One aspect of track that's been a steady "up" is the friendships I've built with the "track girls". They've been so motivational to me, have pulled me along through some tough intervals, and we get to chit chat during the recoveries. This camaraderie has spilled over into our weekends, where we've been getting together for early morning long runs!
|Kerri, Julia, Marie, Coleen, Jackie and I heading out for a 12 miler|
On my long drive home from work last night I felt a headache coming on, and by the time I got home it was pounding. I quickly changed into running clothes, downed a couple of Motrin, and headed out to track. I can't say I was really looking forward to the workout, but I was looking forward to the peacefulness of the track. When I got to track and hopped out of the car, I heard a repetitive drumming noise. Oh HELL no, it couldn't be... As I got closer to the track, my fear was confirmed. The entire Milford High School marching band was practicing on the infield of the track. The drum beat was in sync with the pounding in my head, so I was thankful that our warm up mile was off the track.
Our coach Rich wasn't there last night so Jay was in charge, enforcing the workout that Rich had created. I announced that I wouldn't be attaining any "Jill world records" tonight, and that I was running slower so that I could finish the workout this time. With overwhelming understanding and compassion, Jay jokingly responded, "Interesting strategy, I don't think it will be very beneficial". We can joke around before and after the workout, but on the track he is all business and no amount of our whining could elicit any sympathy from him.
The workout Rich created (and was conveniently absent for) was 400, 800, 800, 800, 800, 400. The first 400 was fairly painless, all of us holding back considerably knowing what we had ahead of us. My time was 1:41, and I was okay with that. We settled into the 800's and that's where it started to hurt. Jackie and Coleen surged ahead and I tucked in behind Paul, which proved to be a good strategy for the rest of the workout. The first 800 was a 3:44, and Jay told me to get a 3:42 next time. As if I have any idea how to "make that happen". I have zero sense of pace. I run as well as I can, and hope it's a respectable time when I cross the finish. The second 800 was a little screwy because Paul confused me by staying behind me. I think he was trying to conserve energy and it really made me wonder if I was going out too fast. We finished that one in 3:39, and I was shocked that I went a full five seconds faster. The third 800 we resumed the Paul-Jill order, an again we shaved another five seconds off and finished in 3:34 (a new Jill world record!). At this point I felt like I was unraveling a bit. I was dying for this last 800 to be over. I may have mentioned that at the start line. Jay may have responded with, "this is the last one, so you have to push harder this time". If I could have formed words at that moment I may have given him a piece of my mind, but instead he said "Go!" and we went! Once again Jackie and Coleen surged ahead and I tried to stick with Paul, but he started pulling away after 600 meters. In the final stretch I closed in on him and felt a terrible queasiness in my stomach. Don't think about it, just run. Push. Do it. Don't suck. As we barreled down the straightaway I amused myself by noting the band practicing on the infield, playing some motivating music. While my legs churned I observed the darkness settling in around the track, the perfect orange lanes illuminated with ultra-strong lights on the field. I felt athletic. I felt like a bona-fide athlete under the bright lights, with the band playing just for me. I pushed through the nausea and about ten feet before I crossed the finish line, I watched Coleen veer into the infield, double over, and hurl blue Gatorade all over the field. In a feat of impressive multi-tasking, I started gagging but managed to cross the finish line, press the lap button on the Garmin, veer off to the outside of the track, brace against the chain link fence, and hurl my own water all over the grass. I remained doubled over for about 20 or so seconds until I felt somewhat sure I was done, and looked up to see Coleen and Jackie checking on me. I laughed and gave them a thumbs up, and trotted up to them. The whole throwing up thing was completely overshadowed by the fact that my finishing time was 3:31!! Totally shattering the previous Jill world record! We jogged about 3/4 around the track for our recovery, and then started walking in the straightaway. It was at that moment that I remembered that all 75 members of the marching band (playing just for me, the amazing track star) were faced in our direction, most likely perplexed and disturbed by the old ladies that just threw up all over their brand new track in front of them. As we started giggling about that, we spotted Jay at the start line, throwing his arms up in a "what the hell are you guys doing" motion. We yelled to him that we both just threw up. His sympathetic response was, "So? You're not throwing up right now! Move it!" We grumbled, and I announced that this final 400 was going to be untimed for me. I was cooked. Coleen responded, "C'mon, it's just one more. You can do it!". So, we lined up and took off. (Wisely I opted not to drink before this last interval). In the first turn Coleen blew past us and Jackie said, "She's going to make herself puke again. Oh it's going to happen". We laughed and finished strong, and as I was approaching the finish line I again spotted Coleen hurling onto the grass. I stopped my watch and blew past the finish line, trying to avoid my own repeat performance. I was excited to see my final 400 was a 1:35, tying the Jill world record from last week! What a strong way to finish!
We all met back up on the track and then headed out for our cool down mile. In an effort to display a zero-mercy policy, Jay took us on an extended cool down, up a big hill and through a neighborhood. Despite all the puking, somehow we all managed to have a great time and shared some good laughs.
As for the puking, for me it was a proud moment! It wasn't the result of a bad meal, one beer too many, or anxiety. It was the outcome of giving everything I had in a sport that I love. When I hopped back into my car to head home, headache gone, stomach still unsettled, the first thing I did was text someone who would understand: Scott! The text said simply, "I did it!! I puked at track!!" His response was, "that's awesome, congrats! That's a rite of passage!". He gets it! And while I'm proud of this bizarre accomplishment, it's a record that I'm hoping I don't get in the habit of breaking.
*Everything I said about Jay was only half true.