
Roger Bannister breaking the four-minute mile
My coach runs a series of spring and summer speed training sessions at the local track. I use to go religiously every Tuesday night and I credit these efforts with turning my running into Running. I learned so much about pacing, refining my stride and increasing my efficiency. Over two summers I probably cut a full minute off my mile time.
Sadly, last year I was resigned to standing on the infield and serving as an assistant coach for the season. I would actually run from my office in Manhattan to the track in Brooklyn with my work clothes in a backpack, but the full-tilt effort of a track workout was too much for me. I’d feel the power draining from my body with every lap. It just wasn’t worth it.
This year is a little different. With a better base of miles in my body from training for the Brooklyn 1/2 Marathon and more strength in my legs from the many miles of recent cycling, I decided a couple of weeks ago to show up at the track.
From bad to better to almost best
Week one was a disaster. The nagging hamstring issue that I acquired during the 1/2 marathon — an issue that I thought was long since healed — started stabbing me again. I could only do 2/3rds of the workout.
Week two was slightly better, but I could still feel weird fireworks shooting off in my legs. I ran the whole thing, but took it easy. I’m generally the fastest of the group, but I forced myself to run at the back of the frontrunners and pace off them.
This week was much better… in fact, it was too good. It was the last session of the spring class and, as he traditionally does, coach takes us all for ice cream after the workout. Of course, ice cream comes with a price — the distance medley relay. For the DMR we break up into two (or more) teams of four with each member of the team running either a 1200, 400, 800 or 1600 meter leg (in that order).
I always get stuck with the 1600, but didn’t mind because Shane, the guy on my team who was running the 400, was a track star in a previous life. He was going to easily hand my group a half a lap lead by the end of his leg. I also knew I was faster than Carl, the guy on the other team running the 1600, so it was going to be an easy win.
Wait! Where’s my agent?!
Sure enough, after Shane’s 400, we had a nice lead that the 800 meter runner on my team easily held. But then the two team captains, who happen to be evil sisters, decided on a mid-race trade. They swapped 1600 meter runners and I was suddenly on the losing team and looking at a 150 meter deficit at the tag. I knew I was faster than the Carl, but that much faster?! I really didn’t know.
What was once a comfortable and fun run was now a rabbit race. Knowing full well that this kind of effort was exactly what I should NOT be doing, I dug in and started to chase down Carl.
I ran a screaming 1:16 for my first 400 and 2:35 for the 800. Not exactly Olympic pace, but for me that’s excellent. For the 1200 I was so in the zone that I didn’t hear my split. All my high school track memories were flashing before my eyes while my eyes burned a hole in the back of Carl’s shirt. With 300 meters to go I tucked in behind him to regroup and catch my breath. Granted, we were still moving very quickly, but need the time to find my kick.
To the line
Coming out of the last turn I moved into lane two and pushed a little to see if Carl would respond. He did. I pushed again. Carl came with me. With about 20 meters to go we’re still side by side. Determined not to lose it after all the work I’d put in to catch him I summoned up another gear.
Like the afterburner on a military jet I dumped raw adrenaline into my muscle. I really though I was already running as fast as I could, but I found something more. I found that crazy strength people talk about after they’ve lifted a car off of somebody to save their life. I just said to myself, “Body! Do it!” and it did. I beat Carl by maybe two strides. Very close.
The price of victory
I ran a 5:23 mile. Carl ran a 5:48. And while I’m very happy to know that I can still run a mile within striking distance of my personal best (5:10), I’d trade that knowledge in a second to remove the way I feel today.
Part of the reason… actually, the main reason I didn’t want to run Carl down was that I’ve just come off a week’s break from antibiotics; from everything, in fact. No supplements, no vitamins, no herbs, no drugs of any kind. I simply decided a week ago (without talking to my LLMD) that I was going to take a break just to see what it felt like. Which, surprisingly, was fairly good. Not great, not recovered, but a string of three or four days the likes of which I only get maybe once a week when on everything.
One of my training with Lyme rules (which I’ll write about soon) is to not push it during a herx. I exercise to help sweat out the toxins, but I don’t stress out my body. Chasing down Carl clearly broke that rule. Even though I’d only been back on the drugs (rifampin, minocycline, azithromycin, diflucan) for two days I could really feel their effects. I was feeling tired, tingly, foggy, depressed and overly anxious.
Today it’s even worse. I barely slept last night and got up really early. By 10am I was back in bed for an hour-long nap. Felt much better after that, but I almost NEVER need to nap during the day.
I mustered the energy to take a very easy hour-long bike ride in the late afternoon. It actually improved my spirits, but left everything else more or less the same.I expect all this will all wane over the next couple of days as the herx clears. We’re also going to Cape Cod for an extended 4th of July. Being there will chill me out and give me a chance to rest a little.
Thanks for reading. Stay tuned for more…



