I used this Sunday as a "test run" for Surf City. I figured the fatigue in my legs would be comparable to the fatigue at mile 20. Instead of taking it easy like I normally would in this predicament, I decided to test out Marathon Pace. My calves felt tight and sore from Friday's speed workout and every stride was hurting from the start. Not pain per se, just sore and tight.
Only a runner can appreciate my awful clothing choices.
My sister, the fashionista, would gouge her eyes out
if she had to look at me like this.
We stuck to marathon pace (or a bit faster) for the last 6 miles. I couldn't wait to be finished. I was picturing our car and how nice it would be to sit my butt in that passenger seat. I couldn't help but imagine all of the food I would soon be consuming without regret or hesitation. I just wanted to be done.
We finally got there and of course my first words were, "Screw this! I will not be running that pace for 26.2 miles! Hell no!"
I should probably get my attitude in check, huh?
Of course, I changed my mind minutes later and realized a training run doesn't even compare to a race. The energy from the crowd is not present on a training run. Neither is the roadside support that would have helped big time. My body was tired from the start and on race day it will be nicely rested. I will be pumped and ready to run my heart out when I get to that starting line.
Hopefully everything comes together and I am able to hit my Marathon Pace. But, if that doesn't happen, there is ALWAYS another race. There is always tomorrow. In the end, my finish time is meaningless to everyone but me. Regardless of pace, I am going go out there and have fun. I will enjoy this race because I GET to run a marathon. I am lucky and grateful for this opportunity.
26.2, here I come!