I'm not gonna lie, this week has been challenging. I'm tired from my training, I haven't been feeling well (don't worry, it's not swine flu), my room has been a sauna (not the good Jamaican kind), I'm studying for my tests (which includes reading some books that I just don't get/enjoy), and juggling what feels like a thousand other small tasks and emotions. Wednesday night I could feel myself bending under the pressure but tried to keep a good sense of humor about it all. But yesterday, when I found out an attorney who works across the street from us had committed suicide in his office that morning, I lost it. Like started crying at my desk. Wow, Bradshaw. Pull yourself together. Mom said I should just go home and try to regroup, but, refusing to be defeated, I pulled myself together, finished my day, and went home on time like a responsible adult. But then I did what I do best when I need to cope: I went running.
Usually by Thursday, my body feels pretty beat up by the workouts of the week. I usually tell myself I'm going to do a speed workout but usually end up doing something long and slow. Yesterday, however, I decided I would never know how tough I was until I pushed through those feelings of fatigue. I pretended Coach Barnett was running the workout. There's no way he would give me the day off just because I was "tired." He would have laughed at me. He would have expected me to run so hard I thought my lungs would explode and my legs would ignite and crumble beneath me. He would have told me that was the only way I was ever going to have a chance of making it to the finals. So I decided to see how fast I could run a 10k.
When I finished the first 5k in 21:30, I thought, "A 5k time trial is good enough, right?" Then the image of Barnett popped into my head, screaming at me from across the track with arms waving and ponytail flying when he saw my turnover flagging and my arms creeping up towards my chest. I dug a little deeper, shook out my arms, pushed off harder, put my feet down faster, and settled in for another 5k.
In the end, I beat my old 10k PR by almost a full 2 minutes. I've always wondered what it would feel like to run one in 45 minutes. Now I know: it hurts. But it's possible. Suddenly my training didn't feel for naught; all that fatigue suddenly felt right and proper. Suddenly I'm dreading leg 3 of Ragnar just a little bit less. (But only a little bit.)
2 comments:
Loved your blog.It took me back to the days of Coach Barnett which you portrayed oh so well.Some of life's great lessons have come through running! Congrats on your time! :)
I need to get that voice in my head that tells me to keep running. Usually, the voice is begging me to stop. :)
Post a Comment