High Altitude Training :: Running Athletes Essays

High Altitude Training For the first mil of my daily track down the cows be with me. They seem out of head along this road that winds through mountain pines, but in genus Arizona cows are everywhere, even at 7,000 feet. They watch incredulously with spongy eyes as I run by. They stand as quiet as statues and only their heads move, slowly and almost imperceptibly, like the heads in paintings of long-dead relatives that watch right at you, no matter where you stand in the room. I cant tell if they approve of all this runnel exercise they are silent. No matter how far I decide to run each day, running that first mile is the hardest. I feel the similar niggling pain under my ribs each time, and wonder how overnight I forgot how to run. Each day I tell myself that I must be going about this running thing all wrong. My shoes are old and probably not the right sort of shoes at all. Im wearing cotton socks. I expect at any moment a van, driven by a proc ess of the International Federation of Runners, will pull up beside me. A conk of sleek runners wearing custom made running shoes and artificial socks will pile out of the back of the van and issue a citation. Or they will grab me and drive off with a skreak of tires, taking me to an interrogation room where they will seat me under a bare bulb and ask, Just who do you think your are? I look around uneasily. No vans. No running police. I view I will have to keep running. I smirk at the cows, glad that Im faster than someone. I came upon running by accident, when I was digging through a pile of magazines at my local used bookstore. I pulled out a copy of a running magazine that had a picture of a beautiful woman on it, a woman with a blond ponytail. She looked happy and carefree. I treasured to be her. My friend Ellyn looked over my shoulder and said casually, Oh, Suzy Favor.