it will probably take me a couple more days to even think about going for a run again (and many more to consider using stairs), but I already understand why runners say that their first thought when completing a race is often when they're gonna run the next one. Okay, maybe my first one was "where's that Mars stand?", and perhaps I said it out loud, but I'll admit the physical fatigue felt quite faint compared to the general feeling of accomplishment of having finished. Not that I thought I wouldn't be able to do so, but as I laid out last week, I had no such long-distance experience, and so I had real doubts as to how I'd hold up after 7 miles. Doubts which were compounded when I realized that it was actually going to be sunny and warm -for London standards- that morning. But these terrific weather conditions were just one more point in the success column for this first edition of a race that's now destined to become a staple of UK running events. Tremendous organization, a great route and a nice turnout all contributed to rave reviews from all participants I talked to, with which I heartily concur.
Crossing the line at the same time as a coworker, we waited on the Hyde Park grass with a couple of others while we waited for the rest of the corporate team to trickle in. While we were doing so the sun got progressively warmer, and it felt like summer had finally hit London. Adding greatly to the satisfaction was that, finishing in 1h35, I did better than I was aiming for, and some of the coworkers did really well too (the first guy in our group did 1h30, and that wasn't even his PB...).
While initially I had a stated goal of sub-1h45, and an unofficial one of sub 1h40, I had too little experience to know what I could really aim for. For that reason, and out of habit, I just looked at my pace on my timer, trying to stay under 7'30/mile as long as I could. Only after 11miles, the full distance being 13.1m, did I look at the time and realize I was at 1h20. The mental boost this gave me was immeasurable, though unfortunately my stubborn legs refused to follow suit. And the fuzzy math that came with that moment did not help things, as I quickly realized that though I was getting close to finishing, those last 2 miles wouldn't run themselves. Thankfully I was able to find inspiration in the weird pace of a nearby runner, who kept slowing down, get passed by me, then would fly back ahead again only to repeat the same pattern. This reminded me to try to keep going at a steady pace, and the thought of running a good time was enough motivation to not falter. 400 yards from the end there was a final turn and the finish line appeared. At that point it felt like I still had 2 more miles to go, but I spotted the above-mentioned coworker slightly ahead of me and, after tapping him on the shoulder, motioned to him that we should make a go for it. The only problem is that the final sprint works so much better in Hollywood movies than in real life, so I'm not convinced we gained that much speed over those excruciatingly long last "few" yards. And crossing the finish line was weird: it wasn't really the "moment" I thought it would be as much as a bookend to something both horrendous and fantastic. But the bad feelings were gone pretty quickly, and it was the very enjoyable to wait for the rest of the group to join us (the last one finished in 2h30), while drinking gallons of free Powerade. And then we went to the pub, because this is England after all, and because having that first beer after a long run is a fantastic feeling that words would fail to describe.
Before I finish this, 2 stats from the day which I thought were significant:
- my sportband says I used up 1,800cal during my run. Ho-ly cow! Speaking of which, if you don't think I went to Burger King for my post-race meal, you're crazy.
- my finishing time put me in the 95th percentile of the runners, which is a pretty cool, considering there were over 7,500 of them. Running for me is a solo thing, but it's nice to be able to be able to compete in sports again once in a while. Maybe soon I'll start wearing the No Fear t-shirt I loved so much in high school, with its irrefutable slogan: "second place is the first loser". Or not.
While I haven't actually decided what race I'd like to run next, I know there will be a next one at some point. Some point very very far away, while I give my poor calves and joints some much needed quality time. And though I still don't consider myself a runner, today a coworker who took part but hadn't seen my time until this morning came over and said "I didn't know you were a runner?". She meant it as a compliment, and I'll take it.
Crossing the line at the same time as a coworker, we waited on the Hyde Park grass with a couple of others while we waited for the rest of the corporate team to trickle in. While we were doing so the sun got progressively warmer, and it felt like summer had finally hit London. Adding greatly to the satisfaction was that, finishing in 1h35, I did better than I was aiming for, and some of the coworkers did really well too (the first guy in our group did 1h30, and that wasn't even his PB...).
While initially I had a stated goal of sub-1h45, and an unofficial one of sub 1h40, I had too little experience to know what I could really aim for. For that reason, and out of habit, I just looked at my pace on my timer, trying to stay under 7'30/mile as long as I could. Only after 11miles, the full distance being 13.1m, did I look at the time and realize I was at 1h20. The mental boost this gave me was immeasurable, though unfortunately my stubborn legs refused to follow suit. And the fuzzy math that came with that moment did not help things, as I quickly realized that though I was getting close to finishing, those last 2 miles wouldn't run themselves. Thankfully I was able to find inspiration in the weird pace of a nearby runner, who kept slowing down, get passed by me, then would fly back ahead again only to repeat the same pattern. This reminded me to try to keep going at a steady pace, and the thought of running a good time was enough motivation to not falter. 400 yards from the end there was a final turn and the finish line appeared. At that point it felt like I still had 2 more miles to go, but I spotted the above-mentioned coworker slightly ahead of me and, after tapping him on the shoulder, motioned to him that we should make a go for it. The only problem is that the final sprint works so much better in Hollywood movies than in real life, so I'm not convinced we gained that much speed over those excruciatingly long last "few" yards. And crossing the finish line was weird: it wasn't really the "moment" I thought it would be as much as a bookend to something both horrendous and fantastic. But the bad feelings were gone pretty quickly, and it was the very enjoyable to wait for the rest of the group to join us (the last one finished in 2h30), while drinking gallons of free Powerade. And then we went to the pub, because this is England after all, and because having that first beer after a long run is a fantastic feeling that words would fail to describe.
Before I finish this, 2 stats from the day which I thought were significant:
- my sportband says I used up 1,800cal during my run. Ho-ly cow! Speaking of which, if you don't think I went to Burger King for my post-race meal, you're crazy.
- my finishing time put me in the 95th percentile of the runners, which is a pretty cool, considering there were over 7,500 of them. Running for me is a solo thing, but it's nice to be able to be able to compete in sports again once in a while. Maybe soon I'll start wearing the No Fear t-shirt I loved so much in high school, with its irrefutable slogan: "second place is the first loser". Or not.
While I haven't actually decided what race I'd like to run next, I know there will be a next one at some point. Some point very very far away, while I give my poor calves and joints some much needed quality time. And though I still don't consider myself a runner, today a coworker who took part but hadn't seen my time until this morning came over and said "I didn't know you were a runner?". She meant it as a compliment, and I'll take it.
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