Somehow we “won” the Corporate Division at last night’s Fila Relays. So what if we were placed in the wrong division, and who cares if it was 2.44 miles and not 2.5, we’ll take the win, and we ain’t giving it back. Everyone ran great: Andre kicked ass to lead off, Pat and John both ran great times, and though I’m happy with my time (14.38), I’m not happy with the way I ran (uncontrolled).
I ran the course with my teammates beforehand and felt uninspired and slow. I was nervous and just wandering around before the race. We had our two boys there so I had to keep up with them while Jessica ran and I didn’t really get to warm-up much. I tried to do some drills and short strides but couldn’t focus. Andre hammered the first leg and I didn’t think I’d be able to match it. I saw all these Gazelles throwing down bomb times and questioned myself. The whole thing was just, uh, sub-optimal.
So I ran the anchor leg, and as usual, went out waaaaay too fast, running the first mile in about 5.45. Of course I knew I was going too fast, but I’m dumb like that, and just kept killing myself. I got a stitch and I never get a stitch. My legs were dead and well, they often feel that way. My throat was parched. My breathing was off. My thoughts were poor. About half-way through I was burnt, moldy, blackened toast, and a couple of people passed me near the end. All I kept thinking over the last half was how slow I thought I was running, though my time shows a 5.59 overall pace, which is hard to believe. If you told me beforehand I would run that pace I wouldn’t have believed you. As I mentioned to several people after the race, I usually pick out a time before the race and tell myself I’ll be happy if I run that time, then when I do run that time (or faster like this race), I’m not at all happy about it. It’s not about the times, it’s about the feel.
So let’s review this whole race process. I start thinking bad thoughts about the race a few days beforehand. The thinking turns to stress and sickness in the pit of my stomach the day of the race. Immediately before the race I start questioning why my mother even birthed me and placed me in this predicament. The race itself, every race, is death. And as soon I finish, all I can think and say (as soon as I can talk), is “no more races … no more races …” I love the workouts though. No stress, no pressure, just running with other runners, not against them, just running with yourself, not against your thoughts. So no more races … until ….?
Log: Ran 5 miles this morning by myself around the trail, 38 minutes.
PostScript: This whole post came across more negative than I intended. I had a great time running with Andre, Pat and John. It was fun after the event. My 2 boys were there cheering us on. Jessica ran and beat her goal time. It was great to see all the Gazelles out to support Gilbert. There were tons of Gazelles I’ve never even seen before. Overall, a positive experience. I’m just hard on my running.