Today it was over 30 degrees by 10 am. It was the weather for going to beach, the pool, or lying inside with curtains closed drinking iced drinks. It was absolutely not the weather for running a 10 km race. It was not the weather for walking a 100 m really. But, we’d signed up, husband and I, so, not wanting to waste our 8 Euro investment, we were up at 7 am and en route to the start.
It was pretty horrible. I went out too fast, got around 5 km in under 30 minutes then absolutely and utterly crashed. Crashed, with a capital C. After 6 km, I was walking, had been overtaken by a couple pushing their child in a stroller (ultimate respect!) and had all but decided to give up. I’m not 100% sure why I didn’t, but, when I went through the last loop, a cup of much needed water in hard, having been showered by a sprinkler and found pace with two other runners, I dug deeper and kept going.
Now, by kept going, there was no sprint finish, no personal best time (I was a good 7 minutes slower than my last 10k) and there was definitely no style. I plodded along, sweating and bright red with one thought in mind: all that matters is finishing this.
And I did. 66 minutes after I started, having been soaked by some kind lady throwing water over flagging participants (a huge part of the reason I kept going, actually), I finished. I wasn’t far off being last, I wasn’t far off giving up, but I still felt feel pretty awesome. I saw for myself the value in taking part and doing something for myself, against myself with no thought to who else did what.
And then I went home, had a long, cold shower and a nap!
thing in mind