How is Thanksgiving only 2 weeks away? Or, perhaps more importantly, how is my second ever 10K race only 2 weeks away?
I decided it was time to up my training. For the past few months I’ve only been running 5K (3 miles) a few times a week, then 4 miles with Stephen on the weekend. The last time I truly ran 10K without counting the walking warm up and cool down may have been last year’s race. So I decided today I was going to do it — I was going to run 10K, to make sure I still can, to test out my new Spotify playlist, and to see if all my sub-30 min 5Ks I’ve been clocking in truly could turn into a sub-hour 10K.
I went into last year’s race with 2 abstract goals: 1. Finish 2. Don’t walk. I managed to do both, albeit slowly. It was my first ever race and I was just excited to be participating. But I’ve been running for a year and a half now, so it’s time I set a real goal — 10K in under an hour.
As I set off to Regents Park this morning I got to thinking about the road trip stages I wrote about 4(?!) years ago. I realized long distance running (shut up, 6 miles is long distance for me!) has similar stages — the initial excitement, followed shortly by Dear God What Am I Doing?! Several times I had to talk myself out of turning around or stopping. In the middle of it time was dragging, and I began questioning why I ever signed up for a 10K and why I would even entertain the thought of a half marathon one day, running more than 5K seemed impossible. And then it started raining, in true London fashion. But I kept going. And going. I got a welcome break at a stoplight, which I almost wish the race would have, but then got going again. I switched my MapMyRun app to kilometers so it would give me updates on pace every kilometer. Of course I started out strong, but then continued to get slower. Once my overall pace slowed to 6:02 per kilometer, sub-60 seemed out of reach. I was down to the last 2 km and stopped at a light. I gave myself a little pep talk, found the perfect song, then gunned it. I could feel a blister forming on my right foot, but I didn’t stop. I was so close. I did the 8th km in 5:41 and the 9th in 5:56. Finishing time? 59:48.
I did it. Even if I can’t do it again in 2 weeks, I now know I’m capable of it. And like every race runner and mother who’s given birth, once I finished I completely forgot how miserable the whole experience was, and was looking forward to doing it again. My friend in Cincinnati texted me that it’s 28F today and I should bring warm clothing for the race. It’s been 55 all week in London, so I’ll have to dig up my thermal clothing to pack. Here’s hoping the polar vortex or whatever it is they’re calling the cold front leaves by Thanksgiving. I’d rather not have a repeat of last year’s 25F race. I even bought a new outfit specifically for the race, since it’s custom to dress somewhat crazy. I told my mom she’ll have to wait to see it in person, but I’ll give a hint — it involves pugs. Lots of them.
And on a final note, while I was buying my pugwear I saw these gloves:
I know this post was probably boring for those of you who don’t care about running, so here’s a pug struggling to reach his goal: