Some of you may have noticed that this blog is no longer headed by the 80s style appellation "Blog". I am now calling it "Carpe Vitae" which is roughly "seize life" as I intend to share more than just the running thoughts that I typically sign off with "carpe viam" -- which kind of sort of means "seize the roads".
I should probably call the blog "Christopher Works Stuff Out in Public". (You'll have to do your own Latin translation on that one.) I am getting the sense that I might use this space more for confessions than anything else. So, the divulgence I am making today is that I do a lot of running these days on the treadmill. When I was younger, I wouldn't run on a treadmill if I was on a submarine for a month. Only "joggers" ran on treadmills. As with my previous post (and I am sure many more to come), this just reveals (probably testosterone and ego driven) stupidity that I have finally been able to shed as I have matured.
I am not going to repeat all of the benefits and challenges about treadmills here. Plenty of pixels have already been spilled on the topic. For me, the two things that matter is 1) treadmills help me get more miles in, and 2) they sometimes keep me from breaking myself when I get that little twinge in my calves or hips.
Tonight was a great example. I had hoped to get out of work by 5:00 to get a quick 5 miles in while it was light. 5:00 turned into 7:00 and while no one closed the roads, it was then dark and I didn't have warmer stuff with me to wear. I went to the gym and was able to get the 5 miles in at just over 7:30 pace with the last half in under 7:00. That is pretty good for me. I know it is not the same as running outside in the wind, but they were legit miles that will help me in that next race. (The flatness of the treadmill doesn't really matter as there are no hills in this town anyway.)
I can also push the pace on a treadmill knowing that I can shut down immediately if something on my perpetually tight back side (calves, hams, butt) starts talking to me. Another confession: On more than one occasion when I am several miles out, I have tweaked my calf and convinced myself that I could keep running to loosen it up. Next up? Three weeks of rest. When that happens on the treadmill, I just stop.
Given the choice between a decent day outside and a treadmill inside, I'm on the roads or trails every time. But when it's cold and dark and damp, the evil couch monster sometimes creeps in and that is when the treadmill rise to the challenge to save the day.