Running is a strange thing. Sometimes, for no reason, it goes terribly. Sure you can train and eat right and not wear new gear and warm up properly, then for no good reason you fail miserably (see my attempt at a marathon). Other times, you expect a huge failure, and somehow you gain wings. Every single time I’ve PR’ed, or even just run fast/easily, it comes as a huge surprise to me. Maybe I don’t have enough faith in myself as a runner!
I mentioned the other day that running has taken a bit of a backseat lately. Adjusting to the night shift has complicated running for me, and I have a nagging Achilles issue that I’d like to fully resolve before something serious happens. I have been running the 1-3 treadmill miles that often opens my Orangetheory classes, but that’s it. Today I thought, “Hey maybe I should try a run on the treadmill?” Before I had the chance to talk myself out of it, I headed to the gym. It was almost 100 degrees today, and my run at noon was happening no where else.
Part of the key for me is not overthinking it. When I spend all day worrying about my run, I talk myself either out of the run or in to problems. Hopping on and getting going was the best thing I could do. My base pace has increased over the past year from 5.5 mph to 6 and finally now to 6.5. I did 1 mile at 6.5 mph, 1 at 7 mph, and 1 at 7.5 mph. The final mile I did splits: 0.2 miles at 8 mph, walk for 0.1 miles. 0.2 miles at 8.2 mph, walk for 0.1 miles. 0.2 miles at 9 mph then 0.2 miles at 9.5 mph. I felt like a beast! I don’t know what clicked, but something was magical and I felt great. If someone could figure out the magic piece to this puzzle, please let me know! Otherwise I remain a slave to this mystery!