North Little Rock High

Among my innumerable flaws, I for some reason find most egregious the one that insists I hold all current circumstances in relief of the past. Most at first glance label this sentimentality, which is good, because that misdiagnosis has probably gotten me laid more than any of my strengths; except those people eventually, as I long ago, realize it scrapes closer to insanity.

Tonight at the North Little Rock High track I ran an old workout, one introduced by Russellville High track coach Don Carnahan in the spring of 1977: 8X200 meters with 90-second, 200 jogs for intervals. We had to do them under 30 seconds while Coach Carnahan watched. I last did this workout on an April evening, 2004. Ashley came by unannounced that night with two 15-inch platters of pepperoni-pizza flavored cardboard from Lil' Caesars and I talked her into escorting me to the track. I ran the eight 200s in an average of 41 seconds while Ashley jogged and dashed a bit. As we tried to eat the pizza, before I tossed it in the garbage and grilled steaks and steamed asparagus, I told her about 1980, when I frequently did 16 in an average of 26; and furthermore how little I appreciated the fact I was doing something no more than 2,000 living Americans could do. Two-thousandth won't get you money or magazine stories, then or ever. Tonight I admired my performances from 29 years ago, and ran eight 200s in 52.1, 52.9, 51.3, 51.0, 48.6, 49.2, 49.4, and 46.8. They were easy, but only because my legs won't go fast enough to make them anything other. I covered the two miles of sprints and intervals in 18:42, after a 10:24 warmup mile. It's true; I am slow in every essential way, evidenced by my 200 times and revisions of 1977, 1980, and 2004.

I plan to visit my mother in Nashville tomorrow and Saturday, and might drive the 25 miles to Hope for the Watermelon Festival 5K on Saturday morning. My over-under is 24:08 if I do.