Tempo Runs

There are a few times every year where I really question the whole “I want to be a runner thing.” It always seems to happen during a tempo run. I hate tempo runs.

For those unaware, a tempo run is, scientifically speaking, running at your aerobic threshold for a long time, most often in the 20-30 minute range. In layman’s terms, this means being on the edge of trying really hard, but not quite running all out for that period of time. In my terms, it means that it sucks.

Tempo runs are the kind of thing that feel really good for about 10 minutes, and then your body slowly starts to let you know that you’re not supposed to be doing this. Everything starts to shut down, the legs become heavy, the stomach begins to tie up in knots, the shoulders stiffen. But then you have another 10 to 20 minutes to go.

Paul O’Neil of Sports Illustrated once wrote:
“A man who sets out to become an artist at the mile is something like a man who sets out to discover the most graceful method of being hanged. No matter how logical his plans, he can not carry them out without physical suffering.” – “A Man Conquers Himself,” May 31, 1956

I feel this way about tempo runs.

As it turns out, the tempo being one of my weaknesses, Coach Henner has made sure that I have improved upon it. Last fall’s training log was filled with 8 mile tempos, he even through a 10-miler in there once so that I would learn to focus for 55 minutes.

And even as my tempos have improved, they haven’t become any more fun. This past Friday was a 6 miler with three freshman on the team. What was meant to be a progression run of miles at 6:00, 5:50, 5:40, 5:30, 5:20, and finally 5:10 turned into a nice little 6 miler that went 5:37, 5:40, 5:36, 5:31, 5:14, 5:04.

There will be plenty more tempos, and there will be plenty more of me complaining to myself that I have to do them. However, I understand what they mean, and I’ll continue to give them my best shot. The worst part will be the tempo tummy that follows.

A World Champ and Two All-Americans; What a Bunch of Losers

I spent Thanksgiving in New York this past weekend. My mom, step-dad and little sister made the drive out from Michigan to spend the holiday at my brother’s apartment on the Upper West Side. They had a place rented out for the weekend near Times Square, but I was lodged up near Columbia the whole weekend.

Thanks to two separate dinners, I had my fill of turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes and green beans and gravy and apple pie and ice cream and cupcakes (only thanks to a trip to Magnolia for the caboose of that list).

The highlight of Thanksgiving day may have been the first (and most likely last) “Boylan, Fanta, DiCrescenzo,Boylan-Pett Turkey Football Game.”

In a backyard football game that took place in Riverside Park, My brother, Will, quarterbacked a team of himself, my mom, and my sister, Annie. My team included my step-dad, Charlie, and Delilah.

To give more meaning to the title of this entry, Charlie is a World Champion Taxidermist. No Joke. The guy is incredible at stuffing animals. If you ever kill a deer or a turkey and want it kept as a memento, look no further than http://www.fantataxidermy.com for all your needs. Then, add in the fact that Delilah and I were both All-Americans in the last track races of our NCAA careers, we had a pretty stacked team.

However, it doesn’t always work out the way that you think it would. In a defensive duel that yielded only 3 touchdowns, my leadership led to nothing but a letdown. On one play I even took out Delilah and seriously jeopardized both of our running careers. We ended up just fine, and I also made the catch.

In the end, with Delilah threatening to “throw the game,” my Mom made the game-winning catch as the sun set on the leaf covered field. 14-7, the World Champ and the All-Americans lose. What can ya do?

There was some running this weekend, but as in all Thanksgiving weekend runs, they weren’t the lightest. The mileage keeps on upping and the workouts will start to pick up soon enough, but for now its miles and miles.