- I don't know why I even bother.
- I'm dying and it's only been two miles, how the hell am I going to run a marathon?
- I'm never going to requalify for Boston if I don't improve, and FAST.
- This is fucking stupid.
- Maybe I should just downgrade to the half.
- Fuck that, maybe I should just quit racing altogether.
- I am pathetic.
- I'm so fat.
- I've got to get out of this funk.
- Maybe I should just accept that I'm getting older and slower. Maybe 2009 was my last hurrah.
- It didn't used to be this hard. What happened?
I was plodding along around 3.8 miles in, desperately wanting this horrible run to END, when I came to a four-way-stop. I proceeded across the intersection, vaguely aware that a car had pulled up at the stop sign. Then I heard someone call out to me:
"Good job. Keep it up, young lady. Good job."
I looked over and there was an older gentleman in the car. I said, "Thank you!"
No, I didn't start running a 7:30 mile all of a sudden. However, it did lift my spirits a bit. I stopped slouching so badly and finished the run feeling slightly better about myself.
I opted to do my pace run today instead of taking my traditional rest day, thereby freeing up one morning of the weekend for other things. I was determined to get this one right. "Pace" means my marathon pace, 8:35/mile or less. I owned that bitch.
8:24, 8:12 (wtf?), 8:23, 8:24.
Same route, same mileage as Wednesday...but a full minute per mile faster. What's more, I felt great. I was running instead of plodding. Maybe there is hope for me and my second BQ quest after all.
The next time I run will be my 16-miler in the super awesome guest location. I can't wait!