On being really damn slow

Today I went to my Triathlon Club running workout. Coach seems real good, and allayed my fears about my heartrate by referring me to an article on his website. But I have really jumped into the deep end here. I’m training with athletes who are way above my level, and that’s good. I have room to grow and these are all people that can help me along. Everyone’s a beginner at some point.

I kind of wish my high school had a track or cross-country team. I think I might have really gotten into it then. Instead, I’m getting into it now.

After the warm-ups and the exercises, we got to jump in to intervals, which is something I’ve been wanting to try for a while. I was placed in a “slow” team of people that do 7:30 miles in the 5K. I can do 9:30 miles. Eventually I realized (the coach noticed me huffing and puffing and pointed out to me) that trying to stay up with them was just too much for me. So I dripped down and interval training turned into slow, then rest, then slow until I finished the set.

Then I came home—walked from Kezar over the hill to my apartment—and my legs are hurting like I don’t remember them ever hurting. It’s all just muscle soreness, so I’m not worried, but I’m impressed that an hour workout that wasn’t even all running would be so intense.

It’s a good thing, yeah, but I am tired. Too tired to eat, and that’s NOT a good thing. I’d better go downstairs and eat.