Jeg må se å få opp dampen det går rett og slett for sent med meg. Alt for sent! Jeg må motvillig erkjenne at det antakelig kan ha noen med alderen å gjøre. Selv om topplokket i følge min kone har stabilisert seg på tenåringsnivå så har farten jeg kan flytte kroppen min rundt i terrenget på for egen maskin gått dramatisk ned med tiden.
Jeg finner det helt naturlig å sammenligne dagens rundetider (400m bane) med det jeg hadde som 19 år gammel rekrutt på Gardermoen. Jeg har ingen interesse av å vite hva andre halvfeite 40 åringer makter - jeg vet hva jeg var god for og maskinen må da være mulig å pusse opp....
Det er jo ikke til å stikke under en stol at det var en litt molefunken supermann som fløy rundt banen som Lynvingen her en dag bare for å oppdage at den ene max. runden min ble løpt betydelig senere en rundetidene mine på 3000 m fra den gang da..
Jeg finner meg ikke i det ganske enkelt og angriper dette snigle tempoet med alt jeg har. Det blir kortere intervaller 30s. i max tempo og 15s rolig - til jeg ligger der som det fossilet jeg er. Turbotips mottaes med stor takk - her står det ikke på viljen, for bare håpe Naprapaten holder leggene i sjakk og ikke i matt..
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1 kommentar:
Feit og 40! Veien dit og tilbake igjen. Alltid Nr # 1, og aldri feit og 40 igjen:)
Lange rolige økter, bredere plattform, bedre form. Intervaller hører våren til. Nå er det kun kose trening for meg. Hart rate(HR) 120-130 på de fleste øktene, noen få opp mot terskel HR 160. Aldri over før til våren. Da er det "attitude" som gjelder. Grusomt = Herlig. Sliten = Energisk. I den forbindelse henter jeg selv mye energi når de tunge øktene står for tur gjennom "The given speach av All Pachino".:
Al Pacino's Inch By Inch speech from Any Given Sunday
I don't know what to say really. Three minutes to the biggest battle of our professional lives all comes down to today. Either we heal as a team or we are going to crumble. Inch by inch play by play till we're finished. We are in hell right now, gentlemen. Believe me and we can stay here and get the shit kicked out of us or we can fight our way back into the light. We can climb out of hell. One inch, at a time. Now I can't do it for you. I'm too old. I look around and I see these young faces and I think I mean I made every wrong choice a middle age man could make. I uh.... I pissed away all my money believe it or not. I chased off anyone who has ever loved me. And lately, I can't even stand the face I see in the mirror. You know when you get old in life things get taken from you. That's, that's part of life. But, you only learn that when you start losing stuff. You find out that life is just a game of inches. So is football. Because in either game, life or football, the margin for error is so small. I mean one half step too late or to early you don't quite make it. One half second too slow or too fast and you don't quite catch it. The inches we need are everywhere around us. They are in ever break of the game every minute, every second. On this team, we fight for that inch. On this team, we tear ourselves, and everyone around us to pieces for that inch. We CLAW with our finger nails for that inch. Cause we know when we add up all those inches that's going to make the fucking difference between WINNING and LOSING, between LIVING and DYING. I'll tell you this:
In any fight it is the guy who is willing to die who is going to win that inch. And I know if I am going to have any life anymore it is because, I am still willing to fight, and die for that inch because that is what LIVING is. The six inches in front of your face. Now I can't make you do it. You gotta look at the guy next to you. Look into his eyes. Now I think you are going to see a guy who will go that inch with you. You are going to see a guy who will sacrifice himself for this team because he knows when it comes down to it, you are gonna do the same thing for him. That's a team, gentlemen. And either we heal now, as a team, or we will die as individuals. That's football guys. That's all it is. Now, whatta ya gonna do?
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