This morning was a great run. We headed downtown to check out our race route for the Women's Distance Festival. It was a nice route - pretty neighborhoods, shady trees, nice downhills.
With downhills, come uphills, which, by the way, is exactly what I was thinking the whole way down the hill.
Oh how I dreaded the hill I just knew was coming.
It came. It came on the final mile. And it wound up, and up, and up. I'd be totally lying if I said I ran all the way up. Walk break was DEFINITELY required, and could very well happen again at the race. I'm OK with that. I've already decided. OK with that.
At least, once you get to the top of the hill, you can hit a steady downhill all the way to the finish line. Since I was by myself by this time (our group got really spread out today) I gave myself quite the pep-talk running the last little stretch. I was just openly coaching myself outloud. You bet. I'm that guy.
But I finished in exactly 42 minutes. Ok, that's slow as hell, but I'm still pretty impressed with my effort. I just have to keep telling myself what an extreme accomplishment that is, even though it might not seem like it to a lot of people.
There is so much pressure in the running industry to be faster, to have a "sub 20" 5k time. Are you people for real?? I'll be thrilled to finish in twice that time, and I'll be damn proud of myself either way.
It's frustrating to be slow, but it's even more frustrating to not be doing anything at all. They might judge me at Tri-Sports at the mall because I don't look like an athlete (don't shop there. Stick with the fab Athletes Foot, Fleet Feet or Raleigh Running), but I am one.
(The last two paragraphs were pretty much the jist of my aforementioned "pep talk." Not bad eh?)