It was 1985...
Before getting to the office,
I’d planned to run fifteen miles with strength advanced fartlek like so: first
two miles was the warmup on the road which would be mostly uphill from three
tenths of a mile to about a mile and four fifths, then flat to the first two
miles—and that would be when I’d start the stopwatch on my wristwatch and run
hard for five minutes, then I’d run easy for two minutes—next a hard three
minute pick up, followed by a minute run rest easy and finally a hard one
minute pick up followed by a thirty second run rest easy stint. I proceeded to
do five sets of this drill on the road covering 62 minutes and 30 seconds and
then an easy two-mile jog back to the Haledon High School cinder track a half
mile away from our Woodside apartment. I was motivated when I got to the track.
So, instead of an easy four laps to get an even fifteen miles in before work—I
ran four quarter mile intervals, like so: 87, 85, 88, 91. I did a little jog of
a minute in between each one. At this point everything screamed, especially my
stomach. I slowly ran back and up the John Ryle hill to our Woodside apartment.
My legs were shaking as I teetered climbing up the back stairs to our
apartment. Once inside I headed to the bathroom. I didn’t just have stomach cramps;
I dumped whatever last night’s eats were which came with blood in my stool. I
had gastro-intestinal bleeding. Obviously to me I’d pushed a little too hard.
Yet I felt mentally satiated. My knees were fine for the moment; my quads and
my stomach were another thing. Spiritually, I was high. I got cleaned up, drank
water as I could barely eat, yet I was famished. I prayed that a donut or some
pastry might find their way to me somehow at work; however, I knew coffee would
be there for me.--- Jody-Lynn Reicher "Authentic, a Memoir"
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