Yesterday, I held my last pre-Broadstreet speed workout. Or at least the last intense one; Since the race is in a mere 2 weeks, I need to start easing up.

It was already dark, and I could barely distinguish the track’s faded lines. My stomach was empty– I should have been eating dinner– but I was strangely focused. I wanted to increase my speed before the race, and I think a part of me knew that this was my last chance. So when I actually started pumping out 1k repeats, I surprised myself with my splits:

Split times (5x1000m, 400m jog rest)
3:19
3:20
3:15
3:12
3:09

Not bad for me.

I should also say that this was my first real workout in the Mizuno Mushas. They felt GREAT. I was worried that they would provide too much support for my neutral feet and make my knees and hips sore. No such problem. My stride felt light and powerful, and free of pain. The Mushas have passed my test.

They did not, however, do anything to curb my hunger.

Well, I am an official track coach.

Up to this point, it’s really not so hard to believe. I’m a respectable distance runner. I’ve competed in most everything between the mile and the fifty mile. I’ve worked as a volunteer with both the boys’ cross-country and track teams.

The unbelievable part, the terrifying, deep-left part of this whole thing is that I’m not officially coaching runners.

I’m a jumping coach.

A week ago, when I applied for the position, I knew nothing about jumping. Since then, I’ve been poring over textbooks on each event. Hopefully my book learning will translate into practical knowledge, and I’ll be able to help these kids. I’m just starting to feel confident that I can.

Please forgive the recent lack of updates; my time’s being poured into these books. Long-term readers probably know that it’s not my style to half-ass anything. I’m going to be the best coach possible, so that I can produce the best athletes possible.

Our first practice is tomorrow. Wish me luck.

I have officially resigned from the track team.

I will be student teaching this spring, which means that I have the work load of a full-time teacher (with no pay). Trying to do this and track at the same time would be possible, but one of the two pursuits would suffer. My impractical side wanted to try both, but reason eventually won out. I need to teach well more than I need to have another semester running with the team.

That last bit’s important; I will still be running, just not with the team. In fact, I’ll probably be running more than ever soon. No track means I don’t have to waste time training for the two-mile. I can finally get to the marathon training that’s always appealed to me.

That’s right. I’ll finally join most of my readers on the long (long, long) lonely road of marathon training. At least in a month or so. For now I’m just going to focus on getting back in shape and ramping my mileage back up.

My team and I spent the weekend in New Jersey. But we were not at all in the same place.

You see, we were scheduled to go to The College of New Jersey (TCNJ)’s track meet, but I left to instead spend Easter Break with family. I was therefore warm and cozy in my grandparents’ house in Long Beach Island while my team sat, wet and shivering, in TCNJ’s parking garage.

I’m not gloating; that last part makes me feel sorry. After all, we’re a team. We suffer together. We wouldn’t be so close if we didn’t regularly endure such abuse—as a team. To have not been there and given my support makes me feel like I let people down.

But my family’s important to me, and Easter is one of few times during the year when we can all get together. To blow that off for another race—one of hundreds in which I’ve already competed—just didn’t make sense. Despite my romantic ideas of team unity, I couldn’t justify it to myself.

So I spent a few days training on a little barrier island off of NJ’s coast. I ran 12 miles up and down its main street (which resembled nothing so much as a rainy wind tunnel) and then rebuilt my body with scrapple and beer. And though I coudn’t be with my team, I’m pretty happy with my break.

Most of my team spent last Friday afternoon on the track, doing an endurance workout. This by itself would hardly be newsworthy (even post-in-an-obscure-blog-worthy). But two of my teammates did something that I think deserves mention.

The workout, called “Endless 2′s,” is one that I’d never heard of before coming to college. My coach swears by it, though- he says that it’s great for building endurance. This drill centers around doing many, many 200-meter sprints with little rest in between. Most of the team usually does about 20 sprints before they’re done. Coach has me do low 30′s.

These two friends of mine, though, decided that they weren’t going to settle for reasonable (when do we ever, right?). They were out for a new record. Coach had told us before that one of his runners once did 50 sprints on this workout; respectable, but beatable.

51 sprints later, the battered remains of my friends accompanied us to a lovely cafeteria dinner. One almost fell asleep in the middle of his meal. The other was high as a kite on endorphins. They had averaged a 30-31 second pace on all of their 200′s- not much slower than my fastest sprint.

So, Connor and Pete, Here’s to you guys- For not letting reason get in the way of a great workout.