Thursday, June 14, 2012


I celebrated my birthday by waking up insanely early and heading with Zoya and Margie (professional triathlete and owner of the local running store) to track practice.  Margie is coaching Z and holds a track workout on Tuesdays.  There were about a dozen people there and the track was devastatingly absent hot chicks.

We were supposed to run two miles hard and then do 8x200 meters.  I started off the 2 mile way at the back and spent lap one slowly building into it.  I wanted to slowly ramp up to 6 minute pace.  A guy got off the front pretty quickly and as the laps went by I steadily increased the pace but never did catch him.  Near the end I don't know what I was thinking.  I got really discouraged at how hard 6minute pace was feeling.  I didn't look at my watch since Margie was yelling lap splits to me.  For some reason I had it in my mind that I was doing 10 laps.  When I came through 8 it was really starting to get hard and at 9.5 I stopped.  I was discouraged and apologized to Margie for not finishing.  She said that I had and I figured she was just confused since there were so many of us running.  It wasn't until thinking it over later that evening that I realized there are only 8 laps in 2 miles and not 10.  DOH!!!!

The group did their 8x200 and that fast guy was doing his in 30-31.  I waited and just did mine in 37.  I figure 5minute pace was plenty fast enough.  They did standing full recovery.  I just kept on going and jogged 200 and did mine all easier but on less rest.  Didn't read Dad's post on no speedwork until later when I got to work.  I don't suppose I'll be doing speed speed for a while....but I think it'd be fun to go to the track now and again and do a bit.  Some 6minute paced tempo and some plyometrics just to see what cute chicks come to track practice.  Although last night's Reston runners track practice was a pretty sorry display of old and morbidly obese joggers. 

Worked all day on my birthday and then we had a BBQ and Mike and Melissa came over.  I got a bit drunk and ate cake....two things I shouldn't have.   Yesterday I called in sick and cleaned up room, worked on my motorcycle, then worked on the back patio (John and I finished it). 
I gave thought to running again Tuesday evening but I decided to rest.  Yesterday I took the day off from running because my feet were hurting.  Normally I'd just work on through it but I want to dedicate a bit of time while my mileage is low to getting used to some sort of orthotic.  Before I was doing mileage and experimenting too much.  Put in the doctor created ones in my work shoes today.  I'm wearing them around the office.  My knees and shins already feel funny and I haven't really even walked.  Just having them in my shoes while sitting seems to do something.  Well.....I'll get it figured out at some point I suppose.

Ok....I'll finish off this boring post with a TerribleTerry story....

I was dating this girl Melissa while living in Georgia.  It was during my homeless period and she lived behind the golf course where I was working.  Her uncle was the owner of Badcock (who picks that as a name) furniture store.  Most of the income of the store came from rental appliances and repossessing furniture people bought on credit.  I watched him resell the same washer like 8 times.  I swear he'd make like $2k on a $200 washing machine.  Folks be crazy!!!

Anyways, Melissa was 18 and a senior in high school.  I was 20 and a running fool.  Melissa's family had been owners of the Donald Duck orange juice company but her dad got arrested for working with the drug cartel.  They had been dropping bales of cocaine from airplanes into his orange groves and he'd pick them up and transport them somewhere.  Once he got caught the immediate family members moved up to Georgia with relatives.  So while I was dating Melissa she was sharing a bedroom, I had no bedroom.....and the 3 bedroom house was filled to the gills so privacy was at a premium. 

My birthday was a day before hers so we had been invited to a party where they were drinking this horrible Mad Dog 20/20.  It was cheap, it was grape, and it worked pretty well at getting us drunk......but it was HORRIBLE.   We spent the evening drinking and laughing while laying on the balcony of our friends apartment.  When her curfew time came we organized ourselves so that we could climb our way up the wall to attain our feet without either of us toppling over.   Then we steadied ourselves and gave great heaves at the door....but it wouldn't budge.
Hmmfffff....what to do.  I could simply climb down to the balcony beneath and then the balcony beneath and so on until the ground floor....but I was quite sure Melissa couldn't.  So we relaxed there for awhile and fell sound asleep.  Around 5am the sun started coming up and I pounded on the glass but nobody woke up.  I thought there was still a chance we could sneak Melissa home without her mom realizing she'd been out all night...Or perhaps she'd at least be lenient since it was her birthday.  Finally I climbed over to the neighbors and tried the door.  Clunk!! locked.   Climbed to the next, and the next until I found one open.  Then I slowly snuck into the house and made sure the coast was clear.   Not a single peep in the entire place.

  I left the door open and went back and collected Melissa and helped her back to the open door.  Our plan was to quickly go through the apartment and walk right on out the front door.  She peaked in to reassure herself the coast was clear....we held each other......and just as we walked into the house.......BAM!!!

On go the lights and this song is just ROARING out of the speakers.  Some old guy in a pair of boxer shorts and a wife beater tshirt is standing over a record player with his back to us.  He does a pirrouet 360 turn in a blur (apparently never sees us standing in his living room)....finishes it with a nice disco fever move and a flamboyant hand slap over his head....and turns to his left (away from us as we're standing no less than 10 feet from him) and dances his way into whatever was in the next room clapping and swinging and enjoying himself the entire way.  How he didn't see us I have no idea.  We stood there frozen for a moment, then gave each other a crazy look....and ran the hell right on out of there leaving his front door wide open.

From that day on.....sometime during my birthday... I just have to play this song!!!  Each time I do it I think of Melissa and wonder what ever happened to her and how many times she's probably shared this story....and listened to this song on her birthday.  Good times!!!!


  1. AAARRRGGGGGHHHHH.......Hey, slide down this site to where I outlined your 6 month training plan and provided you a pretty virtual training partner! This kind of speed work is dandy to top off your late stage training, but as you experienced, takes more from your account than it puts in. Happy Birthday and remember, you will be forty before you can even imagine.....

  2. TErrible Dad, you need to stop telling Terry "you will be 40" every time please. 40 is nothing. For some people it is only a beginning.

  3. Ok, no speedwork. Party pooper. Day two of wearing my orthotics all day. Knees are hurting. I need to get some dixie cups frozen up at work and do ice massage to them.