Confidence crusher

Today was my first race of the summer racing season, the Minnetonka 1/2 Marathon.

Laura and I planned on running a pace of between 8:15 minute miles and 8:20 minute miles.  If we could finish in that time, we could slot it into the magical mathematical marathon equation of adding 10 minutes to your half marathon time and get our amazing marathon time.

And to be completely honest here, we would like to run the marathon in 3:45.  Why 3:45?  It qualities us for the Boston Marathon.

That said, it was a beautiful day.  And on that beautiful day, by mile 3 I knew I was having trouble.  We had started a little fast, I got a little hot and then the deep dark inner recess of my mind took over.  YOU CAN’T DO THIS PACE.

Once again, to be honest, I knew that pace was going to be hard for me.  In fact, I did not think I could do it.  I knew I could do 8:30’s but with the threshold work we had been doing I knew that 13.1 miles of that pace was going to be hard.

As I fell back, I waved Laura on, go seriously, I’ll be ok.  We were running with another friend of hers and they both felt great.  I fell back a little more around mile 4 or maybe 5, she looked back again.  Once again I waved her on.  I know Laura well enough to know, that even when she makes her goal, if she has more in the tank, she is not satisfied, even with that goal.

I wanted her to go on and do the best she could.  Go, go, I gave her the thumbs up, GO! I was resigned to the fact that I would throttle back and enjoy the day, trying to be ok with my time and full well knowing I now was not good enough to really think I could attain the ultimate runner’s goal of running Boston.

A touch later, Laura circles back.  I wanted her to go.  I knew she would be pissed at the outcome.  She says to me, you have run with me for the past two 1/2 marathons and we are running it together. And how I needed her. Seriously needed her.

The remaining miles were a struggle for me.  It’s dark in my head.  I do not do well alone.  I gather strength from others, typical extrovert even in racing.  I don’t like feeling weak and I felt weak.  The legs just would not turn over, my toes were going numb and it just was not going right.

We finally finished, together, at 1:51 at 8 minute 30 second miles.

As I retold the story of Laura turning around to Adam in the car on the way home, I started to cry.  Laura…Thanks for bringing me home, for carrying me and for trying to come up with ANYTHING to talk about.  It meant more than you will ever know.

Now I sit and ponder if I even have that inner steel at all.  It’s disturbing to me.

On a brighter note.  T-odd CRUSHED it and my fly girls Megan and Erika kicked it out of the park.

Way to go everyone!

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