“What? I think it needs to be re-calibrated”
“The time don’t lie.”
This past night, I had the opportunity to run with Second City Randomness. We’ve been trying to get a run in for a while now, but it never panned out. Then last night, it came down the final straw. Amy’s faster than me but I can run longer distances. We both wanted a challenge and in theory, we would be pushing each other to become the better runner. In theory that is.
I can’t remembered the last time I didn’t run along the lakefront, but the trail Amy chose was quite quaint. It was my second time running since the injury, so I was nervous. Nervous not so much that I couldn’t run well, more so of the fact that a girl would beat me. Being nice, Amy told me to set the pace as we started off. I could see it now, we would start off at my measly slow pace and she’s going to kick it up as I struggle to keep up.
The evening was gorgeous, temperatures hovering around 70 degrees with the sun setting on the far side of the forest preserve, as we set off on our run. No more than a mile into the run, my lungs were burning. I looked over to Amy and she was all fine and barely breaking a sweat, while I was dying as my lungs were killing me. It was the heat. Not the weather, because it was perfect; more so my lunch. As I put the 4th spoonful of chili sauce on top of my pad thai, I knew that I was going to regret it later. 7 hours later, I was surely regretting it. Hot damn! But I manned up and ran on, keeping pace with Amy lest I get out run by a girl before the end of the first mile.
One loop down, some water and off we go again, I was ready and happy. My legs were loose, the weather was nice and oh yeah, my lunch. The burning never stopped, but it did get better. What made the second lap interesting was bottled up gas. Sadly, burping didn’t help and running doesn’t allow you to deploy silent but deadly missiles. Nope. Not at all. I tried to keep it in, but it was causing my run to suffer. Seriously? Finally, I had no choice. I let one loose, but it was louder than I expected. Oh eff it! I shrugged it off. Unfortunately, another one was brewing quickly to which I told Amy, “Please excuse me for a second. Ah, much better.” If there’s one thing my teammates taught me, there’s not shame in farting while running. My biggest regret was not having another runner to pass by (pun intended). What? You don’t do that when you run as you pass others?
When the run was over, my body was itching for more miles. My lungs wanted nothing more lest I burp up some chili sauce. I couldn’t complain, it was a strong run. That is until Amy told me the time.
8 minutes and 7 second pace for 5.5 miles.
Holy mother of pearl!
I have never ran that fast before. Lie. I cracked the treadmill up to a 7:30 pace when I was teaching at Quigley. I lasted for half a mile, but then again, the treadmill lies. Holy crap. The last time I clocked myself was during the Go! St. Louis half marathon where I was averaging around a 9:50 pace.
I knew I was no longer a 9 minute pace. I was slightly faster, but not by much. 8:45 if I was lucky. At least that’s what I thought until Amy told me what we did today. If I can keep this up for 13.1 miles, I won’t have a slight issue of running a PR. Heck, I even might stand a chance against the bet that Oswald & I made. Either way, today was an eye opener. Sure explain why I’ve been passing so many runners along the lakefront lately.
Oh, and as for Amy, she’s fine. She doesn’t hate me yet for the extra miles. Heck, we even scheduled an 8 miler in a couple weeks. She’ll hate me then. But I’ll probably hate her first because she’ll be picking up the pace. Eff….