It Takes Two, Baby

At around noon today, I got a text from Beth: “Did you work out this AM?”

Knowing Beth as I do, I was immediately annoyed that in fact, I hadn’t worked out that morning, because I assumed she was going to suggest some sort of evening activity that involved wine, and I wouldn’t be able to go.

But it turned out that she was looking for a treadmill buddy for that evening, and I was more than happy to oblige. We both had speedwork planned, but I wanted to keep my mileage pretty low (3-4 miles) to avoid going too high this week (crazy jumps in mileage = injuries = depression and sadness all around). Funnily enough, she was easily able to talk me out of my planned mini tempo run (because they suck) in favor of 800s (which suck more, but at least they suck for short periods of time with breaks in between).

And before I knew it, it was time to meet her at the gym… and also cold and snowing. We sort of semi-joked via text that we both wanted to bail (well, I really wanted to bail, but knew I wouldn’t) and cursed her for having this idea.

Simultaneously loving and hating @rxbethontherun for initiating a plan to do treadmill speedwork together. Because the couch is calling…

— Elizabeth Hoffman (@ElizabethBevanH) March 7, 2013

But before I knew it, we were finding treadmills and I was tying my hair back with the dramatically inferior (read: stretched out, and not at all thick enough to contain a ponytail for speedwork) ponytail holder I had with me… and we were off.

And through a rumbly tummy, treadmill hatred, the breaking of the aforementioned ponytail holder, wanting to drop down to 3 repeats, wanting to throw up, and generally hating everything about our lives as only speedwork can do… we survived. 4×800, 4 miles total. Boomtown, we rule the world. No way would I have gotten through this run without someone next to me cheering me on. And as weird as it sounds, having someone else to cheer on often makes me a stronger runner. It takes two, baby. It just takes two.

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