Bicycle Fartleks and the Insanity of Tapering

Those of you who are runners know that's not something off color, for any of you who don't, fartlek is a word taken from Swedish? that means speed play. This morning, while running my five miles, I suddenly heard the tik-tik-tik combined with the sssss that signal a nearby bicycle in my right ear. I turned to see a man, wearing a backpack, riding a too-small bike towards the train station that was about a half-mile up the road. His pace was very casual, perhaps 9 or 10 mph, and we were approaching one of the several small hills along this route. I decided it was fartlek time. He had 50 feet on me by the time I kicked up the leg turnover, but knew I could close on the hill. I kept up the pace, fading ever so slightly until he hit the foot of the climb. As he climbed, I started reeling him in. Steadily, gradually, the distance dropped. By the time he crested the hill, I was just about 15 feet back. He then accelerated as gravity again became his friend, since on the downhill, it would do most of the work. I stayed close, and as I passed the parking lot for the train, he was locking up his bike.

I always find tapering to be a maddening experience. It's one of the reasons why I like to keep my taper short, just two weeks, as compared to the oft recommended three. I find the reduction of activity to be tough, not just because it affects how you think of yourself as a runner, but also because the liggle niggles that you get (my lower back is a bit tight, my left knee has "popped" a few times, and I have occasional twinges in my legs) all make you ask, "Is this the thing that will keep me from finishing Boston?" In your mind, you know they're nothing, but the question marks keep flying around. In this post, my friend, Vince Hemingson gives his very insightful take on tapering.

Yesterday, I ran in a park, in the area where the gunman was in this post. I tried to get in a good mix of hills and flats, mostly on trails (and spending a fair amount of effort dancing through exposed roots). Near the end of my run, I picked up a baseball, in good shape, to add to my son's arsenal. It was great to be cruising through the woods, away from cars (though for much of the run, the steady drone of the nearby interstate could be heard).