Sprinting to death

I was reading Lee's blog about sprinting, and it made me think of a funny story. So, in college, I gained a ton of weight. Well, not literally 2000 pounds, but a good 35+ lbs by the time it was all said and done. I had the freshman 15, and then about 5 pounds every year thereafter. Anyway, one summer, I came home, and in one brief moment of inspiration, I decided to go running with my little bro, to get in shape.

I was pretty out of shape at the time - the only kind of exercise I really did in college was to play basketball, and that wasn't that often. But I'm generally always of the mind that Lee was when he decided to go sprinting. I'm totally into going harder than going longer. Running 1 mile hard is more worth it to me than running 3 miles at a pretty slow pace. Not that this is a good way to think. In fact, it's not. It's idiotic, as you're soon about to find out. Anyway, I decided to do a little workout we used to do for basketball conditioning. We would start out our fall conditioning with this workout:

2 400s in less than 70 seconds
4 200s in less than 35 seconds
6 100s in less than 15 seconds
8 40s in whatever, as long as Coach could tell you were running hard.

So you start with the 400s, one at a time, with about a minute to rest in between. Then you go on and on, and end with the 40 yard dashes. Eventually, we would work up to 4 400s, 6 200s, 8 100s, and 10 40s. The thing about this workout is that the 400s really take a lot out of you. It's sprinting, because you always have to go hard, but it's about endurance too - having strength to go hard even when you've gotten that first energy jolt out of your system. Believe me, the first lap is always easy. After that, not so much.

Being that I was in college and totally out of shape, I decided to give myself a break. Just run the 400s hard, and aim for 75 seconds. Likewise with the rest of the distances. Don't worry if you go over, just keep running hard.

So I go out to the track at Cupertino Junior High (now Cupertino Middle School - but at the time I went, it was a junior high and only *special* 6th graders were allowed to go) and I started my workout. Jog a lap, then stretch pretty good, since I was going to run hard. I stepped up to the line (one of Coach's favorite expressions) and I run my first 400. I think I made it in 75 seconds or so, and I was feeling pretty good. Like Lee described, I felt my heart pumping, the blood flowing, the heavy breathing, but it was pretty good, like my body was awakened. "Okay," I thought to myself, "maybe I can do this. Maybe this will be a good workout, and I can get in shape, do this more regularly." So, I allowed myself a couple of minutes to catch my breath, and then I start out on my next 400. As I hit the first turn, something hit me back. Like my legs suddenly turned into jello, and my breathing turned into wheezing. I pushed myself through the agony of the next 300 yards, thinking all sorts of things to keep myself going, constantly checking my watch to see what the damage was. I'm not sure what time I finished that lap in - I don't think it was that bad, maybe around 80 seconds, or a little bit more. But I sure do remember what my body was feeling at that time.

I collapsed on the grass, trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible with every breath. Definitely not the best thing to do after a hard run (that being lying down), but I literally could not stand. My brother came over to me and asked me how I was. I remember telling him that I couldn't feel my legs. The funny thing is that the way I said it was with the same kind of desperation as if I had gotten shot or something. "I can't feel my legs! I can't feel my legs!" I probably lay there for more than 10 minutes. It was brutal agony. It was the kind of run that makes you feel like Lee felt after the runner's high ends - nauseous, dizzy, kind of sick - but it wasn't for just a moment, or for 5 minutes. It was for the rest of the day. Probably into the next day. Like, I felt short of breath for a few days, like that wheezing feeling in your chest when you have a cold and you can't breathe deeply.

Suffice it to say that I didn't make it out for a run the next day. Actually, I didn't make it out for awhile - it took some time to get over all of the psychological damage of that run. My brother still remembers that day - quite the amusing remembrance of big bro, lying on the grass, mumbling "I can't feel my legs" over and over.

Good times. Good times.

And the moral of my story is the same as Lee's: I need to sprint more often.