I laced up my bright colored Asics around 8AM this morning and hit the road running. My husband, Dan, even decided to join me today. He went for a run with me a few weeks ago, but hasn't run since. I was anxious to see if he could actually keep up on our longer, 5+ mile run. I was also secretly hoping that he would need to stop. He is one of those guys that can eat anything, stay the same weight, never work out and still have the same chiseled body. Don't you hate people like that? At least you don't have to live with him!
As we started to head down the street, I immediately thought of what I would write about for this post. I could discuss my favorite running apps, the amazing feel of my Lululemon pullover and NorthFace running tights or even my favorite pump up songs. However, I have decided to go in a different direction for this post:
Today my first mile was a 9:48 pace. For most that probably doesn't seem to be anything special, but when I started running last April I was running 11:30s. I'm averaging 10:15-10:30s now, so when my MapMyRun app told me I was cruising I pulled back a bit, afraid that I'd blow all my steam on mile 1. After all, I needed to show my husband that I've been training and can easily conquer 5+ miles.
Around mile 2.5 I needed to switch my Songza station and caught a glimpse of my running partner's struggles. It sounded a bit like a moaning cat. I smiled and thought to myself: "Yes! Its harder than it looks, isn't it?!" Running takes hard work and dedication, at least for it to be somewhat enjoyable, and the proof was now in the pout across my husband's face.
Upon completion of every run, I immediately look at my pace and review my route. Today's run ended the same, but had a bit of a different feel. I had a revelation: running shouldn't be about pace, where you place or even how you compare to your peers. For most its not even a competition. You need to run for a purpose. It may be a race with others, but its really just a race with yourself. You wont be first, and you most likely wont be last. With that, I apologize, my dear husband, for wishing you to fall, twist your ankle, or have to give up. I'm glad you stayed with me for the whole 5.6 miles!