Pipe dreaming a sub-five travesty

I could have run faster. I should have run faster. I didn’t. I ran what I ran and I am pleased. Yes, very pleased. No whining. 4:56 in this year’s Congress Avenue Mile. I thought sub-five was a pipe dream, but in the event it felt relatively easy. Trust your fitness. Have faith in yourself. Accept the downhill course. How much would you pay for this great set of cookware? I’ll even throw in these oven mits. Now how much would you pay?

Too often I focus on the half-empty portion of any endeavor. Let me tell you about those positive splits! Look how bad I faded! My forearms were killing me! After last year’s race Gilbert predicted 4:30 in ’07 and I was waaaaay off that!

But no, no self-deprecation schtick this time. Sure, I think my splits were 62, 70, 80, 84 (estimated guesses as I tried not to look at the clock but took a couple of peeks), but during the race it felt like I was being very patient, and it felt like I was having a great race. I consciously held back at the beginning and even thought, “this feels like a 5K.” During the second quarter I kept thinking, “should I be going faster, this doesn’t feel as difficult as it should”. My forearms started hurting in the third quarter, but the pain never got worse, it just kind of flattened out. And OK, 84 is pretty bad for a “kick”, but I passed quite a few people in the last quarter.

So taken all together I’m pleased. It’s funny because last week I was going on about how it would be a travesty if you called yourself a “sub-five miler” if you ran 4:59 at the Congress Mile. Well, here I am at 4:56, and eff it, I’m a sub-fiver. Haha.

One thing though, if the forearms are your most painful trouble spot, maybe you could go faster?

….

So I ran the Mt. Bonnell loop last weekend and my foot was fine. Actually seemed better after the run than before. It was a fairly easy run, 1h37 total, finished in 6.31, 6.29 I think.

Tuesday was our “Congress Mile prediction” workout. 1×1000 at race pace followed by six 300s. Gilbert told me 2:51 for the 1000. Nonsense I thought. Duane, Roger and I settled on 3:00 even as a good goal and I clocked 3:04. And I was toast afterwards. I thought, another 600 meters? No way. That’s when I figured sub-five was a dream. But I did the six 300s all at 53/54, and though I was wiped out for the next 24 hours, it probably was an accurate predictor of my performance today.

As I say, I was wiped out for the Wednesday six-mile PBJer. It felt like the toughest run I’ve done in a good while. I don’t think I ever got below 8/mile and I struggled at that. The legs felt like steel jello. Stiff and wobbly.

Thursday was some sort of mix-up and I ended up running a 1000 with Paul and Desiree, getting berated by Gilbert for it, and trying to salvage the morning with 4×100 and 2×200. Felt like a washout of a workout.

I’m a fan of you.

One last thing. Have you ever lost a key in your crotch? That’s where I found mine. Disturbing.