On Wednesday morning, I reported to Prospect Park somewhere in the 7:00 hour to begin a run that the Runna app called “400s into 200s.” Sure. It was pretty simple: run a quarter of a mile at a certain pace, walk for a certain amount of time, run another quarter of a mile. Do that six times, and then do the same for an eighth of a mile six times (but faster, because an eighth of a mile is very short). I like the Runna app because it means that none of this math falls to me. It barks in my ear, telling me to start or speed up or slow down or stop, and I obey. I hit my paces and upload the whole situation to Strava: easy.
During one of Wednesday’s walking intervals, a kind but presumptive old man assumed that I was walking because of the heat. There is no shame in that, but that was not exactly the deal. He proceeded to shuffle alongside me and generously offer me some advice.
First: deep breaths in through the nose. No mouth breathing. I gave him a thumbs up and demonstrated that I could do these things.
“You have three yous,” he then told me. “The you of the past, the you of the present, and the you of the future.”
I said sure. That this sounded right to me. I at that point discreetly paused Runna, which was yelling at me to start running, to speed up, to remember my target pace. I tried not to look at my phone while he was talking to me, because that felt rude.
He then asked me a question that I thought was a softball: “Do you know what responsibility means?”
I said that I did. He then asked me again, but more emphatically: “DO YOU KNOW WHAT RESPONSIBILITY MEANS?”
I said that, well, in that case, maybe I didn’t. He said that that was exactly right. He then explained to me, to an end that remained somewhat unclear, that “responsibility” is a compound word: response + ability.
I said thank you. That that, again, made sense to me. He kept saying more, about how I should protect all three yous and maximize oxygen intake and that he used to be a professional boxer and at that point I said I needed to be on my way. I then blipped around the park to Runna’s cues, taking care to not mouth breathe, sometimes checking for him over my shoulder. Really, I hope to sprint past him one day, his top pupil, lithe and maximally oxygenated, response + ability embodied.
The takeaway: do interval runs and maybe you’ll learn something. I sure did! (Maybe what I’m ultimately learning is that I do not have newsletterly thoughts on even a fortnightly basis.)
This week in running: said interval run, tempo run, easy run, 12 glorious miles on Saturday night, in dry air and fading light that almost felt like September…!
So many challenges! Running, writing, talking … I’m sure you made your “coach’s” day!
You are so much more patient than me haha.