Farewell to Tuesday nights

Yesterday's meet at Brookline was postponed, as expected, and will be held today instead. With rain still falling this morning, it promises to be a very soggy affair. The forecast looks considerably better for the league meet on Saturday.

On a personal note, last night marked the final Tuesday night outdoor track workout of the season for me. From mid April to the end of October Tuesday nights mean workouts at the Harvard Track with my running club. But on Sunday morning, Daylight Savings Time will end, darkness will descend on the afternoon commute, and we'll move indoors. In case there was any doubt, another summer will be over.

The rhythm of the Tuesday night workout is deeply ingained in my running psyche, and the familiarity and routine helps me get through a lot tough runs in all kinds of weather. Last night was no exception. Normally, there would be dozens of runners doing intervals of various sorts, but last night the track was empty except for me, my training buddy Terry, and one other soul fighting the gusts of rain and wind that plagued the far turn of the track. We warmed up for about twenty minutes, becoming increasingly water-logged. After four strides, we switched to our lightweight shoes, peeled off multiple layers of wet clothing, and got into it.

The night's workout was 2 x 1000, 4 x 600, 4 x 400, all with a 200m jog recovery (about 1:30-2:00). Terry set the pace for the opening 1000 felt hard, but turned out to be pretty slow as we fought the wind and the puddles that had gathered on the inside lane of the track. To avoid the spray off Terry's shoes, I ran slightly to his outside, which exposed me more to the wind. I led the second 1000, which was a couple of seconds faster, but still much slower than what we had been running on previous weeks.

Whew, it was tough to work against the wind resistance, especially on the homestretch! We dug into the 600s trying to maintain about the same pace or a little faster than the 1000s. The first one (with Terry leading) felt ok. The second one (with me leading) felt hard. The third one (with Terry leading) felt ok again. Every interval now fell into the same pattern -- the opening 200 felt good with the wind pushing us down the backstretch, helping stretch out our cramped strides; then the second 200 would be a struggle to maintain pace and form in the teeth of the gale, then the final 200 much harder than it should be. I led the fourth 600, and was glad when it was over.

Into the 400s, trying to run them a bit faster than the 1000s and 600s. Each one felt hard, but now the 200 rest in between intervals seemed generous. I broke the pattern and led the 2nd and 3rd, figuring that Terry would run faster than me on the last one, and he did. It was our fastest interval of the night, and as I trailed him across the finish, I was glad to have it over.

It was a challenge to get our warm clothes and gloves back on, but we managed, and then shared a damp and sodden cooldown -- 14-15 minutes jogging around the Harvard Satdium complex, reminiscing about the crappy weather we had run through this year. Spring had been too cold, summer too hot, and late October too wet -- all in all, another typical New England outdoor season.

The leaves fall, the clocks are turned back, and now we move our track workouts to the indoor boards. That can only mean that summer is truly over and snowstorms are right around the corner. Around and around we go, around the narrow oval to the rhythm of the seasons... Like a flock of migrating birds, such is the life of the competitive runner.