645

Today my magic number is 645.

645!!!

Every moment this number crossed my mind,

or mumbled in my mouth, I broke into a

smile, with sense of pride and deep satisfaction aroused.

645!!!

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645 it is! Or rather it is 6:45!

It is the time that I completed my second 1600m time trial on Sunday evening.

Never mind the fact that I know someone out there could do it in

less than 4 minutes, and never mind that some fast runners out there will

burst into thunderous laughter when they read Mill-Runner clocked a 645 mile

and still make it sounds like big deal.

BUT 645 IS MY TIME, and it is darn relevant to me.

And above all, I am proud of it!!!



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If you asked me before how fast I could run a mile, honestly,

I have no idea. I ran 10 marathons, many halfs, 10Kers and 5Kers,

but never had I have a chance to run a 1600m (BTW, a mile is 1609.34m,

or you could think of it as 1.61k, just about 10 meters more than the

distance covered in 4 standard track laps. I know that the .01K isn't

much, but you know how loony an obsessive runner can be about

getting the EXACT distance. Well, if I run the 1600m in 6:45,

then it would have cost me another 2 seconds to cover that extra 10 meters,

and it means I would have run a 6:47mile instead).


This 6:45 1600m was actually my second attempt of the distance.

My first attempt dated few weeks ago when I suddenly decided

to give track running a try. On the first day running on

the oval, I have done a 5K time trial. It was a very hot morning

(frankly, I overslept and was doing that 5Ker at about 10:30am,

and in a tropical country like Malaysia, the sun is blazing hot

by then). That was a really torturing 5ker, and for some moments,

I wasn't even sure I could complete that. I ended up

a 24:45 for the 5ker, somewhat a minute slower than planned.



After the recovery, the obsessive part of me kicked in again, and

I started doing another 4 laps of time trial, and not surprising,

with a disappointing 7:21.


From then onwards, I always wondered if I could break 7:00 if the

weather wasn't that hot and/or I haven't tired myself first with the

5ker time trial before the mile trial.



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Yesterday, while I brought along my sons running on the track,

I decided to give the mile another try. After the warm up( I am

not sure the last lap of the warm up could be classified as warm up,

as I was running it way way faster than a warm up run should

have been, I did it in 1:34), I started the first lap with a goal of

breaking the 7:00.


I knew that I supposed to be able to break that 7:00

as McMillan Calculator predicted 6:50, but I haven't done it before

and I was keen to know whether I could actually do it.


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The first lap didn't feel as easy as it should have been and it was

alarming. I could feel that my legs were heavier than usual

after that stupid 1:34 'warm up' lap. My confidence started shattering.

I was holding back after the second straight of the first lap and

split a 1:47 for the first lap, somewhat 2 seconds slower

than the 1:45 planned split.


Having fall short by 2 seconds, I knew that I needed to give

a harder effort or the 700 was gone forever. I picked up the

pace while held it under control. The second lap was hard alright,

but still comfortable and I split an exact 1:45.


Now came the fierce third lap. This is the lap that make or

break the 700. It is also the lap that the urge to slowdown

or quit altogether raises its ugly head.

This is the lap that testifies the determination, that is

the lap that defines me... THIS IS THE LAP!


I knew it was going to be a TOUGH lap.


From the Polar HRM log, my HR long ago crossed the 175 boarder

line. I started to feel the tightness on my chess. My legs

were dead, and worst of all, I knew I have at least another lap to go.


I mumbled my mantra "IT SUPPOSE TO BE PAINFUL, IT SUPPOSE TO BE HARD ..."


While enduring the fatique, I clocked a 1:41 for the

third and I knew that the 7:00 was secured.


The last lap was always torturing (if it wasn't, then I am

surely not giving my best), but it was also so close to the finish

that I keep telling myself " almost there, almost there ... ".


I could still remember the sprint that I did on the last straight

of the last lap. I was clearly leaving all out on the track and

GIVING MY BEST SHOT.

When I pressed the big RED button on the watch,

it showed 1:32 and a total time of 6:45!!!

YES, I did it!!!

Not only did I broke the 700, but I surpassed McMillan prediction

by 5 seconds. And immediately, the sense of pride, the

bliss of happiness rushed through the vein and lasted even

till now.


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While I was typing this on the PC, I could felt the constant pain of

my right gluteus, and my right plantar were sore as hell while

I walked the first step (obviously, that 645 1600m has aggravated

my nagging injuries, another evidence proving how silly

an obsessive runner can be). But the moment I typed in a 645,

a smile cracked and lingered on my lips...


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Now, while I endure the pain on the butt and heel, I keep wondering how fast

I can run the mile if I haven't run that 1:34 warm up lap, or

I haven't done that 12Ker the morning before the mile time trial.


Better still, how fast I can run the mile if I properly train

for it and successfully getting rid of all nagging

injuries and taper sufficiently.


While I wonder on the possibility of a 630, my eyes gaze far

across the oceans into the 6min mile....


Crank on.