No Stress Six
From Saturday, 2.24.2007 - 6 miles:
Six is among my favorite numbers.
I was born in the sixth month, on the twenty-sixth day, of a sixth year in a decade.
I once knew a freckly redheaded kid named Six. We were on the swim team together. He had a haircut I wanted (and eventually gave myself). His real name was Something Something White, the Sixth. He spelled it VI. Ignorant announcers at big meets would call out, "In lane four........Vy White." VI would grin, our whole team would crack up, and he'd saunter up to the starting block.
Have I mentioned that the "taper" phase of the training schedule makes the mind go weirder places than normal?
So Saturday, we were scheduled for six miles. The route map was titled the "No Stress Six." A nice round number. Hardly worth getting out of bed for, but still, a nice distance. We met at the Art Center for a loop around downtown, including a trip across the river to North Little Rock. The group chattered with energy--rookies out of relief to be back down to six miles, and the rest of us because we're itching to go more.
The forecast called for heavy thunderstorms. We all hoped we'd get our miles in before it started. Most of us did. We were done and back under the overhand of the Art Center when lightning cracked and the sky fell down. A few walkers were still out and got drenched, but no one was harmed. I'm pretty sure it didn't rain on Tom and I because we decided at the last minute to wear our rain jackets for the outing. I was mostly sorry I did, because it was hot.
It was just Tom and I today. He ran fast; I kept up. We cranked out our six in 59:31. It was a great run...easy...fast...smooth.
At the end, while we were stretching and talking with some folks, he suddenly jumped up and touched the ceiling. I just stared at him. We both giggled. "You have wayyy too much energy," I finally said. He jumped around some more. "I know," was his reply, "Six miles is...is...not enough."
"No stress"...riiiight....this waiting around game is tough.
Six days to go.
Six is among my favorite numbers.
I was born in the sixth month, on the twenty-sixth day, of a sixth year in a decade.
I once knew a freckly redheaded kid named Six. We were on the swim team together. He had a haircut I wanted (and eventually gave myself). His real name was Something Something White, the Sixth. He spelled it VI. Ignorant announcers at big meets would call out, "In lane four........Vy White." VI would grin, our whole team would crack up, and he'd saunter up to the starting block.
Have I mentioned that the "taper" phase of the training schedule makes the mind go weirder places than normal?
So Saturday, we were scheduled for six miles. The route map was titled the "No Stress Six." A nice round number. Hardly worth getting out of bed for, but still, a nice distance. We met at the Art Center for a loop around downtown, including a trip across the river to North Little Rock. The group chattered with energy--rookies out of relief to be back down to six miles, and the rest of us because we're itching to go more.
The forecast called for heavy thunderstorms. We all hoped we'd get our miles in before it started. Most of us did. We were done and back under the overhand of the Art Center when lightning cracked and the sky fell down. A few walkers were still out and got drenched, but no one was harmed. I'm pretty sure it didn't rain on Tom and I because we decided at the last minute to wear our rain jackets for the outing. I was mostly sorry I did, because it was hot.
It was just Tom and I today. He ran fast; I kept up. We cranked out our six in 59:31. It was a great run...easy...fast...smooth.
At the end, while we were stretching and talking with some folks, he suddenly jumped up and touched the ceiling. I just stared at him. We both giggled. "You have wayyy too much energy," I finally said. He jumped around some more. "I know," was his reply, "Six miles is...is...not enough."
"No stress"...riiiight....this waiting around game is tough.
Six days to go.
posted by kelly f @ 1:46 AM
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