So far, our spring blog record has been ridiculously pathetic. I don’t know exactly what it is about this time of year, but once the toe crosses the line in that last ski race, everything just seems to explode. There is suddenly so much stuff to do and so little time to do it in, but I suppose the same can be said for either of the major seasonal transitions. Basically, that was a sorry attempt to justify our lack of publishing.
This year, that last ski race happened five minutes from my house, with the US Distance Nationals being held at Birch Hill. It was a good week and some seriously fun racing, highlighted by Tyson and I getting 7th in the Team Sprint and David throwing down some super-legitimate 30 and 50k results.
But now that that’s over with, there are skis to be waxed, bikes to be built, miles to log, and mountains of homework to do. Somewhere in there, I’ve managed to set myself a goal of running every other day, and doing intervals once a week. To some of you uber-runner folk like gazelle-man J-Freeman, this may hardly even seem like mentioning, but when you consider the fact that I (1)am absolutely terrible at it, and (2)absolutely hate it, I figured it would be a good challenge.
Yesterday was the first race of the year, a little milestone/opener city 5k. Logan and I went into it hoping to both set PR’s, which for us hardly even requires running fast. But I don’t think I’m alone when I say that it seems like there are major differences between running fast and skiing fast.
When I finish a ski race in which I was beaten significantly, I usually cross the line and immediately think about all the training I need to do to ski faster. However, when I flail across the line in a running race, obviously way off the pace, I feel like the best way to run faster would be to have my intestines surgically removed. It’s like I can hardly notice my legs, while my stomach has just been filled with Clorox. Maybe Prefontaine should’ve said he wanted to see who had the least guts.
So anyways, we both PR’d, and I got reminded as to why I am not a runner.

The rubber legs kicking me in….

Logan 500 meters out….
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