I Know I Am A Runner… #3

…when I beat myself up over walking.

Today a five-miler was on the docket, but I definitely needed to be up by 5 AM to make it a reasonable endeavor. The temperature was a LOW of 70° F, and with the humidity high in my part of New Hampshire, I would need every ounce of strength I had.

I woke up at 6:30, and didn’t find the Garmin until 7. Shit.

So, out I trot to do my run at 7:05, and I can already feel beads of sweat starting to coalesce on my forehead. The air is tepid, thick, and it is pissing me off. When my watch beeps to let me know it has connected to the Mother Ship, I begin to run, and I keep a constant mental reminder: you will go slower. You will go slower. You will go slower.

And I do, for the first mile. In fact, I go so slow during the first mile (7:34, which I know to some is NOT slow), that I feel the need to speed up during the second mile (7:14), which is a primarily uphill stretch. Not a good idea. At my turnaround, I had spent all of my energy on the hills getting there that I was zapped for the hills on the way back. (I also, apparently, forgot to remind myself that every uphill has a downhill, especially on an out-and-back.)

So, I get to a hill after mile 3 that absolutely demolishes my spirit and my stamina. I take a thirty PACE walk. Not seconds…but paces. My paces are less than a second long.

I had to walk one more time on a killer hill at mile 4, so I felt the need to speed through the rest of the run, blowing by a group of three ladies walking a dog and running right next to this rabid black lab that has ripped his owner’s lawn to shreds running around and barking at everyone. And the whole time during the last mile, I’m thinking this really sucks.

I look at my watch only to find that walking lost me FOUR SECONDS per mile. FOUR.

So, the lesson is this: some days, you just don’t have it in you, so don’t be ashamed to walk if you must. It happens. There’s always another run.