over and pukes her guts out!
"NICE job!" I think to myself - I don't actually pat her on the back and tell her this because, well, she's puking. But jeeze, why don't I ever puke my guts out at the end of a race? Why am I so weak, so wimpy, so bloody conservative? This young woman gave it all she had. I can't imagine how she must have felt in the seconds before the finish - and she still got by me. What's wrong with me? I gotta get some grit, some killer instinct.
I'm running a couple 10ks in the coming weeks - and I have to say that this distance is not my current favorite - It hurts me more than halfs and marathons - but my goal right now is to work on my speed, and I don't do that very well unless there's some pressure. So races are a good way for me to push it. But here's the problem: I'm still not really pushing it. Oh, I may think I am in the moment, but then I feel fresh as a daisy the day after a race and run a nice 'recovery' ten miler! Puking aside, if I can run 10 miles the next morning then I clearly didn't run the race very hard. When I was younger I raced with all I had in me - and the next day I could barely walk, never mind run. Can I still do that? I wonder.
So, here I say it, for all the world to see: I want to run these races 'til I puke. Well, maybe, or maybe not - but at least I want to be just a little sore and tired after the race. Clearly my belief that I'm push it is bogus. I want to see if I still have it in me to really try hard and risk blowing up, or perhaps really succeeding. I've been playing it too safe. Well, no more...