I ran a lovely solo 3 miles this afternoon since my husband is in Prince Edward Island with his family. I genuinely can't remember the last time that I ran by myself. It was nice. My husband and I usually run together, which is great, but sometimes I feel a little bad for holding him back. He says I don't, but realistically, he's much faster than I am.
It's a good thing I had a nice time doing it, because otherwise the 10K I'm running this weekend would be miserable!
I'm also using the 10K as a bit of a pace endurance test. My training plan calls for 5 miles this weekend, with 3 of them being at race pace. So my plan is to start off gently with a 13:00/mile or so, and then pick up the pace to closer to an 11:30 or a 12:00/mile. I know, not so fast for most people, but pretty fast for this undertrained shambles of a gal.
If I'm being honest with myself, 13:00/mile might be more realistic for the Disneyland half, and it would still be faster than my Princess Pace, but I'm stubborn (see my achilles tendinitis for proof of my bull-headed denial).
It occurs to me that it may not make sense for me to keep doing this to myself.
When I first started running (goal of completing C25K), it was rough on my knees, and I frequently wore a patellar band (or 2!) for runs.
Then it was my hip flexor being super tight and painful (trying to do C210K, which I was unable to complete).
Then my achilles (during Princess Half Marathon training - did it!).
Now I'm getting a weird pain in the ball of my foot.
Mix in the health trouble I was having on the ship, and I am baffled.
Why do I keep coming back to it?
Yes, I liked getting a medal at the Princess Half. I know I'm looking forward to receiving my Disneyland Half medal, along with my Coast to Coast medal. But that's not all.
I think because it is hard, and as a result I feel like I'm accomplishing something significant. As I check in on my Garmin, and wonder if I can keep that pace, or last another quarter of a mile to make it a full mile... I like the fact when I run, my body is getting stronger and that I can tell because I have data to back it up. (Hello gadgets!) I like those little mental boxes that I check off as I go make me feel that running is a series of small victories.
Heck, just getting out the door is a victory some days. Am I right?