Having not gone to yesterday's velocity because of a migraine (an annoying, frustrating, painful, bothersome mirgraine), I desperately wanted to do something today. The headache was still lingering, though, so, really, not much was going to happen again today. Except that, crap, something, anything, right?
So, when Doyle sent out today's track workout, I figured it was an omen. I went.
I missed the warm up run, but managed a quick lap, and jumped in the with form running. My achilles was hurting a LOT on the warm up lap, and the form running was nearly impossible. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
The plyos were straight forward, and pretty short, with the single leg ankle raises being really the only problem I had (well, and the girlie pushups, but I'm saving myself for tomorrow).
2 sets of 15 pushups
2 sets of 15 lunges each leg
2 sets of 20 squats
2 sets of 15 tuck jumps
2 sets of 25 single leg ankle raises
2 sets ice skaters of 14 leaps, 7 each leg
Next came the real reason we were here, eh? The sprints.
Four each of five different sprint lengths, types and rest times.
1. 0 to 40m sprint, rest 30 seconds in between
2. 0 to 25m to 0, rest 45 seconds in between
3. 10m to 0m to 40m, rest 45 seconds in between
4. 0 to 25m to 0 to 25m to 0, rest 60 seconds in between
5. 0 to 10m to 0 running backwards to 40m to 0, rest 60 seconds in between
Andy, Doyle, Shirley, Jason and Warren were at the track, with Tyler showing up for the sprints, who cares about the plyos at the beginning, eh?
I was, expectedly, the slowest of our group. If I tried really hard, ran all out, I could sorta, kinda, maybe, a little bit keep up with the group, where "keep up" means "finish withing 3 meters of the person in front of me." I realized fairly quickly that neither my achilles, nor my fitness were going to let me keep up that pace, with the achilles stopping me from where the heart wanted to go.
I tried stretching between runs and between sets, but wasn't able to get my calves and achilles loose. After the first three sets, I was ready to be done. I was just done. All the doubts, all the frustrations, all the disappointment of the last few months settled into my achilles, and I wanted to just stop.
I don't know why I kept running. I did. I finished the workout an embarrassingly far distance behind everyone else, but I finished.
Those first few steps back are hard. I hate that I'm slow. I hate that I'm perpetually injured. I hate how far off I am from what i was. I hate that I'm frustrated. I think that fundamentally, I hate that I ended up in the middle. I am, of course, on the decline. I was never a star, never more than an okay player, solid in most respects, weak in others, and never a star.
Of course, everyone can't be a star. "If everyone's special, no one is," or something like that. I don't even know if I'd like the mini-stardom being a great player brings. I would have liked, however, to be good at something, and have known that I was good at it. To have that feeling of complete self-assurance, self-confidence, and a complete lack of self-doubt.
I finished the workout. Good for me.