So I was pleasantly surprised to learn a new lesson on my limbo run on Thursday. I thought I knew everything about limbo runs seeing as I invented the term. To refresh, Tuesdays are my track intervals day and Thursday is a tempo run or limbo run, whatever the mood strikes as I lace ‘em up. Long time F.M.S. readers know that a limbo run, known as a “progressive run” by the running glitterati, involves me running each mile progressively faster after starting with a comfortable warm-up mile. Limbo run is a much more descriptive term than progressive run and I expect it to catch on like wildfire – eventually – in the running community. Just remember where you heard it first.
A smart limbo runner gently accelerates through each mile. You may drop 4-8 seconds per mile. Heck, even one second gets you under the line for a successful limbo. It would be nipple tickling but….it works! If you go too low, too early, well, it just makes it harder for the subsequent miles. Be a smart limboer.
As the original limboer, I’ve had some close calls but always managed to judge my pace enough to beat the previous mile. But, yesterday, I almost knocked the bar over.
The plan was a 7 miles. After a relaxed warm-up, I started my gentle downward sloping limbo:
So far, so good. Miles 2-4 only saw an overall decrease of 5 seconds and, believe me, I noticed that I was limbo slacking a bit. I prefer to knock off a nice 5 or 6 seconds per mile. So I picked up the pace for mile 5 and found myself in the LDL Zone.
Oh, shit. I dropped 28 seconds and, for the first time, found myself in the Limbo Death Leap (LDL). I dropped too quickly, too much. Like bad cholesterol, a high LDL is not a good thing to have.
But press on I must:
Okay, let’s bring it home.
And done. Against all odds, I limboed to keep my streak of needless braggadocio alive and well. But Nitmos does what Nitmos does. (shrugs shoulders, feigns nonchalance) I was tired and my mouth was dryer than a reused dryer sheet. Truth be told, I ain’t in shape for that kind of limbo. Give me a few more weeks. If a DJ with a tenor voice smoothly chanted at me, “How looow, can you go?”, I would have responded, “6:09. That’s it buddy.” It wouldn’t have mattered how much – or how loud – the calypso drums or Hasselhoff played.
Lesson learned: When limboing, don’t create a huge LDL or you’ll knock the bar down.
So I guess I can learn new things. And maybe Andy won’t give away his toys and there’s a beer that doesn’t taste good. Run and learn.
Limbo wisely, my friends.
Garmin don't lie:
6:38 per mile