I didn't make it much of a secret that I had been training for the Los Angeles marathon, or that I fell short of the time I was going for, or that I signed up the night after to run another one in San Francisco on July 26th. I decided to take something of a new approach to my training. It goes something like this - run fucking faster.
So I got off work today and went into the gym to get a lift in before a fast 4.2 miles out on the road. These days, I roam the gym with absolute ADD, going from machine to machine in random but calculated and crushing sets. I'm never sure how long I'm going to be there, or exactly what I'm going to do. When I finish, I finish...and today, finishing meant it was time to run Sunset through Beverly Hills and back. The first stretch is a little bit of up and down, running through the mess of Sunset Plaza and the last bits of West Sunset. Then, things calm when you cross into Beverly Hills and there's this straight shot from Doheny to Whittier - the pass where Sunset winds and takes you to UCLA. I was coming over the hill, ready to kill my 3.2 mile loop to Whittier and back when I saw a runner on the opposite side of the street. He was about 20 yards ahead of me, just as I was starting my kick and I was thinking in my head - because these are the things I think - alright fucker, let's roll. I overtook him, just beating my feet against the pavement until I had to run around a car and lost my pace. He took the lead again before I overtook him and thought that to be the end of it. His body was torn up, but he had a little too much muscle to be that fast or committed to being anything but that - a good body. I thought. Cars started honking behind me and I thought nothing of it. It didn't take long before I heard this huffing coming up from behind me. This dude had Froggered Sunset to chase me down and all he said as he ran up to my side - crazy pace man, people don't run like this in Los Angeles. I laughed, immediately measured him - he meant business. I was moving and he chased me down from the opposite side of the street with composed breath. It didn't take long for him to give his name - Nathan - and for me to admit that I was training for San Francisco - and for me to get him to spill that he ran Miami in 3:01 and had a personal best of 1:17 in the half. Over the course of the first half mile, we agreed to extend my run to 6 miles, to the loop he was planning on running - and we agreed without words, because I could feel he was a competitive fucker just like me - that we were just going to slaughter it. I had felt awful all over before we started the run, sore in my hips and back and calves but I tucked it in my back pocket the second we started our kick together. I like to think we were flying down Sunset...because we were, and I don't know the exact pace, but could feel some of the miles passing in the low 6's, and we were introducing our lives and talking the whole way.
The loop came and went, and we made it back to Sunset and crossed Doheny and from there, on the home stretch, the pace quickened. He was ahead of me and started to fly. All I had to do was follow, chase a rabbit and he was trying to pull away. I could feel my legs thumping as they flexed and extended...and I was just floating along and we were racing through Sunset Plaza, on the home stretch, two motherfucking colts galloping past the digs of men who despised and envied our strength, past the whistles of women who wanted to take us to bed. He was 5 paces ahead and the world slowed for me, and I tried to think back to a time I was ever chasing someone else, trying to catch someone else. I couldn't recall and it was an amazing feeling, getting beat.
I got home tonight after we traded info, got a text that said - "I could see us breaking barriers. Crush your 16 in Palm Springs. Let's set up for some quality miles next week."
My return - "Funny. One more set and all we do is pass each other. You'll be hearing from me."
