I’ve run quite a few 10K’s in my brief, but ever enthusiastic running “career”; most of which have been good runs – not easy, per se, but not super challenging either. In the past I was running more regularly and had always managed to train, to some extent, before a race. And although a 10K (which I feel is the “easy” run of any race), I always prepared myself for the run by getting ample rest and eating enough carbs the night before.
This year was different. I didn’t get cocky, but I severely underestimated the distance and the actual route I was running (which starts out straight and gets hilly at the 4KM mark). I also haven’t been running as regularly as I should have been, with only a couple runs under my belt the month before, none of which surpassed 8K (only one 8K for that matter). I was, as I always am, under-prepared and over-ambitious.
But it’s OK. I ran the race. And made decent time. Not the time I wanted, but decent (two minutes slower than last years race – 1:06).
The hills kick my ass. The beginning of the race was great. I flew through the first 3-4K, which is probably why I pooped out at the halfway point after the first hill. Once I hit those hills it was a bloody killer.
At 6KM, I was convinced I wouldn’t make my goal time of 1 hour or less, so I walked. I walked the uphills and ran the downhills till I finally decided to stop being an asshole and to run the rest of the race. Once I crossed the finish and saw that I was 6 minutes over I wanted to kick myself in the butt. If I had only kept running, without the walk breaks! ARGH!
Anyway, I congratulated myself nonetheless, because it’s still an accomplishment. The rest of the day was spent by the pool at one of the hotels at the Dead Sea. Friends, food, drinks and fun in the sun. What more could you ask for?