Wednesday, February 25, 2009

"ça a été...?"

Generally after a workout in France as you were bent over at 90 degrees gasping for breath "ça a été...?" would be the words you'd hear. Thankfully one word, one syllable, three letters would suffice as an answer, dûr. The phrase "ça a été...?" came back to me last night as I was labouring my way through the 8 x 600m session. For the final four of them the words kept going through my head like a weird mantra.

The before plan was to go into yesterday's session and do it within myself, at about 70%. At no stage was I to feel like I was racing. This was all well and good until the session actually started. I was in with the front lads and knew that as it was my first session back I'd just stay to the rear, a few metres off the pace, and get through the session without feeling like I pushed myself too much. All this went out the window when they started. I was to the rear, a fair whack off the other lads, but really pushing to actually be classed as in the same group. So while my positioning was as I planned, my pacing was way above what I should have gone out at. I never thought I'd have to go that fast to hang at the back. The legs are feeling fairly tight today after it, so I have to be sure to take it easy, very easy, over the next two days. There's times when training will call for me to dig deep and run fast, last night was not a time when I should have.
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