Last Friday, after I crossed the threshold to begin the running portion of my training, I met my new track coach.  Shortly after my morning weigh-in, I could see his face in the mirror as I brushed my teeth.

Our meeting was brief since track practice wouldn't begin until 5 pm, but I could sense his presence all day.  We would meet again later under more painful circumstances, for sure.  There was no way out for either one of us.

Five o'clock arrived promptly like clockwork, at 5 pm, just as scheduled, and right on time.

Track practice began with five minutes of stretching.  Then, Coach had me walk briskly for a mile, just like in the good old days, but this was only to warm-up.  It seemed like only yesterday that I was walking on that very same treadmill.  After some reflection, I realized it WAS only yesterday that I walked on that very same treadmill.

After the warm-up laps, Coach had me run a 1/4 mile lap.  This felt okay and I was not out-of-breath at the end.  Practice progressed with alternate walking laps and running laps.  After several laps at various speeds, Coach found an 8-minute mile pace to be appropriate for me.  He had me do a total of 6 or 7 laps of running before letting me walk briskly the rest of the practice - six miles altogether in about 75 minutes.  It was a short workout compared to most.

Saturday, I got the day off.  Completely off.  Absolutely nothing to do.  All much-needed rest.  Thank you.

Sunday was "kind of" a day off, compared to Friday.  The morning began with the good old brisk mall walk I do every week, but was ten-miles this time.  As the first one through the mall doors, I am now getting to be the mall security guard's old friend.

Monday, it was back to track practice, but Coach got tougher and tougher as the week went on.  By Friday, he was really tough on me.  He had me doing random 1/2 mile interval runs mixed in with the usual 1/4 mile laps.  Once, he challenged me to run a really fast lap because he somehow knew that I felt pretty good.  He wanted to see if I had the wheels of a 25 year old.  (I proved to him that I did.)

After a long winter, Coach likes to go home to his loved ones earlier now, so practice is scheduled to last 90 minutes.  No more.  No less.  After only a week, he has already gotten me up to over eight miles a day, almost half of which is running.

Coach may seem like a sadistic slave driver, but he can see some potential in this tired, old man.  He can see it in the mirror.