As I walked across the field to start #6 I saw stars. E seemed to feel about the same and we asked for more rest. G gave us an extra minute and off we went. I made it 400 and was done. I couldn't continue with the 600s. I was just not feeling right. So, G said we could do 400's @ the same pace (83-85) when NC and the dudes started the 600s, which gave us 2:00ish minutes rest between 400's. NC and the dudes must have picked it up because I saw many 81 second splits for my 400's. They were all between 81 and 83. My legs wanted to fly, but the rest of me was squashed by the heat.
I never doubted that whether I was doing the right thing. After the workout G said, "don't worry. You'll get stronger." I wasn't worried. I was enjoying the workout and my legs were happy. I WANTED to do 600's. At no time was it my wuss voice telling me to back off. It was the mother voice telling me that I can't afford heat exhaustion when I have to go home and nurse my baby to sleep! Also, the happy runner who wants to be able to run the rest of the week and the happy partner who wants to be able to hang out with mrp. There was no sense in being a hero and pushing myself to the breaking point on the track. I want save the collapsing and puking for the race chute!
When we headed out for our cooldown I really knew I did the right thing. About .5 miles in I had to stop because my abs were cramping like crazy--that happens when I get mega-dehydrated. I jogged back to the track and grabbed my water and jogged to the school to fill it up. I saw the stars again and I was sweating like a mofo. I filled up the jug, drank a bunch and then jogged around the track until I could call it 8 miles and went home to nurse my baby to sleep. It was a hot, but good night!