When I got home, I ate, did some work, and managed to take a 90 minute nap.
Even though this is a cutback week, I still planned on going to the track. I misread my workout for the night. I thought I was doing 1000 repeats, but no, I was doing mile repeats. 5 of them, on paper anyway. They were to be run the first 1200 at half marathon pace, the last 400 faster.
About half way through my first 1600, a pack of guys pasted me. It's a 200m track so it can get crowded. The rules of the track are posted and repeated via mic all the time. Lane 1 is for race walking only, so it's pretty much always empty. 2/3 is for people running SLOWER than 32 seconds per 200, so that's where I run. Always. 4/6 is for faster than 32 seconds and lane 6 is closed. So this pack comes by me and the lead guys says "you're too slow" and I tell him to kiss my ass. The 2nd guy turns to me and says sorry. Then the LAST guy, holding on to the pack for dear life says to me "you're too slow to be in this lane". I was like??? WTF? Is this your first time here, cause I know I'm in the right place. They were running 34s. I really wanted to just tell them to get a little faster if they wanted to run in the faster lane. I was not in the mood for this douch nozzle behavior by a buncha guys who dont know the rules of the track. I dont care how fast they are.
Anyway, back to me.
My first one was ok, 7:25. I thought that was a nice start.
Then I did a 7:24, 7:22. I was pooped. This was taking a lot more out of me then I wanted it too. Before I even started my 4th one, I sorta figured it would be my last one. This was just feeling too hard. That doesn't sound right. I didn't feel like doing 5 would be beneficial.
I was right.
Number 4 was a 7:39. I had slowed down considerably (though still within McMillan's range). So that was it. Done and done. That was enough. And I am SOOOOO ok with that. Since it's a cutback week and I wanna run the Bronx well on Sunday, I'm fine with that. The rest of the week will be easy miles which I'm looking forward to.