I want to remember this one for a while. Goal time? Two hours. My friend Rob paced me and told me on Thursday night we would cross the line at 1:57. Not a bad guess, eh?
Thank you Rob. You were steady the whole way through. You knew I had lost 10 seconds on the hill at mile 5 but stayed calm. (Thank you, Moms Run This Town ladies who were at the bottom of that hill cheering! You made that hill seem a lot smaller.) Rob, you did not freak out around mile 8 when I threw a cup of water on myself. I was wearing a t-shirt and warm leggings - and I was dressed way too warmly. I should've worn shorts or capris. At mile 10, you told me I had two minutes to spare, so I needed to turn it up if I wanted a little more cushion, but I'd be fine if I kept my pace. It was a subtle way to tell me that now was not the time to slow down. If you hadn't been there, I would've walked for a minute because I was tired, at that point. But because you were there, I sped up, and told myself I was sticking to your shoulder. I clocked my fastest mile at the end - 7:56 - the only timed sub-8 minute mile I have ever run - and you knew I was going super fast for me, and again, you just kept up and stayed calm. Knowing you were there meant a lot. And finally, when I misestimated how far away the finish line was, and realized it was a lot closer to 0.3 miles than 0.1 miles away, you just laughed as I grumbled something that rhymes with "go duck".
Loved my negative splits.
Loved my run.
Loved it when a woman who runs by / with me at the track on Thursday mornings drove by my house on Sunday to issue congratulations.
Considering a half marathon trail race this fall and a marathon next year.
On pace to hit 1,000 miles by December 31.
I love you, 40.