Today’s goal: pace of 11:10. My last 10k several weeks prior had been 11:40, so 11:10 seemed to be a reasonable pace to chase. I set my watch to yell at me if I went faster than 10:55 and slower than 11:25. I kissed my fiancé goodbye (for the last time! tee hee) and found a place in the starting corral.
After my obligatory tearing up at a start line, I turned on my music as I crossed the timing mat. The weather was cool – perfect for race day. My watched beeped at me. “10:50,” it read. Oh, self. Slow down. Don’t get caught up in the hype. But I just felt so good! “Ehhhhh. Let’s see how mile one goes!” Unwise, I know. But what’s the worse that could happen? It’s 6.2 miles.
Mile one passed. I checked my heart rate. It wasn’t yelling at me. What the hell, let’s just keep going. I trailed this chick with red hair and we took turns passing each other. She became my buddy, unbeknownst to her.
By the end of mile 5, my watch was yelling at me for my heart rate. “This is a race!” I said to my watch. I ignored it and pushed toward the finish line. By the time it came into view, I felt like my heart was going to bust out of my chest. Perfect.
After I crossed, I checked my watch. 10:40 min/mile! Whaaaaat that means like, I’m a runner or something. I did better than I expected and now 3M is going to help me PR my 10k for my next race! Maybe there’s hope for me after all…