There is no speed limit or dream limit on the oval.
Coming in for that high five like my life (or lap?) depends on it.
It was opening week of official Wednesday workouts with the Arete Oakland-East Bay team. The first real “track Tuesday” night of my life was a win sandwich. Win: simply making it to track after fully psyching myself out. Fail: poor fueling all day resulting in a workout I heavily modified as the wheels threatened to wobble, but didn’t fall off. Win: being smart and simply making the most of it. And well, damn, did I enjoy running on the track.
Perhaps what Connie didn’t know as I came in for that high five — or maybe she wisely did — was that she said exactly what I needed to hear that night.