The Sound (of Dr. Dre) and the (Lack of) Fury

Today I did 5+ Ambassador Hill repeats. The “+” means that, at the top of each hill, I would turn the corner to the right and run tempo for about another 100 meters or so before slowing down. Then I would turn right again downhill and circle back around at the bottom. Then rinse and … you guessed the rest. Each hill was about 400m and the entire loop close to a mile.

I did 4.5 loops this way. The .5 was the last uphill, which I decided to just kill myself on. I don’t know why; I started the workout intending to take it easy because I was tired, but somehow I got all riled up during that fourth loop and thought I would just blow it out. I had been running the uphills at about 2:08-2:12. The last one was 1:57. YES! (That’s for you, Matt.)

On the way up the last hill, I found myself wishing, as I often do at moments where I need some intensity, that I were an angrier person. I felt like, if I were more filled with rage (even at some deep, subconscious level), then it could be an asset for me when I need to do something really tough. I often feel that my willingness to accept life as it comes allows me to be a little wussy when it comes to pushing through pain. I can talk myself out of nearly anything. I say things like, “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” or “Don’t worry. You tried your best.”

Having a perpetually positive attitude can kill you in a competition, despite what they say. I need to develop my negative ‘tude.

Last year, I saw this in action. When I fell apart in the last few miles of the Houston marathon, I kept urging myself, “Get mad!” It was my last ditch attempt to unearth some energy, some spark in my battered legs. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find much to be enraged about by then – other than the fact that I couldn’t get mad.

So today I put on Dr. Dre to get me in the mood on that last hill; I thought maybe I could latch onto some of his chauvinistic rage, but somehow, hearing about how many houses and vehicles he had just wasn’t lighting the spark in me.

So on the way up, I considered (thoughtfully, of course) what to be angry about. I thought that injustice in Africa was a good one (because I do believe that, more than anything else, that is what we should be railing against), so I worked on that. Unfortunately, I just couldn’t drum up the emotion. It didn't help that every Malawian around me was grinning and giving me thumbs-up as I panted by. Grrrrr!

But other traits seem to be bringing progress. I have been really committed to running lately – not obsessive, like I get sometimes (I think that is due to giving myself enough time to train). I should log just at about 50 miles this week, and I did 13 Sunday with more than half at marathon goal pace. 7.5 miles at MGP is not a stellar accomplishment – especially when I know I have to get up to more than 26. But I can benchmark it against my past training; last year, at 12 weeks out from the race, I still had a hard time running 5 at MGP. Right now I still have 19 weeks until Houston.

This time around with marathon training, I am upping everything. Just a little bit (another example of the peace-loving moderate in me). My time at Houston in 2006 was 3:32 – just a little bit slower than the 3:30 I was aiming for. So I figure that if I simply dial up the training time, the mileage, and the intensity, I will be ok.

Of course now I find out that Danny and Matt are running Bandera 100k the week before Houston – and there is a fantastic 50k there that I have been wanting another shot at. Maybe I can get my 3:30 at another race, I am already thinking.

I am such a sucker. And that makes me furious.