Had a great moment on a tough run recently. I’d had a bit too much white wine the night before. Not so much that I woke up with a headache, but I wouldn’t call it hydrating, either. All well and good to have fun and relax on occasion, but I was supposed to do a 5 miler the next morning when I had a babysitter.
The morning rolls around. I head out, and I’m hitting my half-marathon pace rather than my 10k pace, and I take a couple walking breaks, send a couple tweets, and at one point the only reason I keep going is because the deer flies on my otherwise scenic route are in my face if I stop.
I feel pretty lame about it, and then, I realize that even a month ago, I probably would have just turned around after the first mile. A few weeks ago, I would have taken more walking breaks instead of slowing down.
My slowed pace is actually a sign of success. My response when I have a tough run has evolved from turning back, to taking lots of walking breaks, to just slowing down. That’s great. That’s progress. I never once thought about turning it into a three miler, and I only walked twice for less than a minute each time during a 53 minute run. That’s pretty good considering I was feeling a little blah about the whole thing. I didn’t go the extra side street to hit 5 miles instead of 4.91, but I did a lot better than I would have even a month ago.
We all have tough runs, but observing how our resiliency improves over time, and how much better we get at powering through, is more rewarding than if every run were easy.
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| Walking breaks are in blue. Not bad for a run I didn’t really feel like doing. |