Yatta!

I don't want to make a big deal out of this, because it was on a treadmill, so it doesn't count/is easier.

But I ran a 5k in 19:54 last night.

!!!!



Yeah.  What?

I know running on a treadmill is easier.  I know it's not a PR until it happens in a race.

But this means I CAN do it.  Based on how I felt afterward, I am capable of laying down this speed on the pavement.  For AT LEAST 3.1 miles.  Maybe more.  Maybe...double that?

Getting too big for my britches there.  Sometimes my eyes are bigger than my legs.  Hmmmm, not the best phrasing.

Anyway.

I was supposed to do my normal eight 400m sprints with my trainer yesterday, but we had a scheduling conflict.  I could have done them on my own, but I didn't want to.  I suggested to him that I do speed work on my treadmill instead.  "What if I run at my goal pace and see how long I could hold it?"

Now, I haven't been doing any pace or tempo runs because I suck and am lazy.  So, I was aiming for a mile.  I'd done it once before, but only that far.  So anything beyond a mile would be gravy.

I warmed up by running the dog for a mile.  He's the worst running partner later.  Either he's getting slower or I'm getting faster.  Likely both.  But his ass was dragging.

I got back to the house and unfolded the treadmill.  I plugged in my speed and off I went.

I had Tom Petty crooning in my ear the whole time.  I tried not to stare at the display.

Here's the thing.  I had this fantasy.  In my fantasy I somehow magically pulled out a sub-20 5k on the treadmill.  I've already spoiled this story, but in my head it was like all my other fantasies, where I'm instantly good at something without putting in the work.  And reality always leaves me disappointed.

So I had relegated this to fantasy land, too.

A mile came and went.  My left hip felt tight, but it wasn't getting any worse, and I wasn't limping.  Those are my two rules for quitting something due to pain.  Getting worse or limping.  I was stubborn instead.  Just one more "lap."  Make it to a nice round 2 miles. 

And then I was at 2 miles.  And my hip pain went away.  My breathing was labored, but not uncontrollable.  My legs felt pretty okay.  Fuck.  If I wasn't dead yet, maybe I could do this for another 7 minutes.

So I kept going.

It wasn't a cake walk.  I wasn't singing along.  I wasn't lollygagging.

But...it wasn't the hardest I've felt like I was pushing myself, either. 

I finished with seconds to spare.

I could have gone longer.  Or faster.  I still had some juice left in me.  Not much.  Not another 20 minutes, I don't think.  But juice.

I had done it.  This was a stupid, weird, "unattainable" goal I had set for myself long before I started running seriously, back when I thought 10 minute miles were the fastest my legs would ever take me.  I used to joke to people "once I hit a sub-20 5k I'll stop running races normally and do them all in costume."  It was sort of a joke to me, like the "Doctor" in front of my name when I email people (note:  I am not a real doctor.  But I am a real Rose.  I am an actual Rose.).

Anyway.

I stumble into the house (my treadmill is in the garage), startling my mom.  "Are you okay??" she worries.  "WHOOOHOOOOO!" I am a little out of breath, but I still manage to stand up tall and throw my arms in the air.  "I just did a sub-20 5k!" I yell, a little too loud.  "That's really good!" I throw in as an afterthought before grabbing my camera to take a picture of the treadmill.

Once I get the picture I stumble back inside.  "Holy crap!  Will you take a picture of me?"  I drag my mom in to the back yard.  I want to remember this moment.  All the other stupid sweaty pictures of me are worthless if I do not capture this.  The sun is in my eyes.  My mom doesn't know how to work my camera.  I do not care.



Yatta!  I did it.  Sure, it's on a treadmill.  I don't care.  I don't even know if hitting this goal in a real race will taste as sweet.

I didn't think I had it in me.  I know, I know, people run faster than this all the time.  It's not a big deal.  But it is.  To me.  Partially because it's a goal I've been chasing, both half-assedly, then fully-assedly, for a few years.  Partially because it represents how capable I am, and how capable I can be, as long as I keep putting in the world.  Speed work, man.  I'm still working on getting in the miles overall, so that should help get me faster and longer (HAR HAR HAR perverts). 

My legs.  Dude.  I thought they were just sexy.  Apparently they're pretty awesome as well.

So, yeah.  Cool, right?

Now I just need to sign up for a real race so this can officially go in the books.