4:01. There. I said it. Two minutes faster, and the first digit would have been a 3. That had been my goal, my quest, my great ambition. It would have proven, at least to me, that I'm not slowing down in my extreme old age. But now, I guess I am.
I love everything about this little race in Blacklick, PA. If you don't know where Blacklick is, it's between Blairsville and Indiana (the city, not the state). Still confused? It's a little over an hour from Pittsburgh. The race is simply out and back on the Ghost Town Trail, a crushed limestone rails-to-trails path that follows the Blacklick River. I've run the thing four times now, including last year, and I've enjoyed each one of them.
 |
| Before the start. The big flag blew underneath the bridge. And the cannon was about to go BOOM. |
Ever have a race where your training, final preparation, and execution go just according to plan? Me neither. But today, I had two out of three. And the third (you guessed it, the execution) was mostly going the way I'd wanted as well. Until about mile 23.
My pace had been steady. Very steady. All I needed to do was to keep it going. Alas, I couldn't. I knew by mile 24 that it wasn't going to happen. The thing is, 26 miles is a long way. More to the point, it's a long way to hold a steady pace. All along, I'd been thinking about picking the pace up for the final few miles. It's been a while since I've been able to do that. Would today be the day? Unfortunately, no. It went the other way; my nine-minute miles became nine-thirties and tens.
One other bad thing about my race. The entire thing seemed more difficult than it should have. I never quite felt at ease, as steady as the pace was. I'm not sure what to make of these here feelings. I'd been thinking of the Kenyan runners' motto: train hard, win easy. I think I only got the first part right. But I'm not done (for the year or for my life). I've got more to do. Gonna work on that win easy part.
No comments:
Post a Comment