thursday i spent the day at home working on something hard. and it got harder and harder as the afternoon progressed, and i got more and more frustrated. and then at like 7pm i thought... oh. wait. i see what is happening here. i am getting SICK. fuck.
that caused me a lot of oh, fuck: because, 1. i have all the work to do. and 2. i had a 5k race to run saturday morning.
on thursday night, i slept 13 slightly-feverish hours.
on friday, i didn't do a lot. i put up the christmas tree, did some sloooow (hard?) pilates, and had a couple medicinal beverages with a friend. however, i also spent the evening chilling with my other half, who keeps later hours than i do, so i went to bed at 2am.
and so 6 hours later on saturday morning, i had a cup of coffee and thought: ok, i feel good enough to run. not totally fine, but certainly alive enough. i don't have a cold, so my airways were clear, but i had less energy than your typical me. also it was -14C with the windchill, which is colder than it has been -- and it was that kind of deceptive cold where it's sunny and bright and the sky is bright blue with those white wispy clouds, but turns out that air is brittle and the wind is like an ice-whip? yes, that. great.
but! i put on many things. (I REMEMBERED NOT TO EAT OATMEAL FOR BREAKFAST). and i headed out to the one little pretty street of old town lansing. then, i got a bib and a thick red-and-grey santa toque as swag (not bad!), appreciated the dedication of the other 250 people stomping and freezing wearing absurd christmas decorations and snow-witch costumes (seriously, silver pants, calm down), ran a few warm up blocks to be sure i wasn't kidding myself that i could run, ditched my Garmin to run on feel (excellent idea, am pretty sure), experienced the world's wobbliest port-o-potty (think: trying to pee on a surfboard; ok stop thinking that) and lined up in a rather ragged but cheerful pack on the river trail. and then -- let's go!
it was an out and back, and i felt about the same the whole time: uncomfortable, but not going to quit. it wasn't easy, it wasn't deathly, but i mostly held on. the mile markers were hilarious: although i was watchless, i think the 1 mile marker was about right; the 2 mile marker was honestly 100 yard later, and there were no others. um, what. about a kilometer in, after passing a fair number of people who clearly did not take the 'line-up-according-to-pace' message to heart, i was passed by two women, who were moving slightly faster than me but making it look easy. ... in contrast, i'm pretty sure i was not making it look easy.
so! i decided to not lose them. and i spent the next four kilometres between 5 and 10 paces behind them. when i finished about 10 seconds behind them, i felt fairly triumphant about that! i also kind of wanted to puke, but we've been there before. and now the internet results tell me that they were 23 and 22! also, they probably were going for a jog, but nevermind.
i finished in 25:17, which was 18 seconds slower than i wanted. not bad for a slightly sick and tired me! and i feel like the return to a sub-25 minute 5k is definitely within reach. it's crazy how racing helps -- the last time i was out running and tried to pick up the pace for 5k i ran it in like 27:10, and thought -- man, am i filled with concrete? but having those 23 year olds to chase, i guess... and really, it's a pretty excellent toque. so wins all round.
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