Yesterday, I ran a 5K.
If there's anything I've told the people who've asked me about getting in to running over the years, it's that you can't expect to see fast results. Unless you're genetically predisposed to an elite-level endurance and lithe, lean body (and kind of if you're a guy- they really are divinely "made" to run since they're supposed to be hunting for dinner) it might take a minute or two to see some progress in running. You can add to your 'handicap' if you're starting out at a less than optimal running weight, if you've had kids (things change all up in there thanks to those little boogers), and if you lead a lifestyle that is naturally more sedentary than you'd care for. You can also expect to see little or no progress if your commitment level is mediocre or less- running is fickle. Three days of good workouts can be completely erased by two weeks of "too busy". Once again, unless you're one of the lucky ones who can throw on some shoes and crank out an Ultra while barely breaking a sweat, deciding to have some running goals is largely dependent on your level of commitment. Not unlike getting a puppy.
That's why people quit before they really get to see what their bodies are capable of.
What I found out, early in my own running, was that progress seemed elusive.
I remember slogging along on a treadmill, barely able to keep a 12 minute mile pace for five minutes, just wishing for the day that I could run three miles without stopping. I even wrote that down on a list of goals I found in some old journals I went through a couple of weeks ago. I remember feeling completely spent after the first 10K I did, and how disappointed I was that I walked a good portion of it. I remember, at the end of my first marathon, how I questioned my own sanity and why anyone would knowingly subject themselves to so much pain and misery and was completely baffled by my immediate urge to do it again, and to do it better.
A couple of weeks ago, I got a note from my coach that there were going to be some coaching changes due to her schedule and current commitments. I was a little miffed but also impressed that my coach's training group Mind Right Multisport discussed my training program and goals and paired me up with a new coach. Funny thing, though. He lives in New England. Don't know him, he doesn't know me.
In my introductory conversation with him, I thought I heard an undertone of "you can't do this", sort of based on his questions and comments and what he had seen so far of my training. "Yes, I know I'm slow," I told him. I know I'm "slow" now. I also told him that yes, Boston is the goal. But that I have a realistic view of the goal. If we spend a year or two working on ME, and I do everything I can to move the needle, and we get close but never make it- I'll be okay. That I'm well aware that not everyone can get there. I am okay with his doubt, because I am confident that I will know when I have hit my "arete", my elite. I will know when I have given everything that I can give, and if it's not enough, then that's that. But I'm not even close.
Yesterday was also the first time I was nervous toeing the line. I'd tossed and turned all night, thinking about the way progress works for me in running. It's a long dance of better and worse, and then one day my body decides it's capable of leveling up. I know when I reach a new level that I'll be there for a while, slogging out the miles, until I see another big improvement. This happened before I left New Mexico. I was an 12-minute-mile runner for a VERY long time, and any longer distance included walking. Then one day, 10s where in my wheelhouse and walking was out. Before I left NM, I was easy with a 9:30 pace, really proud of that progress, could hold it for 7 or 8 miles pretty easily, and knew I still wasn't at my peak. I ran my best 5K in 27:15 during this time.
So yesterday, I had convinced myself that a mark of my progress in training would be that I could PR in a 5K. I planned the race in my head, working out a 9:15, 8:50, 8:25 for a 26 minute finish. But I got nervous, and I got to talking with the lady next to me, and I took a position in the pack toward the front. (Which I never, ever do.) She was shooting for a 25 or 26, and I told myself that if I stuck with her I'd hit a PR. My starting pace was 6:40. I do not run 6:40. I was sub-8 for almost 5 minutes and logged the first mile at 8:19. I knew I was in trouble, and I was pissed at myself for forgetting everything I know about pacing yourself. My next mile was 9:28 and my last, 10:06 for a finish time of 28:49.
The lesson was: do what you know. Don't expect to run 7 minute miles when your body only knows how to run 9 minute miles. Don't expect more than you are currently capable of.
I had a good text conversation with my coach about it, basically letting him know that I blew it.
I think I could've done it the way I planned, but I got ahead of myself and I let someone else's race become my race. That's the biggest mistake a runner can make- in fact one of the biggest mistakes we make in a lot of ways. What I love about running is the metaphor it becomes for life. We have to use our own brains, depend on our own hearts, run on our own two feet. Don't let someone else's race become yours.
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