Flashes of Panic

Coach picked up on an offhand comment I made a few weeks ago, and since we moved indoors, he has been setting me up with shorter and, generally, faster workouts. I’ve had my spikes on and spent the bulk of the repetitions up on my toes. And, as I noted a few weeks ago, I’m having fun with it.

I have a naturally long stride, perhaps a little longer than is really efficient for my leg length. I don’t have the turnover for the long sprints, nor the efficiency to be a really comfortable long-haul runner (marathons, for example, are a bad idea for me.) My natural distance on the road is probably somewhere between the half-marathon and the 10K, but the races that feel best are still the middle distances on the track, where I get to unroll my legs and indulge my urge to go fast.

We’re looking at the three “mini meets” that Boston University hosts, usually the last three Saturdays in December. I figure I may be able to hit the first one, a week from this Saturday, and possibly also the third. We talked tonight about distances, and I said, “Why don’t I just take on the mile?”

“That’s what I was going to suggest,” he said.

“I think I have more fun as a slow miler than as a faster long-distance guy,” I said.

Of course, my results tend to be better in the longer distances. “I figure racing some miles might get you a faster 3,000m,” riposted Coach.

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