Today’s run was a 2 mile warm up, 12 x 1:00 on, 1:00 off, then a 1 mile cool down.

Any speed work is hard in my eyes, but fartleks are the easiest of them all in my opinion because there really isn’t a pace I aim to hit – I just run them based on wanting to be able to complete all of the reps + a cool down. When you add up the amount of “hard” running it really isn’t much at all compared to a long tempo run {my personal favorite}. 12 minutes I reasoned with my mind was a very reasonable and manageable amount of speed work based on where I’m at right now.

Ran the 2 mile warm up and then stopped to pee before beginning the speed part. I hate stopping on runs, but I’ve had 3 kids, so yeah it happens.

12 repeats looked like this {note: this is the average pace – these were 1 minute repeats – not 1 mile :) }

  • 7:06
  • 7:01
  • 6:04
  • 6:26
  • 6:40
  • 6:31
  • 6:32
  • 6:50
  • 7:24
  • 7:18
  • 6:49
  • 7:06

Thoughts on the run were that it’s really hard to think about anything other than running during a speed workout. I haven’t consistently done weekly speed work in I don’t know how long, so today was a nice reminder that I actually enjoy not being able to think about anything but running. It’s probably the only period of time that my mind shuts up.

I started to feel ick on the last split, not speed work ick, but ick like if this workout wasn’t over immediately the dizziness was going to come.

I drank coffee before the run and lately I’ve been feeling disgusting every time I have it. Yet I want it, like really really want it. I have a zillion different boxes of tea in my cabinets and I fear I need to start drinking more tea, less coffee. I felt great last time I quit coffee, but returned to drinking it because I felt deprived of such a simple pleasure. I need to get it through my head though that if it doesn’t make me feel good, it’s not really being deprived, I’m loving myself enough to stop hurting myself…which is easy to say on paper, but not so easy to put in to place.

Checking out my splits post run I almost, almost started to compare myself.

 

I could have compared myself to my speedier self from a couple of years ago. I could have lamented that I weigh exactly 20 pounds more than her.

I could have compared myself to my slower self from ten plus years ago who would have been overjoyed to see a 7 much less a 6 in front of a speed number even if that amount of time was only for a minute. I could have compared myself to that girl and thought about how I am over 15 pounds less than what she weighed.

I could also just stop thinking about weight all together. I am realizing more and more if I want to raise a daughter who doesn’t give two shits about the number on the scale, then I too have to not care about it. I’m stronger, eat better, and am generally happier than I have been in the past. I don’t want to define myself by a number on a clock or a number on a scale ever again.

Comparisons suck the life out of the present.

I am not who I was once was – in the good ways and the bad ways {I am forever a work in progress}. These days I look at who I am in the now, in this present moment. I’d say all things considered the fact I even made it through a workout, even if it was a relatively easy one, was fantastic.

 

Dorothy Beal 4

and an old picture because I didn’t take a single picture today of anything, which has to be some sort of record for me…

 

When I don’t compare myself to myself I’m much happier.

Have I told you lately how much I love running? xoxo Dorothy

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