Thursday, December 8, 2011

OAR--better known as Once a Runner

Cassidy walked through the turn, pumping his arms a little, thinking of the nervous crowd noises as the pace began to pick up. Perhaps there would be only a small group left in it now; three, four, maybe. But they would all have ambitions; no one ever ran down the back straight with the leaders without thinking he had a shot at it.          From The Orb
Cassidy was in extremis. They had gone through the first mile in 4:37 and Cassidy thought with alarm: godamighty that hurt. The heavy training of the past several weeks had sapped him. When he reached down for an extra surge just to hold pace, he found only a searing strained feeling with which he was intimately familiar: red line city. He was not enjoying his weekend.          From Cross Country
 Cassidy did not allow himself to think of racing pace, for these 63 second quarter miles required so much effort it would have been heartbreaking to think how much faster a pace was required in an actual race.          From The Interval Workout 
 Then he unzipped the vertical zippers along the legs of his sweatpants and felt up and down both achilles tendons. All the knots and lumps were gone. Soft trails, he thought; godamn Denton and those beautiful soft trails. He had made it through the winter okay, only two colds and no real injuries. He was a man without an alibi.          From The Race
And he had the power. He knew that too as they sped down the straight, really feeling it now, the lactic acid aching through his body, but also starting the build-up, getting excited knowing that this time it would not be long, that it wasn't going to go on forever after all.          From The Race
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