This morning I went out for an easy five-mile run. On my way down the hill, I saw a friend running in a different direction than I normally go, but running with someone is always better than running alone, so I switched direction and tagged along. We had a lovely run for about a mile, although she pushed me a bit–I hadn’t planned on going quite so fast. I was huffing, but I felt great. We were booking. I looked good! And then she said it. “I’m sorry I’m going so slowly. I’m at the end of a 22 miler.” And sure enough I looked at my watch and we were running a blistering 10:37 pace. How humiliating.
When I was a kid, at bedtime my father often sang me a song about an old Cadillac trying to keep up with a Nash Rambler. (My father was not known for his traditional lullabies.) The gist of it is the Cadillac gives it everything he has and he finally thinks he’s going to take the lead, when the guy from the Nash Rambler calls out, “Hey buddy! How do you get this car out of second gear?”
I am a Cadillac. Old. Slow. Out of fashion.
I hadn’t run in over two weeks. In London, Adam left before 7 a.m. for work and no way was I getting up at 5:30 on vacation to go running. When we got back I had a wicked cold and then we had our lone snow storm of the year, so I’ve been out of commission for a while. I wasn’t really in the mood to start back up today, but Adam just left for yet another trip to London (I don’t envy this trip; he flies overnight to London, goes straight from the airport to meetings, then instead of getting to sleep, he hops another flight tomorrow night to Germany), and I knew that if I didn’t run today, it would be another week.
I did five miserable miles. At points I was running as slow as 10:45. Okay, that’s a lie. I was running 11:00 minute miles. Which wouldn’t be so bad if that hadn’t actually been 11:12 miles.
Running is hard. Stopping running and then running again is even harder. I hate being slow. (At my peak I was doing my “easy” runs at a 9:30 pace. I haven’t seen my peak in about five years.)
And this bowl full of Hamantashen dough isn’t helping, either. Mmmm, Hamantashen dough!
My routines have been completely thrown out of whack lately. My writing has slipped. My running has slipped. My general hygiene has slipped (many folks may recall that when I don’t run, I don’t see the point of showering). This is the week I take charge! Exercising! Writing! Showering! Getting through my to-do list!
Charge!
Although, at a 10:37 pace, it’s not really a charge, is it? It’s much more of an amble. If I could only get out of second gear.
Running IS hard and speed is relative. You did not look slow when I saw you this morning. You looked like you were working, but you looked happy. In the end, that is all that matters, right?
Hello fellow Runner-girl:
My five miles today were about same pace. Just to show how ambling my pace was-I was listening to CS Lewis Prince Caspian on the iPod. Definitely not a hard-press soundtrack. 🙂
Keep up the good work.
Aw, thanks, Ana-Maria. As I said to someone else, a bad run is always better than no run! So, yes, I guess I was happy.
And, Kate, you better run with me this weekend, to get me back on track!