Sunday, August 17


He paced slowly. His hands already perched on his hips as he tried to bring his laboured breathing under control. Sweat poured down his face, tracing toward this chin before falling away into an abyss. In a city where winters are damp but mild, and summers are pleasantly warm at best, today brought the arrival weatherman trying to fry an egg on the pavement.

After a short reprieve he cautiously approached the kilometer marker prepared to tackle his final interval. He stood motionless, and then gradually, unapparent at first, he leaned forward, his legs compressing before driving ahead.

Although his turnover was quick, his gait looked uneven, rough, like a child hopping on a bike for the first ride of summer. He powered down the tree lined trail, branches from opposite sides joining overhead, his private passageway of pain. The next marker passes and then he slows, before circling back and coming to rest. He is bent over, his chest heaving as sweat continues to pour down as a smile, barely visible between gasps, begins to creep over his face.

[Without having performed a recent time trial or race I had little idea of my fitness. I hoped, perhaps unrealistically, that I could knock off a 36’ 10k and therefore aimed to split my repeats in 3:40-3:43.]

My times were as follows: 3:37, 3:40, 3:37, 3:40, 3:39, 3:41, 3:44 & 3:39


Thursday: 1:04:29 with 8x1k tempo (1’)
Friday: day off (unscheduled, took the long way home on the bike; Marc would be proud knowing I didn't wear red shorts)
Saturday: easy 2:46:27 with the clinic
Sunday: 1:01:08 with 8x(2' (1'), 1' (30"), 30") (30")