Speed Work (2014)

Kenyan distance runner Kip Lagat once said when asked why his country produces so many great runners “It’s the road signs, 'Beware of Lions'." 

Every competitive runner tries to improve his or her time, to “run a better split” which in layman’s terms translates to run a shorter time over a pre-determined distance. In the U.S. we measure minutes/mile - most of the rest of the world measures in kilometers.  Regardless of the measurement used, the idea is the same: you try to improve your own time, or beat the competition across the finish line. 

I was never that serious a runner - I actually sort of fell into it when a friend needed a running partner for a Valentine’s Day race in Bradford. I was 30 years old.  

But working seventy plus hours per week, leaving little time to switch off, running quickly became my form of meditation, and when life threw me lemons, the distance increased from six kilometers to 13.1 miles. I stopped running with music, and instead let the pitter patter of my feet transcend me to a peaceful state of mind where I thought of nothing at all, yet somehow, I gained a lot of clarity. I ran my first half marathon in 2002. 

Twelve years of running meditation ensued. It was, as a fellow runner put it:  “it was not about the time I ran; it was about the time I had running”. I read somewhere that 80% of runners have sustained some form of injury in their “career” of running. I was no exception. After a stress fracture and knee surgery (unrelated to running) I finally got smarter and listened to my body: I started cross training and I entered my first triathlon in 2012 (also somewhat by chance, and a  “Why not?” attitude). 

Earlier this year I relocated for work, and joined the local triathlon team, primarily for social reasons. It’s not easy moving to a new town by yourself. Especially not when you have already put in your years socializing after work with co-workers over a bunch of drinks. 

Birds chirping, I jogged down to the track early one morning for my first track workout. My first ever track workout. I saw a small group of women come around the cinder track, one turning her head and blowing hard to clear her nose, snot rockets flying everywhere. Triathletes. It takes one to know one.  

After a quick introduction to the track, related etiquette and an explanation of the prescribed workout (who knew one lap is 800 meters!?), we completed the set, doing the best we could, egging each other on, pushing ourselves to go faster, to do better.

The summer went by, our track workouts occasionally broken up by a trail run. The other women had fancy watches telling them the exact pace they ran- I just did the best I could, but noticed I was getting stronger and faster, chasing the heels of the two fastest runners in the group.

Proof is in the pudding, and the improvement took me by surprise in my favorite race: the Wallis Sands Triathlon in Rye Beach, NH: After swimming ⅓ of a mile, and cycling 14.5 miles I ran 5km with an average pace of 7.08 minutes/mile - well over a minute faster/mile compared to the same race two years prior.

So if you are looking to get faster, move to Kenya or go to the track.