This post was going to be about all the new-to-me training methods the Zebra Poacher has been springing on me. Sessions on my schedule have included such instructions as "SMASH THIS."
Doesn't he know that I don't smash anything, let alone in capital letters?
But my interpretation of smash I did, and after the initial anxiety of abject pain and failing to meet my own idea of what I should be able to do, I thought of these sessions as a game to learn about myself and find my current limits and weaknesses.
And an opportunity to get back to former training locations, like...dun...dun...dununh....the track.
This post was going to be about all the previously unknown to me soul-searching and teeth-gritting and mental spaces that new training and testing has forced me to discover: "Please, someone pinch me so I can wake up from the nightmare of these next few minutes."
And then my run yesterday happened.
It was late afternoon on an early January day. A bright sunny day with a light breeze. I was working hard, running laps around a track as high-school aged boys tried to brain me with soccer balls. And I was wearing a short-sleeve shirt because it was 70+ degrees outside. In the late afternoon of an early January day.
This post ended up being about all the previously unknown to me enjoyment that new training and testing has allowed me to experience: "Please, someone pinch me so I can know if this is real."