Speed. Speed. Speed.
That’s what I’m looking for this summer. The next couple of months will be devoted to getting this body to move just a little quicker. In other words, I’ll be fartleking all over the place. Fartleking here. Fartleking there. Fartleking anywhere. If you’re not careful, I might just be fartleking in your hometown. And if you think I’m done saying fartlek, you’re wrong. We still have 3 more to go.
I’ll also be Repeating like a howitzer (thanks Carla! Cheers, circa 1990).
Now that the 3 humped marathon hurdle that started last October and ended in Boston has been crossed, I’m ready to cut loose and work on some long neglected PR’s in 5k’s, 10k’s (this won’t be hard- I’ve never run one), 15k’s, and 10 milers. Consider this an official Feet Meet Street Summer Policy Directive.
Basically, I hope to bring out my inner Carl Lewis. Except, quite a bit farther than 100m. But not nearly as fast. And I’m not going to shave my head to a flat top.
As I bid my family adieu and embark on this self serving Summer of Speed, I can’t help but be a bit pre-nostalgic for all the kids’ baseball games I’ll miss. The kite flying I won’t do again this year. The lawn Mrs. Nitmos will need to cut (and seed, please.) Again this year, I was planning to avoid going to the local park to play Frisbee. I had a million excuses already loaded up on why I couldn’t teach my daughter to ride a bike. In short, there was a world of things I wasn’t going to do this summer that, now, I won’t be able to do again this year.
I’ll be at the track or on the road fartleking, repeating, fartleking, repeating and fartleking yet again (and repeating again also). * When I’m not at the track, I’ll be studying speed in which ever form it exists including - but not limited to - drag racing on ESPN, standard lion tackling antelope footage on Animal Planet, and neighborhood teenager driving rusty old Pontiac Sunbird by my house.
I’ve surfed the running blogs. I’ve read the running magazines. I’ve developed a detailed list of who to blame if my planned speed explosion doesn’t pan out. I think I’m ready.
With scapegoat(s) firmly in place, I press on to become a quicker, leaner Nitmos. I am determined to become as fast as possible and decorate my shelves with age group awards I acquire from poorly attended, unpopular races. Over the course of the summer, the awards will soon replace the love of my children. In fact, they’ll become my children. The first two I win, I’ll name exactly the same as my current two trophies, er, kids.
If you have any speed improving tips, please don’t be shy. Share away. This will both assist me in my pursuit AND provide me an additional scapegoat.
5k Goal: Sub 19:00
10k Goal: Actually run one. Oh, and break 41:00
15k Goal: Probably won’t get to one of these this year so whose foolin’ who?
10 Mile: Sub 1:10:00
I feel bad that I won’t be around much this summer. My family will miss out on my unerring conditional love. Pickle jars will go left unopened. Pictures won’t be hung. The TV remote will go less fondled. On the positive side, they’ll be free to pursue other hobbies other than stroking my easily bruised ego. It’s a win-win. Plus, I’ve been around for every summer of my son (age 10) and daughter’s (age 6) life so far. So I miss one? By my math, that’s still 9/10 summers, or 90%, for my son. A solid “A-“. And 5/6, or 83%, for my daughter. A low “B”. Quality grades.
And, for me, there’ll be that many less occasions where I have to say “please leave daddy alone in the dark with his bottle.”
Ah, yes, the summer of speed. I look forward to ye.
* Note: This in no way is referencing a bowel movement despite the way it reads.
While I’m away, Mrs. Nitmos will need time to pursue her hobby (re: gambling addiction). So, I’ve explained to the kids how to use the internet and that they should believe and do everything they see on it. For the next several months, please keep your blog posts helpful and edifying. And if someone in your comments section keeps typing in “9-1-1” or “help us” or "feed us" over and over again, please explain to “pick up the phone and call grandma” in your next post when you get around to it. Thanks!