Forgotten Monsters

Today was, supposedly, the most difficult practice of the season. I showed up late again because of class. All I knew at first was that I needed to do a triple bluff warmup. As I jogged up the final hill I noticed a few of the guys running around the north path by the edge of the bluff. By the time I'd gotten over there only a couple of them were left. I wasn't sure where the rest had gone off to. Ash told me to do 10 600's with a 1 minute jog in between each, but I had to find Russ in order to get my target splits. He wasn't by the north path so I ran out to the meadow. I had to shoot around to the starting line to finally locate him and get my splits. I was supposed to do 10 600's at 2:06 a pop. That's faster than the last time we did them, and with 30% less rest. I decided to give it a shot.

The 600's went terrible. I had such a hard time getting my legs to move up the dinky little hill just past the mud puddle that I was huffing and puffing by the time I made it to the lake. My best lap was 2:08, two seconds slower than goal pace. It also didn't help having nobody to run with, since the rest of the team was out at the meadow by this time, but Danny stopped by during his run to cheer me on for a couple of laps. After 9 of them I decided to go to the port-a-potty and make a pit stop. Coming out of the john I ran into Beth, who was waiting to get into the other one. She asked how it was going. I said I had one 600 left, then the "surprise" second half of the workout. She asked if I wanted to know what it was. I declined. One step at a time. I didn't want to worry about whatever was coming up until I'd finished those 600's.

The last 600 was faster due to the extra rest from my bathroom break, and I entered the meadow on a bit higher note. Once I got out to the starting line, however, I looked around and was unable to see anyone. For a brief moment I thought they'd all called it a day and headed in without remembering that I was still out there and needed to know what the rest of the workout was. Then I decided to go around the trees and check the south side of the field. Sure enough, a group of the guys were standing in a circle in the corner, talking to Russ. I ran over.

When I reached the group, Tyler said hi and Russ turned around with some kind of confused look on his face. "Am I about to die?" I asked. They responded by saying that it was a real possibility. Russ then said, "Oh, I forgot about you."

Great. I was in the middle of the hardest workout all year, and my coach had forgotten that I existed. Am I that hard to notice?

Anyway, Russ told me to go to the starting line and do 1 mile as fast as I could. He emphasized that it needed to be "all-out." This would not be fun. I could do it though. "Ok," I said. I would bust this out and be done. "Is that all then?"

"No, you've got 1 mile all out and then 5 minutes, then there's one more thing."

I started laughing and headed for the start. At this point I had lost enough of my sanity to stop caring about little things like shin splints, aching knees, and intestinal distress. It was time to let that monster out and make my body do things it really didn't want to.

I started the mile at a quick pace, reaching the 400 mark in about 1:16. Not actually fast at all, but considering that I was running in the meadow (as opposed to the track) and had already done what was essentially an entire workout by itself, I was content. By the time I got to the 800 I had slowed down, however, rolling through at 2:44. Just as I checked my watch, I suddenly heard the voice of Russ shouting motivational comments that I can no longer recall. He was all the way on the other side of the meadow with a megaphone. I turned the corner and went east along the edge by the woods, passing the other guys as they did part of their cooldown. They all shouted encouragement and told me to let out the monster. I went through the 1200 in 4:07 (why can't I do that every day in practice?) and passed the starting line where Russ was standing, still hurling motivation at me. A few more of the guys were now at the northeast corner, blasting yet more words of motivation as I sprinted the last 200 meters. I finally reached the end and looked at my watch: 5:29. What?! Five minutes and twenty-nine seconds?! That's so...slow! So much effort for such a crummy time?

I went back to the start and reported my time to Russ. He then told me to go jog around for five minutes. I did. When I got back, he instructed me to do one more 800. The catch was that I had to be under 2:40. Or else. Or else what, I'm not sure. I just had to do it. And I knew I could.

I went to the starting line one last time. With a burst of speed I took off and tore around the first corner with no desire for anything except pain. After cruising down the hill I passed the 400 in 1:12. Perfect. I was about 8 seconds ahead of pace. All I had to do was hold it. For 400 meters. Not that hard. Piece of cake.

As I went up the next little hill I felt my legs start to die. No! I couldn't let this happen! Not now, legs! I thought to myself. Just hang in there for another minute! I started praying that my body would hold together.

Turning the next corner, I caught sight of my teammates. They were standing at intervals all along the remaining 200 meters. Each one yelled as I passed, encouraging me to blast it to the finish. With those guys screaming at me on both sides, I smashed myself into oblivion up the final hill, sprinting to the end with every ounce of strength that remained in my body. I crossed the line (actually it's a traffic cone, but whatever) and walked for a few seconds to catch my breath. I then bent over, looking at my watch to see if I'd succeeded in destroying 2:40.

It said 2:31. I screamed a warrior's victory cry.