Self-Flagellation Resumes

This time, I asked for it. I know what I'm getting into. I brought it on myself.

I signed up with Nate again.

Before you groan and tell me I'm not allowed to bitch and moan about the training, let me explain. I really want to break 1:40 in the half-marathon before shooting for a BQ again, and Nate's training got me a good PR in my last half, so I want to see if I can knock off 3 minutes to get that 1:40. Reaching that goal would make me feel much more confident going into another round of BQ training for a fall marathon.

Even though the training hasn't officially commenced for my June half-marathon, Nate's abuse coaching got off to a quick start. He had me run a 4-mile time trial as a "fitness check," which is code for "Have you been sitting on your ass eating chocolate since the marathon in January?" (Yes)

Nearly reaching my puke threshold, I ran the four in 29:59, which I thought was the perfect time to convey that I'm in decent shape, yet not so fit that I should be assigned torturous speed work. If you ask me, I strategized that one with stealth and style, so I asked Nate if going from 1:43 to 1:40 seemed doable from that performance. His response? "It's not going from 1:43 to 1:40 because you're not in 1:43 shape." Dang, someone's gotten all mean and shit since his move to Fancy-Runner Town, Colorado. Stinker.

The problem is that Nate knows his stuff. A lot of stuff. So from a Natepedia perspective, the training is really what one must do to pester him with incessant questions about running. And even though he had to move to Colorado Springs to escape a pestering runner in Massachusetts, I couldn't have been all that annoying if he's willing to coach me again. Right? Right?!?