An admitted shoe geek waxes philosophical about running, triathlon, and life in general.
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Monday, July 11, 2011


The run today was one of incongruities.

I wrote earlier that I'm exhausted from the weekend -- two races timed/volunteered, both some distance away. Lots of time on my feet, and toting equipment around. Bad sleep, from having AC units kicking on next to an unfamiliar bed, to just plain short nights.

My original plan was to run 6 miles at lunchtime, but not press the pace. I figured that my legs were somewhat rested from no running all weekend, and keeping the pace reasonable would be prudent given how tired I felt.

So I started off easy into the partly cloudy and 65 degree mid-day. I really didn't feel like I had any snap, but my form felt pretty good. I just cruised along, and re-evaluated at just over 3 miles whether I'd continue. I pushed on, wanting the 6.

I could feel it warming up, knew I was pretty dehydrated (the race mornings don't lend themselves well to keeping up on water intake), and just eased up at about 5 miles. Having to concentrate on keeping the calves relaxed, I backed off even more. I just didn't feel strong, but my form was still holding well.

On the last hill, at 40 minutes, I mentally gave in and stopped to walk a bit. I turned around, making sure I didn't walk any distance forward on my course. Got back to the same point, restarted the watch, and pushed the rest of the way in... stopping the watch at 48:01. For 6.02 miles. Just under 8m/m pace.

So now I know why I wasn't feeling strong -- my pace was "high" for the distance, and I didn't feel like I was pushing the pace at all, but I really was.

Incongruity. When the run is "fast", even when it doesn't feel like it.

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