"Discontent is the first necessity of progress."
Thomas A. Edison
I used to love tempos.
The satisfaction that came from the building sensation of lactic in the legs.
The steady deep breath that would power my engines.
The intense internal focus which whisks me in my own little world.
Then last year happened, and I pretty much have had to stay clear of any and all work even remotely resembling tempos. I couldn't hold the pace, and if by some miracle it happened the workout would knock me out for a few days. Really thinking back, this was probably my last good run with a tempo...back in late August of 2011.
That's quite awhile ago.
Not really expecting much these days from my body, but I've been feeling fairly decent lately and finally like myself again.
Energized. Focused. Relaxed. Confident.
Some workouts are a hit, and still some are a miss. The tempo has been a very challenging thing for me this past year, and honestly something that I've been lacking the urge to tackle. It can be easy to talk yourself out of the things that you fear, and my mind has been on a non-stop reel of "don't do this or that" for several months now. And the tempo was at the top of that list.
Last night I slayed those fears.
Laced up my well worn in Brooks Ravenna 3's that have 700+ miles in them but are still holding strong,
strapped on my ornery Garmin,
and headed for shaded paths in the humid air.
It's not much, just 4 measly miles, but they felt terrific.
Peppy. Propitious. Prolific.
Felt challenging, but laborious the right way instead of the "oh.em.gee if I go one more minute at this pace I'm going to be severely hurtin' tomorrow because I feel completely out of control" kinda way.
I'll take progress in any form these days.
And this, this is progress.