Weeks 3-4: Cue the montage where the dude gets stronger

The next two weeks feel sort of like a movie to me—the part where, to a rousing score performed either by one of those 80’s bands like Europe or Asia or Sylvester Stallone’s brother (seriously, look it up), the protagonist attacks his weaknesses on all fronts and slowly but steadily improves.

Cut to me in the gym as Gilbert shows us the hip flexor machine. I drape the wrong leg over the bar, it lurches upward, and I’m awkwardly splayed against the device. Gilbert and onlooking Gazelles, frightened, jump to my aid—“Hey, dudes, it’s all good!” I confidently assure them.

Cut to my second long run where, in my supreme confidence that I can modify the course and run fewer hills, I turn onto a street called “Hillview.”

Cut to Gilbert at a chalkboard, drawing 1000 meters on a track for me. “Robert, you start on this side of the track, but you end up on the OTHER side . . . “

Back to the gym and Coach is explaining the hamstring curl machine. I lie down and complete a few reps. “No, Robert, this one is for your legs.” “Aah,” as I get up and turn around, “Yeah, this feels better.”

Fade up on the 4-mile tempo run. Once again, my plan is to follow the first few runners and see what happens. When he tells us to take off, everyone bolts. Whoa, this is like a real race. I fall in behind Dan, whom I know at this point is faster than me, but I just want him to pull me a little quicker than my regular pace. Little by little he’s putting on distance, but, hey, at least I’m running slightly slower consistently. Somehow that's kind of good. I guess. Drops of water are hitting me in the face, but rather than falling from above, they are materializing in the air in front of me. It's like a cloud forest has formed around Town Lake. Only grosser and without parrots. At about three and a half, with Dan's shirtless back disappearing in the distance, I ease up a bit. One, because I am about to puke, and two, because I want to save up for the big finish. So I pick it up and give it everything, although the effect is far less dramatic than I had envisioned. I cross the zero mile marker as Frank Stallone’s “Far From Over” swells. Gilbert glances at his watch and stares out across the lake, steely, contemplative: “He’s getting stronger . . . ”

Fade out.

I run 27:36, which I think is okay in terms of my progress in this hot groady weather. Coach tells me I looked like I had gas in my tank. I didn’t really, but I’m glad to know my acting training has been put to good use. I do think that the circuit work and the 3 X/week gym work on my core and legs have been helping. And when I operate the machines correctly, that’s when I really start to notice a difference.