Running Slow

First, I had pancakes again for breakfast. What is up with that? All I want is PANCAKES!

I have stated many, many time that I do not like the heat.  Don’t worry.  This isn’t yet another post berating Mother Nature for inflicting her wrath upon me in the form of 90 degree weather and sweat.  But suffice to say yesterday was the type of hellish heat that could warrant at least five separate blog posts on the topic of why I despise the heat.

Instead of whining and crying over the fact that the pavement felt like molten lava under my feet at 5:30 in the evening and chucking my running plans all together, I did the unthinkable.  I steeled my rapidly melting backbone, womaned up and committed to hitting the road at 7:30.

Shoes, meet pavement. Pavement, meet shoes.
On a side note, aren’t my new shoes cute?

Shocking.  I actually did it.  It was so uncharacteristic of me that even the boy was genuinely surprised when I peeled myself off the couch, donned running shoes and muttered something about running in Pompei.

I’ve got a race to run, dammit.

I ran home in the dark. It is much cooler at night. Don’t worry. I was safe. And much, much cooler.

My run was uneventful but rather slow, though consistent in its slowness.  I have been missing that consistency and have really worked to get some semblance of that back.  It is really hard to be consistent when you let yourself be pulled in twenty different directions and skip long runs and such because you are far too busy with something else.  Now that I am refocused, that consistency is coming back with it.  What a concept.

I have always been a slow runner but THIS is slow for me.  Painfully slow.  I am really missing the 11 miles with a passion.  I take some solace in the fact that I can go for miles on back to back days and hardly feel it (I am still undecided if that is good or bad), or that hills no longer scare me, or some such silly nonsense.  The reality is, however, that while I can run further than I have ever been able to run, the pace itself really breaks me down mentally.  In find myself at some points struggling to keep my stride and stumbling into a very pathetic feeling walk before mentally punishing (ie guilting) myself into an unsteady run.  I don’t like that at all.  I am also not very good at telling that inner voice of mine to shut the hell up because I am running here.

I’m told that I will start to get faster again, that I should consider this as a relatively period of time in what will hopefully be years of fun and enjoyable distance running.  Frankly while I tend to lose myself in the negativity of seeing any mile over 13 minutes let alone over 14 minutes I am already starting to see that average pace tick down a little.  Just a little.  I also have to remind myself that running 5K’s for “fun” really isn’t any fun for me at all because I don’t get warmed up until somewhere around 2.5-3 miles or so.  I should stop volunteering to run those with friends and family.  Except for Color Me Rad because that is just plain AWESOME.

Okay, enough self loathing.  I need to keep reminding myself that I am steadily, albeit slowly, moving toward awesomeness.  In fact, I am getting to a whole new level of awesomeness where entering a laid back local half marathon seems like a really good way to get my long run in that week.  And when I had a bill payment to drop off and said something to effect of, “I’ll run that right over” and I actually meant “I’ll run that right over” because it would be a nice 8 miles to get warmed up for my long run on Sunday.  I have issues.

I also have pancakes and pancakes are good.