As much as I tried not to focus on my pace or any metrics relating to running as I prepared for the 5K tomorrow, I simply was not able to do it. I am just hard-wired that way.
When I finished running 30 minutes yesterday, I looked and saw my pace was around 10:49 for the 2.78 miles that I ran. Instead of celebrating the fact that I had just completed something that I had not done in about 10 years (running 30 minutes without stopping), I instantly started beating myself up about how slow I ran. As if the pace at which I run somehow invalidates the event itself. All of this in preparation for an event that is dedicated to raising funds for a population of people who may never run a 5K in their entire lifetime.
It isn’t always to keep the car heading in the right direction.
Last night, I dropped off some items at church and had a brief chat with a volunteer who is working a table at the 5K on behalf of our church. She jokingly said, “It would take me a long time to run a mile. Probably like 8 minutes.” And then my heart sank even further while I tried to maintain composure. My best mile right now sits at 9:35. I will admit that was not me pushing hard for a PR, but still, a lot slower than 8 minutes. Maybe she had no true understanding of how long her mile would be or what she could run a 5K in. I started thinking, “Yea, that’s cool and all but can you even deadlift your own bodyweight bro?” Because not being able to deadlift your own bodyweight would somehow even the score of my slow running abilities.
None of that really matters.
It was just another example of how some comment crept into my head that shouldn’t have.
Our family is doing this event together. It is for a great cause. I have managed to stick to the training plan for 8 weeks, on top of lifting and cycling on a regular basis. That is a big victory to me. If I go out and run the slowest 5K that I have ever run in my life, it will still be better than what I was capable of doing a month ago.