Alright, five down, one to go. Just one more mile. I’m so tired. Maybe I should just start walking. NO! Don’t walk. You can’t walk. There’s just one mile left. If you can’t finish six miles, how are you going to finish 13.1 in three weeks? THREE WEEKS, man. I mean, I can finish 13.1 but maybe I just won’t be running it all. Maybe I should’ve had my preworkout before this – it made my run a lot easier last week. A lot faster, too! Man, my pace is sucking it really hard today. I’m going to humiliate myself during this half marathon – probably come in last place.
Question: Does it really matter? I mean, you’re running a half marathon for Christ’s sake. Sure, there will be a lot of other people doing it, but compared to the population of Knoxville, the state of Tennessee, the entire country, you’re doing more than most everyone! Just finishing is a feat in itself! Yeah, but I’m so slow. My PR is going to suck. Who cares, though? The only goal here is to finish, even if you have to wounded aligator across the 50 yard line in Neyland Stadium. And a PR is a PR no matter what the time is. No matter how awesome or how poorly you do, you’re going to PR. A PR is a PR…Unless I DNF. WHAT IF I DNF?
Another question: Why am I using all the acronyms if this is my inner monologue? Half a mile left…
And so went my thoughts during the last mile of my long-ish run on Saturday. I’m truly excited about this race coming up, but I’m also still terrified of embarrassing myself. What I can’t quite figure out is who I’m afraid of embarrassing myself in front of. No one else in my entire family has ever attempted the half-marathon. The few friends I have that have actually participated in them are more than supportive and encouraging and I’m confident they will remain so no matter how I finish. The other runners on the course will start out as anonymous fellow runners and will likely finish the same, and have very little – if any – concern about me or my performance when they have a race of their own to run. Furthermore, I’m a 220 lbs man that’s more into lifting than running nowadays, more concerned with building muscle than shrinking. So who who’s going to be so disappointed in me that it’s stressing me out?
Nobody. At least, I think it’s nobody. Probably all in my head. Definitely all in my head. Part of me thinks that I have this idea that I’m going to disappoint someone or embarrass myself as a means of making myself stay focused; to remind myself that this race does mean something to me.
That’s silly, but whatever it takes, I suppose.
Running this week wasn’t what I was hoping it would be. I still got some miles in but I was hoping to get in at least one more mile than last week’s 7 miles. After my Title Boxing Club Power Hour on Friday, I strapped on the running shoes and hit the trail, looking to run two miles. However, during the entire first mile I kept reminding myself that I had already burned 1,000+ calories during the morning Power Hour and was on the schedule to teach a kickboxing class at noon. So, I mean, 1 mile is pretty good, right? Made sense to me, so I stopped at one mile.
Lame. Weak. Cheater.
Saturday’s run was longer than last week’s but it wasn’t as good. Just like last week, I started off with a 15 minute warm-up at Title and then hit the button on my Runtastic app at the front door, circled the building, ran behind the theatre and started down the beautiful Knoxville 10 Mile Greenway. My goal was 6 miles and almost immediately I started trying to justify only running two. Keep pushing… Okay, maybe I’ll just run 5k. No pain… Fine, all I have to do is run 3 miles and suddenly I don’t have a choice but to have a full 3 miles back to the gym.
I got six miles in, for sure, but I wasn’t super happy with my pace. Wasn’t super happy with my stamina. I made it, and I’m sure I can finish 13.1, but poor runs like this don’t do a lot to help the confidence.
On a few positive notes: it’s near-perfect running weather in Knoxville right now. Temperatures in the 50s-60s before midday, cool breeze in the air. Yesterday was a little bit humid, so my sweat didn’t really go anywhere – just stuck to me like an ogre, making my t-shirt feel like a 50lbs weight vest. I hate heat, but if I’m going to run, I’d much rather be out there when it feels so nice. You’re a runner, you’re supposed to be sweaty and gross.
Speaking of sweaty and gross, here’s a shoe I saw on the side of the trail yesterday. It wasn’t there last week, so I have no idea how it grew moss so quickly. Pretty rad, though:
21 days until 13.1. 21 days until the true death.
|Mileage||7 Miles (11.27km)|
|Avg. Pace||11:26/mile (7:06/km)|
|Runtastic Runs (1/01-Present)||49.18 Miles|
|Total Yearly Miles||49.18 Miles|
Miles Left Until 2016 Goal (350 Miles): 300.82 Miles
Been writing a little more recently and I’m enjoying it. Look out for a few posts soon about how shitty I think gender roles are, and how I’ve recently been questioning how, as a disgusting runner, runners are allowed to be so disgusting.