Tabula Rosa
Or is it Tabula Rasa... Hmmmmnn, regardless - A Clean Slate - that's what you need when you start to train for another marathon.
You have to forget the pain and heartache and suffering of the last one and focus on the new, pretend that this is a fresh journey with a destination of unknown provenance. An honest Vince would admit to being terrified, but of course I can hardly wait to run under 3:30 in Kelowna in October.
Another clinic starts this evening and the rumour mill has my good friend Seymour teaching it. This is something of a conundrum (sp?) for me as Seymour teaching a clinic at the Running Room is just about the only way I can envision myself having anything to do with those corporate back-stabbing weasels, bastards, hypocrites and miscreants. I was going to train on my own with a few other friends.
I am down five pounds from my marathon weight, a pound a week as sort of planned. Like I have any idea what the fuck I am doing. A few people have even noticed a semi-leaner Vince. I ran Vancouver at 200-201 and I now cause the needle of my scale to quiver in apprehension between 195-196.
I have been doing more cross-training than running for the past month. Mostly weights for my upper body and core work, strength and flexibility.
On Sunday I went out with Rachel, speedy little bitch (3:28 in Vancouver), Patrick, a speedier little bastard (under 3:20) and Justin, one of those twenty years younger, same height as me but fifty pounds lighter little bastards who beat me in the Vancouver Marathon by about two freaking painful excruciating endless minutes. I hate them all but of course I love them and I must run with them despite all the bitter and gall that seethe within me.
Anyway, we did just under 20K (12 miles) in a pretty fast 1:50. It was the first time my legs felt good and strong and recovered since the marathon. At least until about 11 miles when I could feel the fatigue begin to creep back in along my bones.
My diet has been good. Better food choices and less of it. I tried to give up wine but all that made me do was whine. And fuck it, I need SOMETHING to look forward to during the day. A man needs a reason to go on living and the next bottle of wine strikes as being as good a reason as any.
Seymour possibly teaching the marathon clinic. My Gawd, but that is going to make for some good copy...
Joyce must have been both incredibly desperate and counting on Seymour's unassailable sense of community to come up with that one. In many ways, an inspired choice.
You have to forget the pain and heartache and suffering of the last one and focus on the new, pretend that this is a fresh journey with a destination of unknown provenance. An honest Vince would admit to being terrified, but of course I can hardly wait to run under 3:30 in Kelowna in October.
Another clinic starts this evening and the rumour mill has my good friend Seymour teaching it. This is something of a conundrum (sp?) for me as Seymour teaching a clinic at the Running Room is just about the only way I can envision myself having anything to do with those corporate back-stabbing weasels, bastards, hypocrites and miscreants. I was going to train on my own with a few other friends.
I am down five pounds from my marathon weight, a pound a week as sort of planned. Like I have any idea what the fuck I am doing. A few people have even noticed a semi-leaner Vince. I ran Vancouver at 200-201 and I now cause the needle of my scale to quiver in apprehension between 195-196.
I have been doing more cross-training than running for the past month. Mostly weights for my upper body and core work, strength and flexibility.
On Sunday I went out with Rachel, speedy little bitch (3:28 in Vancouver), Patrick, a speedier little bastard (under 3:20) and Justin, one of those twenty years younger, same height as me but fifty pounds lighter little bastards who beat me in the Vancouver Marathon by about two freaking painful excruciating endless minutes. I hate them all but of course I love them and I must run with them despite all the bitter and gall that seethe within me.
Anyway, we did just under 20K (12 miles) in a pretty fast 1:50. It was the first time my legs felt good and strong and recovered since the marathon. At least until about 11 miles when I could feel the fatigue begin to creep back in along my bones.
My diet has been good. Better food choices and less of it. I tried to give up wine but all that made me do was whine. And fuck it, I need SOMETHING to look forward to during the day. A man needs a reason to go on living and the next bottle of wine strikes as being as good a reason as any.
Seymour possibly teaching the marathon clinic. My Gawd, but that is going to make for some good copy...
Joyce must have been both incredibly desperate and counting on Seymour's unassailable sense of community to come up with that one. In many ways, an inspired choice.
posted by Vince Hemingson at 8:07 AM
4 Comments:
Glad to see you're back at it.
Vince,
I think you were right the second time - "Tabula Rasa." Good to hear that you're getting back to your old self. How goes the job hunt? My knees are still whining from the 20 on Sat - bad when it's Tuesday, and it's just starting to feel like it's subsiding. Head is finally good, but now the heat & humidity is here in earnest.
Your running club is the people there and the group atmosphere.
Damn the corporation, but love the people...
Seymour will be able to use all the help you can give him.
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