Beat him like he stole something!

So, it's August 12th and I'm running a 5k in Wynnewood, Pennsylvania. It's part of a series of 3 held by my favorite local running store. I ran 25m 15s in the first one in June and lowered it to 25m 7s in the July race. An 8 second drop off. I start thinking, "I just need to lose 8 more seconds to break 25 minutes" heralding the Return of the 8 Minute Mile! A pretty noble goal indeed!

I spend the next month wearing ankle weights and training myself to finish strong...and I was actually getting pretty good at it. Most of my training runs are loops and I started seeing entire minutes dropping off the return trip. It's not just a physical thing either, the stuff I tell myself on the way back is just different than what I tell myself on the way out.

Now it's race day and I know what I'm there to do. I've got "BREAK 25" written on my arm in magic marker. It's a three lap race...the 2nd and 3rd laps are a mile and the 1st one starts a little further back to add an eighth. I get off to roughly the same start as I did the first two times. Lap one: 8m 03s. I'm telling myself that if I can finish the 2nd lap in under 17 minutes that I can turn it on in the last lap and reach my goal. I keep reminding myself to push it and I can see the clock in the distance. It says 16 minutes and change...then I get closer and **SHOCK** I realize that it says 15 minutes and change. Lap two: 16m 02s.

So now I'm way ahead of the pace I set for myself...either I triumph or I fail in the most epic way possible. Every time I feel myself slowing down, I force myself forward. Every time I reach an incline, I tell myself to kick it's ass. Every time I reach a decline, I take full advantage of it. I'm closing in on the finish line and I'm determined to finish strong...REAL strong...and the clock reads just over 23 minutes. I've actually gotten faster with each successive lap...

...and then here comes some guy trying to pass me in the final stretch. What the hell? Who is this unfamiliar cornball trying to steal my glory? Didn't he realize how hard I worked? Couldn't he understand what I was trying to accomplish? After giving a nasty look to the back of him, I fall into a dead sprint and breeze past him right before the finish line.

In hindsight, I feel bad about getting angry at the situation...dude was just trying to do the same thing I was trying to do...and I probably shaved off a couple seconds just trying to beat him. But in foresight, I finished in 23 minutes and 39 seconds and I can use this experience in my next race...September 11th.