This blog is now retired. My new site is at: Predictably Irrational.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Go Ahead, Catch Me

Today was my second Chase Run.

I've been pretty scared about doing this one again. The first one hurt and I don't like to hurt.

And yet, this is something I have been trying to overcome. The fear of hurt. So I can run past my comfort zone. I'm a chickenshit. I like to run races...comfortably. Is that too much to ask?

So I am scared to do it but I want to do it. I want to overcome this fear. But I'm scared to hurt.

"Sandbagging" is a term to refer to someone who claims to run slower than they actually can. This is actually a negative term but personally, I am OK with being a sandbagger.

I'd like to be given a slower time and run a little faster than that. I don't want to be held accountable for a fast time.

And having a coach doesn't help me sandbag.

I offered to do an 8:45 pace or slower...she decided to have me do an 8:35 pace. That's what I get for trying to be a good know, make sure I make her look good by making my time?

Well, I did (make her look good). But based on HER time. I ended up averaging an 8:25 pace, even 10 seconds faster than the fast pace that Coach B had me going. And it's 13 seconds faster than my first Chase run.

So what does that mean? I can run faster than I think I can.

But it also means it hurts.

The first two miles were great. But it's sort of a downhill start. And I know this. And yet I couldn't hold my pace back. I tried. I looked at my watch a zillion times trying to get out of the 8-teens. I didn't want to feel dead at the end.

At the two mile turn-around, that's when it all hit me: this is hard and I'm hurting and I *still* have two miles to go.

I try to think of nothing. I count, which I do anyway, but I am really thinking about my numbers now. Counting with a rhythm.

During the run, I knew one of the runners was behind me. He quickly got to me about 1/4 mile in but didn't pass me, so I realized he was drafting off me. It didn't bother me and truthfully, I needed that to keep me going.

After about 2.5, he passed me, and compadre Felipe also caught up with me and passed. I didn't care. Every GD one of them could have passed me and I wouldn't have cared...well, just a little. And I probably would have cared when it was all over.

Anyway, from mile 2.25 until 3.80, I wanted to bag it. Stop. Walk. Let all the MFers pass me. I don't care. GO.

But I do care. And I don't want to bag it. I think of vague events I've seen on reality shows, where contestants give up because it becomes too hard. I didn't want to be one of them. Imagine. Inspired by a reality show.

I also thought of Tony Horton and one of his many encouraging quotes "Do the best and forget the rest." So I was trying very hard to forget the rest.

And I did it. I don't know how I made it to the end. But I did.

And I SPRINTED to the end. I heard someone behind me and in the back of my mind, I thought "OK, I cannot let HIM catch ME." And I didn't. So that was the .15 left of the chase run that I decided no one would catch me...all the rest was up for game.

No comments:

Post a Comment