Slow as a turtle

Adam and I completed our 3rd 10K this morning (Lenexa Freedom Run). We were so excited to see our friends Curtis and Erica near the start line. Curtis was there to run the 10K and Erica was there to cheer him on (as well as provide her observations/insight into the other runners and the MC: "All the way Ray"). Curtis completed the distance 13 minutes faster so they were they cheering us on as we ran through the finish line. Watching Curtis run is so impressive. He definitely gets into a zone and makes it look a lot easier than it is. I, on the other hand, look like I'm about to have a medical emergency. If you saw my face after a race, you would never want to run.

There are times I run slow (and I mean slow), but usually, on race day, I'm able to step up the pace a bit (meaning, I increase my time by 20-30 seconds for 10Ks and 60 seconds faster for 5Ks). Adam always tells me that time doesn't matter, it only matters that we cover the distance (that's the advice people give you when you run slow). Today, we ran a slow 10K (1:13:01). Granted, we ran the Hospital Hill 10K 38 seconds slower, but that was a challenging course, so I was just elated to complete it and was thrilled with my time.

Why did we run today's 10K so much slower? The course was relatively flat and should have been a fast and easy run. Could it have been because, during our two weeks in Greece, we didn't run? Was it because I was only going on 2 hours of sleep? Did it have anything to do with how very thirsty I was (the last water station was at mile marker 2.5 and I ran the additional 3.7 needing hydration - so much so I almost cried)? Was it because the last time I ran 6.2 miles was nearly a month ago? What I've come up with is that sometimes I'm going to run slow and that's okay. We covered the distance and that's all that matters (that's what you tell yourself when you run slow). All I can do is continue to train and get back out there and run more 10Ks.