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Into a cool blue stream »

With all of these crazy workouts, you might think I'm actually training for something.

I kicked off the weekend by doing the Hill Run with friends on Friday night. This run travels about 7 miles of city streets, staircases and trails. It's known to some members of my triathlon club as the Pill Run for the way it makes your legs feel the next day. Any running route in San Francisco encouters plenty of hills; to single out a route for being especially hilly is kind of a joke. We scaled and descended lots of stairs; we dodged much poison oak; we gained and lost many feet of elevation. At sea level in the Mission we saw clear, starry skies. At the top of Twin Peaks, we marveled at the fog that flowed over and around us in the stiff wind like cottony clouds descended to earth.

On Saturday, still sore from Friday, I joined some other friends for a 60-mile bike ride, which didn't seem like a big deal. But I sorta forgot that I haven't ridden more than 45 miles since June, once, and that 60 miles hurts when your butt isn't ready for it. And that little 20-minute run I did after the ride probably wasn't necessary.

This morning, still sore from yesterday and the day before, I embarked on a bit of excessive adventure. Julie wanted to do an epic 12-ish-mile trail run that I had talked up a few weeks ago. But I was hoping to run 15 or 16 miles this weekend, since I have my eye on running a December marathon. So I planned to run to the start at the Golden Gate Bridge (which is 5 miles from home), meet her there, do the run, and have her drive me home. I figured that would get me to two and a half hours of running, maybe 2:40. I didn't do the math.

By the time I ran there, found Julie (who was delayed by no fault of her own), did the epic trail run (which was more like 13 miles and included a steady 30-minute climb), and got back to her car, I had been running for nearly three hours and 20 minutes. I ran maybe 18 miles, with a lot of slow climbing and tenderfooted descending. Ouch ouch ouch.

I am just asking to get injured. But now, 9 or so hours later, I'm walking almost normally again.

Why this burst of heavy-duty training after a post-Ironman summer of leisurely weekend activites peppered with occasional workouts? I recently signed up for two multisporty events. The first is an Olympic-distance triathlon... which is in two weeks. The second is a duathlon a few weeks after that. I'm cramming.

I have plenty of fitness and endurance left over from the first half of the year to finish both events. So now I want to feel like I've trained for them, at least a little. I know I won't gain any fitness in two weeks; I just hope to feel a little less rusty by then.

And I have to admit that all of the sudden it's fun again. Beating the crap out of my legs is fun again.

September 18, 2005 10:00 PM