I went for a run yesterday, ramping back up into my half marathon training plan after a few unscheduled interruptions (stomach bug, some over-use soreness in my right ankle from ramping up so quickly).
I was feeling discouraged, because it was frustrating to start back out there on the road after a few missed workouts. I’d been so zealous about my training while I was up in Maine. My family came and watched the boys, I did my runs, I met my interval times, I put in the required miles, I was DOING it.
Now it felt like I was most definitely NOT doing it.
Worse yet, I was running in a hand-me-down (to Greg and then to me) hat that was race gear from one of his brother’s triathlons. Greg’s brother is a professional triathlete. As his cast-off race gear boasting “70.3” miles kept my part from getting sunburned, I threw down a half mile interval just barely under 9 minute pace. Then I thought to myself about how his MARATHON pace is in the 5s, and I can’t do half a mile (there was a slight uphill, I swear) in the 8s without pulling over afterwards, lungs burning, chest heaving, deer flies catching up to me.
I was embarrassed. I was thinking about how ridiculous I must look, and what a horrible runner I am, and good heavens what would my brother-in-law the professional triathlete think.
And then I realized… shoot, he’d think it was awesome. OF COURSE he understands what it feels like to push harder than you’re used to, and run when your lungs and legs feel like they’re on fire. How the hell did he get to where he is? He did this, over and over and over again FOR YEARS. And of course he wouldn’t expect me, who started running casually two years ago and probably logs a tenth of the miles in a week that he does, to run even close to as fast as someone who went from high school to college track star and on to become a professional triathlete. Duh. This is science and common sense.
I could jog comfortably along at 10:30 pace and feel satisfied because I was running, but when I push, even if I have to stop, ESPECIALLY when I have to stop, that’s when I’m making progress. Every time I fail, it’s because I finally tried to do something too hard and push the boundaries and the limits of what I can do comfortably.
So yes, I just wrote a blog post about a fleeting moment when I shared something in common with professional athlete Mike Caiazzo. (Besides his last name.)
I plan to fail again at running next week… and the week after that, and the week after that. It’s just that this year’s failures are a lot more impressive than last years. This year, I fail running intervals. Last year, I failed to run intervals at all. This year, my 10 mile run came in slower than expected in the heat. Last year, I was still at 9 miles for my longest run EVER.
Fail on, friends. Fail on.
I did some awesome failing last week when I ran with my neighbor (who is an avid runner) and we ran in our neighborhood with lots of hills traversing 3.8 miles. I ran and walked and ran and walked but I was out there doing it.
Yea, I get this! I was outclassed in a small race last night on a very hilly, 3.33 mile section of NH! Made some new friends and the 21 people in front of me (there was only 1 behind me) were at the finish line cheering me on. Many finished in 18-something minutes, but they encouraged my 34:30 effort and invited me to their outing next week:) A year ago I didn’t think I’d be brave enough to try, so my “fail” is still a “win”.
That’s awesome! I love 5ks because they cater to runners of all experience levels and are a great chance to get to know people and cheer each other on. It’s fun for me when I run the same 5k as Greg because even though my pace is slower than his by a significant amount, in a 5k, that means waiting minutes instead of almost an hour like our last half marathon!