What a beauty evening for a tempo run. Last night was the 10-day out mark before Chicago, an interval that has significance in varying forms, whether it’s a tempo, a track workout, or what my friend does is a 10-miler at race pace. I looked back at my training log for the past few marathons and I’ve leaned toward the T-minus 10-day tempo for Philly in 2013, Boston in 2014, NYC in 2014; the only exception was earlier this year Boston 2015, when I realise now with head-shaking incredulity that I did not do a single tempo before the race.
This might seem ridiculous to some, to most, but I felt nervous about this workout. I wanted to have a strong run, to squeeze in a bit more strength into my legs, and also to cultivate a bit more confidence for the race. Prior to the workout, a friend asked what my goals were for the race; I responded that I was on the fence about going out with the 3:10 or the 3:05 pace group. His advice: Just yolo and go out with the 3:05.
I hadn’t realised that yolo had attained verbal status, like Google, or Tinder, or sandwich.