**posted this on my running blog (which i think i am going to get rid of– not sure yet) so i’m re-posting over here**
Almost two weeks ago I completed my first 10K. It would be my longest distance yet. Previously, I had only reached 5 miles in my training but was confident that I could tack on that extra mile when pressed. And what better motivation than to sign up for a race so I HAD to finish.
I had only one goal for the race and it was to run every step. Did I meet that goal? Yes. Yes, I did. I was happy when I crossed that finish line, not only because I did what I set out to do but also because my family was there cheering me on. It was really the first time that they got to see me finish and of course, my kids ran with me the last 10 yards or so.
In the end, my happiness was short-lived. I know that I should be proud of my accomplishment. There are people out there that can’t even walk a mile, much less run 6.2 all at once, so I should be happy, right? I shouldn’t be focusing on my time. Or the fact that I came in LAST in my age group and 4th from last overall. (The other 3 behind me? A old guy with a limp and a mom walking with her 10 year old son who was jogging. Yeah.) I shouldn’t let these things get in my head but they are. They are there and are affecting my motivation to get back to training. This is the part where I confess that I’ve only ran one time since the race…almost 12 days ago. And that run? Yeah…not even a mile. I just wasn’t feeling it. I haven’t felt it since the end of that race when I saw my results.
Everyone tells me that I should be proud that I finished. And I am…kinda. I am glad that I ran every step of that 6.2 miles. I really am. Now why can’t I be PROUD of it too? I really need to get past this whole time/pace thing. I just don’t know how.