“Track Camp” is what we call it, but it’s more like supervising a blast from the past, being reminded of what we were like as high school track-letes. Girls in spandex and vibrant sports bras seem to have little concern for body image holding them back from peeling off their oversized Mt. SAC t-shirts, and placing more emphasis on face make-up and nail polish color than the concern of an untoned belly or under-defined deltoid muscles. Boys, wearing long baggy shorts as if all the pale skin of their thighs is too sensitive for sunlight, spike their hair with gel and fake a deeper voice whenever flirting with the young ladies. Despite the humor of it all, most the teens out there were sincerely interested in absorbing our wisdom about training the right way: nutrition, recovery, lifestyle habits, and workout diversity were presented as new tools for optimal performance. Their progression was visible, by the end of the week there was an evident increase in efficient running form (taught via drills), interest in aqua-jogging, embrace of the luscious salad bar over the greasy day old hash browns, and a vibe of enthusiastic camaraderie amongst each other. Observing their progress and resolving their curiosity on running related topics provided gratitude that overpowered the downside of the whole camp for the staff, which comprised mostly of overtraining and under-sleeping. The camp ended with a staff lunch, where I stuffed my face with a fat burrito and moseyed home to embrace the sudden evaporation of back-to-back “things to do.” I let the sunny summer boredom steal my sigh of relief and carry it through the warm wind that blew through Isla Vista. A couple hours later, my restless legs sprung into action, as my brother Nic and I rode our road bikes a half an hour to Bikram Yoga, sweat half our body weight out onto a soggy towel, and then hit up Whole Foods for dinner before riding back to my apartment, chasing the sleepy sun into it’s cool ocean bed.
“Women’s Camp” began the very next day, as my teammates and I woke before the sun opened its big bright eye. Leaving rubber on the road behind, we roamed up the coast to Capitola Beach in Santa Cruz. The weekend workouts went well: two tempos and a long run wore me out but it was invigorating to be training with my supportive and focused teammates. An even spread of goal talk and girl talk wrapped up the weekend and I was back in Isla Vista before Sunday night concluded. I feel relieved now that I expressed my fears and insecurities regarding the season to my teammates, and mentioned the possibility of redshirting the upcoming cross country season. By no means would that decision make any alterations in my training, for I will prepare and race with the same vigor and determination whether the letters UCSB are proudly fixed across my heart or not. With only one more year of eligibility left and two years of school, it seemed to make sense to everyone that my strength will come with time, and reawakening my legs from three months of a bitter foot stress fracture requires more time than I am allotted to be as successful as I can in the Fall.
While nurturing a suffering achilles, I’m holding up well. In Santa Barbara for the rest of the week, I aim to hit 80 miles this week. I’m finally enjoying my training and getting excited for my first week of three strong workouts, drills and weights every other day, a couple sessions of Bikram Yoga sprinkled in, and some Foundation classes to improve my running efficiency. Oh, and of course I’m also excited for the wicked tan I’ll get from paddling around in the ocean on my housemate’s surfboard.
Santa Barbara x (running shoes + a bikini + my road bike) = the perfect summer
What I'm listening to right now: Wash. by Bon Iver
What I'm listening to right now: Wash. by Bon Iver
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