And for my next trick

8:00 AM - 8 miles, 1:00:00 - Westboro.

Easy does it with Casey from his place before work. Mix of roads and rocky trails but managed to make it through unscathed. Still feeling a bit tired, but three days of reduced mileage and increased sleep should help take care of that.

In an unprecedented act of unadulterated thievery, I'll be stealing a page out of Jeff Caron's book, or blog rather, by attempting to pull off the fabled 36-hour trick between my easy 8-mile run this morning and tomorrow evening's projected 6-miler and strides.

The reason for such a heist? In a word, recovery. With the New England cross country championships merely three days away and a few hefty training/work weeks solidly in the books, I figure now is probably as good a time as any to try and rest my weary legs a little bit.

Excluding the week leading up to Bay State somewhere around mid-October, I haven't really "tapered" for any of the handful of races I've contested since Vermont City, and that's been by design. The main goal this fall wasn't necessarily to set off a string of PR's (although I did manage to snag one, thank you down week) but rather to string together as many consistent, injury-free training weeks as possible to cement a solid base of strength in preparation for the big Boston buildup this winter. Minus a few minor niggles and one persistent (but healing!) hiccup, I've been successful in laying that sturdy foundation with some steady mileage and a healthy dose of hill workouts. There's still a long way left to go, but so far everything is right on target for hitting the bullseye at Boston on Patriots Day.

In the short term, however, I would like to not embarrass myself at Franklin Park on Sunday in the same manner I did at Mayor's Cup a few weeks back, so I'm going to scale things back just a wee bit over the next few days. Let's hope a little extra rest does the trick.

Quote of the Day

"He would describe it as an ongoing brutal dance, the pushing of the body right up to the edge, close to injury, to collapse, day after day. As he approached and then surpassed a hundred miles a week, it had all come back to him: the night sweats, the muscles twitching in bed like different wild animals somehow alive on him, the searing panicky thirsts out of nowhere, the random cravings for pickled beets, chicken-fried steak, artichoke hearts, herrings in sour cream, carrot juice. Just the general feverish nervous physical anxiety that seemed to animate a blob of protoplasm vibrating itself into a higher state of physical grace. It did indeed seem to have something in common with pregnancy or illness."
- Quenton Cassidy, making his third QOTD appearance this week. Go buy the book.