They say there are five stages of grieving, and by my own accounts that theory checks out. I’ve entered my fifth week of serious world record training and I am only now realizing that I’ve been in a spell of complete denial.
I’ve denied that the human body simply cannot run 1:59.99 for 800 meters.
WELL GUESS WHAT ASS-HOLE? I’ve moved on to the period of anger.
Anger at physics, physiology, and every bile-spewing e-troll who’s tried to remind me of that fact. To paraphrase my favorite boxer, Rocky Balboa, “Don’t tell a bug it can’t fly just because it don’t got wings. Look at all them flyin’ bugs out there.”
Monday, March 6th
Desperately needing some R&R (rest & relaxation) after a weekend of fast-paced R&R (rock ‘n’ roll) livin’ I listened to my exhausted body and just jogged four miles with Jeanne.
Tuesday, March 7th
To avoid developing a muscular imbalance while running with my iPhone, I decided to take this puppy to the treadmill, where my motivational playlists won’t throw off my balance, and will encourage, as intended. While listening to Van Halen’s “Jump” at ¼-speed, I did a three mile tempo (5:30, 5:30, 5:00), dry-heaved for some time and then did six strides on the track outside.
Wednesday, March 8th:
Presumably still mentally incapacitated from yesterday’s effort, I know I jogged with my friend Tommy, but don’t remember much else. (Runner’s Amnesia again, FML.)
Thursday, March 9th:
Not bad, not bad. The weather was unseasonably warm, and I inhaled a ton of dust, only compounding the oxygen-depletion benefits of my altitudal living arrangement.
Friday, March 10th:
Slept in my spikes last night, because I wanted to acclimate my feet to the rigors they’d be facing on the track. Consulted with my random number generator, but re-vamped my workout on the fly: 600m (1:41), 400m (1:03), 200m (:28), 200m (:29), 400m (:59). Panted for half an hour after.
Saturday, March 11th:
I may not have been able to walk, but I was able to jog. Three miles on the day AND NO DAYS OFF.
Sunday, March 12th:
A day off.
Things are heating up.
And that’s good, because my time trial was originally slated for April 20th, but has since been shifted up a week due to unforeseen travel needs coming up. Better call the airlines, because sub-two or not, they’re gonna have to ship me to Nashville in a body bag.
This is the sixth post in a series by Paul chronicling his journey to break the two-minute barrier in the 800 meters. Check out his previous post below: