So yesterday I noted that my "target heart rate" is about 160 beats per minute. To feed my curiosity, I strapped on a couple layers in the dark of winter night and found a couple-hundred-yard street-lit stretch of sidewalk. I should note that I did my usual twenty minutes of leg stretching before heading out. I should also note that 19 degree temps negate stretching. Armed with a stopwatch, I ran the distance and then checked my pulse. Because of my mathematical giftedness, it took me only ten sprints to finally figure out how fast I actually ran (since precious oxygen cells my brain needed to do the math was needed to quiet the starved screaming of my lungs).
Turns out that I need to run about three strides per second to hit my target rate. I kind of guessed this would be the case, though I have never moved that fast for 30 consecutive minutes except by car. I suspect that the scientists who came up with this "target heart rate" formula had revenge on their minds, gleefully envisioning an infield littered with mean ex-high school jocks clutching their chests in an act of fatal, breathless poetic justice.
The soccer fitness program says to do this twice per week. Meaning that tomorrow I'll check to make sure my life insurance is paid up.
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