Saturday morning marked completing my second of two half marathons in the last 6 weeks. Got the T-shirt and beat my previous PB by another 2 minutes and some seconds. I was aiming to better it by 5 to 7 minutes but a run of carby meals in the last two weeks, a tweaked knee (thankfully better by mile 3; long story) and some intestinal cramping around mile 9 scuttled those plans.
Longest stretch of non-stop running so far: 45 minutes. Had seriously considered going much longer but the hill looming just ahead laughed at me.
Curious to again notice that faster runners' foot falls are so quiet. And nearer the start, the noisy ones that seem to be running their shoes through a dull stump grinder calibrated to a Richter scale. Mine? Somewhere in between. Honest. Really.
And is there anything more depressing during a race than to be passed by three different pace groups? A couple of times each? As they talk in full sentences? It should be very motivating recalling those @#$ moments during training runs for the next race. (By my chip time at least, I did beat that third group by one minute, but who's counting?) One memorable highlight was a stride-for-stride sprint down part of the last quarter mile to the finish line. What a fun way to spike the heart rate monitor at the end of the race. And it was the safest place to do it too! Right before the well-staffed ambulance at the corner.
Silly as it may seem after a quite a few races, I realized that beating one's PB in close succession could be considered a rather masochistic activity. Doing so makes the next attempt that much harder. Duh! So I am considering adding a cat-o-nine-tails to cross-training to toughen up. I'll start with puffed wheat glued to soft yarn then graduate to lead shot, broken glass and braided wet leather as I get better. Seems like a plan.
Longest stretch of non-stop running so far: 45 minutes. Had seriously considered going much longer but the hill looming just ahead laughed at me.
Curious to again notice that faster runners' foot falls are so quiet. And nearer the start, the noisy ones that seem to be running their shoes through a dull stump grinder calibrated to a Richter scale. Mine? Somewhere in between. Honest. Really.
And is there anything more depressing during a race than to be passed by three different pace groups? A couple of times each? As they talk in full sentences? It should be very motivating recalling those @#$ moments during training runs for the next race. (By my chip time at least, I did beat that third group by one minute, but who's counting?) One memorable highlight was a stride-for-stride sprint down part of the last quarter mile to the finish line. What a fun way to spike the heart rate monitor at the end of the race. And it was the safest place to do it too! Right before the well-staffed ambulance at the corner.
Silly as it may seem after a quite a few races, I realized that beating one's PB in close succession could be considered a rather masochistic activity. Doing so makes the next attempt that much harder. Duh! So I am considering adding a cat-o-nine-tails to cross-training to toughen up. I'll start with puffed wheat glued to soft yarn then graduate to lead shot, broken glass and braided wet leather as I get better. Seems like a plan.
