Flashes of Panic

In light of the blanket of snow which arrived last night and this morning, I did most of today’s run on a treadmill at the College. (Run to gym, swap to dry shoes, run on treadmill, swap shoes back, run home.) I had my HRM strap on, so just for kicks I told the treadmill to give me a heart-rate-based workout.

I probably should’ve figured out what the treadmill actually means by that first. I was clipping along slightly slower than 8:00 pace, with my heart rate hovering around 145, when it started demanding that I slow down.

This isn’t a good way of approaching someone as contrary as I am. My HR wasn’t going anywhere, so after a minute or two I started bumping the pace up whenever it asked me to slow down. Before I was halfway through the run, I was comfortably running 7:30s, HR now nicely set at 150 (and still in the green), and I found myself considering taking the pace all the way down to 6:00 and “showing this lump of silicon what ‘out of zone’ means.” Fortunately, sanity prevailed, but I was ready. Next time, you insolent chunk of plastic.

Now Playing: Snowman from Play by The Nields

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