Tonight, after hours – well, really, days – of agonizing over my ability to run, I just got out there and did something.
I was supposed to run for an hour. I ran for 33 minutes, but was out for longer, and my average pace was 14:21/mile. I stopped once to stretch. I was going to stop once I reached my block. I went past it. I did not do my absolute best, but I have to get through this challenge. And tonight, that was just getting out the door. That was saying, “I don’t want to do this, not one bit, but I’m going to anyway.”
The absolute limit for the official finishing marathon time is 14:53/mile. I know I can meet that. I just need to get my body to move. At the same time, I need to take care of my injury (possibly injuries). I need to take care of my body. I need to go on when I feel like stopping, but I need to be wise. I need to be patient. I need to hydrate. I need to eat.
No, really. I’m hungry.
Tomorrow’s workout is the negative split, in which you run back faster than the pace at which you began. I remember the last time I did this, how surprised I was that I actually did it. How I did something I thought I could not do. I’m going to try to go into it tomorrow with no expectations (cockiness leads to disastrous results, sometimes) – but I will also try to have faith (and not in the George Michael [or Limp Bizkit] way).
Have a good night, everyone.