a Globe and Mail article yesterday, for of all things… NOT running. The article exposed my deep love for the taper and perhaps more importantly, has convinced my husband to be just a little bit more supportive the next time I say “I’m sorry, I can’t put down this Big Mac and get my butt off the couch. I’m busy training for my next marathon.”

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