I realize it isn’t Monday, but I was too busy on actual Monday working on the next Frankly Scarlett show to post, and my planned blogging topic for today, how my neighborhood is being attacked by bomb threat terrorism, is way too much of a bummer given the mood I’m in.
Because I just ran a mile in 7 minutes (and 1 second)! That’s 46 seconds faster than I’ve ever run a mile before, and that was back to 1995 when I weighed something like 90 pounds. I never thought I’d get that speed back. But I have it.
Today’s run was typical Spring-in-Pittsburgh, where I had to keep taking my sunglasses on and off and rolling my sleeves up and down and I got sleeted on at one point even though it was allegedly 45 degrees when I walked out the door. Somebody already drunk at 2:00PM on the South Side shouted, “USA! USA!” at me as I ran past in my kickass patriotic skull cap.
Wednesday is the day for my “speed run” which usually means I run around a 10:00/mile pace (My race pace is a little over 11:00/mile). I hit my first three miles all around 9:50, and I was really excited that I was going to get all five miles in under 50 minutes.
But I got complacent, I guess, because even though I still felt like I was flying, I heard the Soothing British Robot Voice of my GPS app say, “Distance: 4 miles. Duration: 41 minutes.” I’d slowed down significantly and I had to kick it into high gear if I was going to get back on track for 5 miles under 50 minutes.
Even though I’d already gone 4 miles, I still felt great, which is a testament to the power of training. So I gave it everything I had for that last mile. I funneled all my concentration into speeding up my cadence instead of just taking the gigantic strides I often fall into when I try to speed up. After about a half mile, I knew not only was I going to hit my initial goal, but I might PR. The excitement of that kept me going, and when the Soothing British Robot Voice said, “Distance: 5 miles. Duration: 48 minutes, 1 seconds,” I almost fell down on the spot. I felt so happy I actually started to cry. Even though I have no shame admitting that now, I am really glad at the time no one was around to see me, because I probably looked like a total crazy person (thank you, intermittent freezing precipitation, for keeping the trails clear!).
From a half-marathon training perspective, this was probably reckless and foolish, but I am still so glad I did it. I feel POWERFUL in a way I haven’t in a while, and I know from experience that is the best motivator for me when it comes to physical activity. This experience will help me shut up the voice in my head that says “I can’t” when I get tired on long runs. And as cheesy as this sounds, it will shut up the voice in my head that says “I can’t” during anything in life that is hard.
This is why people love running.