High Altitude Training :: Running Athletes Essays

High Altitude Training For the starting time mile of my daily run the cows are with me. They seem extinct of place along this road that winds through mountain pines, but in Arizona cows are everywhere, even at 7,000 feet. They watch disbelievingly with soft eyes as I run by. They stand as still as statues and only their heads move, slowly and almost imperceptibly, like the heads in paintings of long-dead relatives that gaze right at you, no matter where you stand in the room. I cant tell if they approve of all this track activity they are silent. No matter how far I try to run each day, streak that first mile is the hardest. I observe the same niggling pain on a lower floor my ribs each time, and wonder how nightlong I forgot how to run. Each day I tell myself that I mustiness be going about this running thing all wrong. My berth are old and probably not the right sort of place at all. Im wearing cotton socks. I involve at any moment a van, dr iven by a member of the International Federation of Runners, will pull up beside me. A fleet of sleek runners wearing custom made running blank space and synthetic socks will pile out of the back of the van and distinguish a citation. Or they will grab me and drive off with a screech of tires, taking me to an interrogation room where they will seat me under a bare bulb and ask, Just who do you think your are? I look around uneasily. No vans. No running police. I guess I will have to keep running. I simper at the cows, glad that Im faster than someone. I came upon running by accident, when I was digging through a pile of magazines at my local used bookstore. I pulled out a copy of a running magazine that had a picture of a beautiful adult female on it, a woman with a blond ponytail. She looked happy and carefree. I wanted to be her. My friend Ellyn looked over my shoulder and said casually, Oh, Suzy Favor.