So the race did not go exactly well. Actually it was a friggin’ disaster. What was I thinking?
Well, I had run a 26:47 four-mile race two weeks earlier (6:41 pace) – despite having run hard the day before the race. So I was thinking I had a shot to break my PR of 41:57 for a 10K (6:45 pace). Saturday I did a slow four miles to conserve my energy– but then I was out past 2 a.m. that night, and then didn’t get up in time to eat breakfast.
Still I figured I had a shot. Who needs breakfast, right? A hundred or so yards into the race I see Chelle, and end up running with her for a bit — which may not have been the smartest thing. Everyone needs to run their own race — how many times have I heard that? Not that I increased my pace to catch up with her; we were running about the same speed at that point. The difference is that I crashed and burned after just the two-mile mark(!), while she ran a great race and finished in 41:57 — precisely the time I was running to break.
Splits: 6:44, 7:33, 7:54, 9:20, 9:43 and I didn’t get the last one … but my final time was 51:09, for a 8:15 pace. How friggin’ stoopid – this has to be my worst race in ages.
Running is a funny sport that way, I think. You get cocky, don’t give it your all, and it slams you to the ground.
Bottom line: I should not be thinking I can get back in the shape I was in ’00-’01 with the amount of effort I’ve been putting in these last few months. I’ve been running steadily, five or six times a week, but with hardly any speedwork or particularly hard runs. I need to rededicate myself to the sport if I am ever going to qualify for Boston.
UPDATE: Maybe I’m just getting old. Fuck. Need to get a good night’s sleep before races. The good thing is, I have a fast chance to redeem myself.
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