40 Degrees and Rainy With 100% Chance Of Windsprints

Yesterday

It’s been raining all morning. Grey, dreary rain.

I’m freezing too. I look around the chilled house and realize it’s dropped a few degrees outside so I look up the temperature online – 49 degrees. It’s May.

I glance at my workout schedule – windsprints. I almost laugh. The thought is ridiculous.

40 Degrees. Rainy. 0% of Windsprints today

I tell myself. No way. No how.

Hell no.

I look back down at my computer and get back to work. I fire off a few emails, talk to a client and tidy up some loose ends. I look back at my workout schedule.

Windsprints.

Staring right at me.

Nope. Not going to do it. 

I try to focus back on my work, but my mind is already started arguing with itself.

I don’t want to go.

I don’t want to do it.

Not today.

You can’t make me.

I fire an email off at Vic telling him about the rain, and the temperature – too cold to run, I say – hoping that will be an excuse enough for him to go easy on me.

I wait 3 minutes and send him another one without waiting for a response – already knowing what it would be.

“I hate you”, I type as I stand up and head to my room to look for clothes.

I layer up like I’m about to visit the tundra.

• Under Armor, check..
• Sweatshirt, check.
• Shorts, check.

I peek outside – still way too cold for sprints.

I walk back in, glance at my computer and think for a second how much easier it’d be to just sit down and stay in – it’s way too cold after all (and it’s raining!). But results don’t care about your excuses.

I glance back and rummage through my closet.

• Sweatpants, Check
• Winter Hat, Check

It’s May. IT’S MAY! I tell myself. This shouldn’t be happening.

Last week I was in the Dominican Republic! What happened, where am I and what did people do with spring in Chicago when I was gone?

I mutter something under my breath and then walk outside. As the cold hits me, I say outloud to no one in particular.

REALLY? TODAY? REALLY?

I’ve got 2 days left in this workout regimen. Today’s the last tough day. Tomorrow’s slow and easy. And today – of all days – spring in Chicago decided it wanted to pretend it was February.

@#&^!

It doesn’t matter anymore. I let out a small grunt and I’m already outside. Cold, wet, outside. Great.

Sprint day. 

I hate sprint day. Run until you can’t breathe anymore – who decided this was fun?

Vic, I hate Vic – I tell myself.  This is all his fault. ALL HIS FAULT.

But Vic didn’t make me sprint outside. I did. I’m not sure why, but that realization makes it easier. I accept it, settle down and walk to my starting point.

Here we go.

50 yards. Down and back. I run in the middle of my street – quiet enough to not have to watch out for cars – but busy enough that I still get odd looks when they pass by. At this point I could care less. I’m used to it.

50 down and back. Then rest as I walk back 50 yards to do it again.

Then again.

And again.

And again.

Over and over and over.

The sets blur together and I lose count of how many I’ve done. I know that I’ll be out here for 20 minutes at the least – there’s no use in keeping track of the number of sprints I do. I don’t care about time either – I care about running till I’m out of breath.

Down and back. Down and back. Down and back.

21 minutes later, I look down at my watch. I’m done…

…almost…

Hill sprints are optional – but I do them anyways. I don’t know why – maybe I like pain. When you’re already this deep, you might as well keep going. In a workout, when you get the choice between hard and easy – the hard way always makes you stronger. Mentally, if nothing else.

I walk around the corner and look up at the hill.

*sigh*

REALLY? REALLY?

It’s not incredibly steep, but it’s long. 200? 250, maybe 300 yards? I’m not sure, but it’s far enough to wear me out sprinting on a flat surface, much less an incline. This hill won’t be fun.

The thought of turning around and walking back home crosses my mind, but I barely finish the thought before I’m off.

My legs are tired. The wind, the rain and the hill all conspire to pull me down, but I keep sprinting – noticeably slower than before – but sprinting none the less.

Breathing heavy, I get about halfway and start to slow. I dig back in and kick as much as I can until I reach the top and realize I want to puke.

“One.”

I walk back down to the bottom of the hill.

Why am I doing this?

Again.

I take off, a little bit slower, but I make it to the top.

“Two.”

One last time. This one is tougher, but I keep pushing until the hill levels off.

“Three.”

Done, I breathe finally and half walk/half-jog down the hill – as the rain cools me down – the same rain that threatened to keep me shut in.

I walk back inside – 36 minutes later. My sweatshirt is sopping wet. My sweatpants are too.  I don’t know how they got this wet, as I take them off and throw them near the laundry and change. Somehow though – I’m done. Thank God.

As I settle down at the computer – I notice something’s different than earlier. I look at the rain – it’s still coming. I check the weather – it’s still cold. Everything’s still the same…but me. I’m stronger.

40 Degrees.

Rainy.

100% Chance of Windsprints.

Damn straight. #rah

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photo credit: pennacook