Sunday morning I woke up with a warm almost 2 year old by my side. The rest of the family was away. It was just me and the pooch. I had planned to finish up on report cards before leisurely going for a little warm up run and then down to the beach to do a 5K race, but Winnie would have nothing to do with that. She needed a run and a jog wouldn't do. So, I got the chuck it and the poop bags. Off we trotted to Peabody School to have a few rounds of fetch. Eventually the tuckered pooch let me get her back on her leash to head home where I quickly pinned on my number and hopped in the car heading south.
I don't really know why I signed up for the 5K. I hadn't run a 5K in probably 2 years. I hadn't run faster than one mile at a 7.42 pace during one of my long runs a few weeks back... and that was a struggle. I decided to make 8 minute miles my goal and be pleasantly surprised with 7.40's. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt myself right out of the chute.
Fortunately, I saw Stewart and Deborah at the start. I knew I could keep up with them if I were ready to. I also knew that if I ran faster than they did I was going to hurt myself. At the "ready start" I was relaxed and felt strong. At the half mile or so I looked at my Garmin that had me at a 6.45 pace with Stewart and Debora not far ahead. I decided to ease into it a bit even though I did feel just fine. I just didn't want to regret going out too fast and hurting myself. I didn't want to strain or feel pain.
At the turn around at the top of the hill I let myself check my watch again. It was in the 7's... I felt good. Nauseated yes, but staining and paining, no. I decided I could pick it up a little if I needed to at the end so I lived into it a little more. I felt strong and in control. A chickipoo with really heavy breathing panted up on to me at about mile 2. Wow! I was glad to not be working so hard! But, I felt strong and steady, so I let her go. I wasn't racing. I was just glad to be running a good pace with so little effort. (Well.... effort yes, threshold, no ) And....most importantly, I felt like both my legs were in the game! Yipppppeeeee!!!!
With .1 of a mile to go and on flat land, I picked it up for a little bit of a kick. It wasn't a strain or pain but it was effort. The whole time I was very aware of the fragile balance of my to easily hurt untrained legs. But, oh.... it felt so good to go through that chute. I love running. I have missed it. 21.52 (7.03) miles isn't a PR but it wasn't my worst and it isn't my last.
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