As my weekly Tuesday night 5k training went on, I picked up pace. I was proud of myself. I did however know that the very kind gentleman, Ken, training me runs a 4:30 marathon pace. So I always had guilt and would internally apologize to him the entire run. I never externally apologized because he's the type of guy who could be surrounded by disaster and still find something great in it.
My last week of training was upon me, Will had to work so I was on my own. It was just going to be Ken and I. It was a pretty decent Chicagoland night and that brought more runners to our local club. So we broke off into groups. In my mind we were breaking off into "Everyone else" and then "Ken who is stuck with Lori". In reality we broke off into two groups "Long run" and "Longer run". Wait, I was with "Long run"?
Joining Ken and I was a gentleman named Frank. We stepped outside and discussed our route. Frank introduced himself. I said "Hi, I'm sorry I'll slow you down". Frank stopped me. He said "It doesn't matter, we just want to run" and Ken agreed. Remember, I told you Ken could be surrounded by disaster and still find something great in it.
And we were off.
I started lagging behind, they noticed and slowed to my pace. It was the three of us out on winding roads leading to a sidewalk. It was our normal route, the aptly named 'Costco Run'. After passing Costco we turned to head on our straightway that we typically turn around after running to the town next door. In reality, on this run we actually go through three different towns, but it's not as lengthy as it sounds, but rather sprawling and nonsensical town boarders.
We turned early. I panicked. I figured we were turning early because I was slowing us down. I had been doing so well, progressively for the few weeks prior I was running consistent 5k's weekly. We turned early. I shouldn't have panicked.
Ken led us into a neighborhood that was all things Holiday Decor. It was fun. In Chicagoland during the Holiday Season often times you bundle up, get in the warm car, get too hot too soon, and drive around looking at decorations. I had never thought of running to look at decorations. Or, better yet, running through decorations. This particular neighborhood has gotten together and created several dozen archways covering their sidewalks for passer-byers to go under. We ran through them. Then back, then back again.
After running through every archway we could, we were back on track to the 'Costco Run' route. And before I knew it, Ken was saying "To the dumpster, let's go." That's where we stop at, we run to a dumpster behind the gym. It's not at all sketchy, despite my admitting I run to a dumpster, behind my gym, in the dark. Both Ken and Frank high-fived me. I felt great. I felt overwhelmed. I felt my throat swelling up and my eyes watering. Ken said "You just ran 4 miles and averaged a 10:00 mile."
Now, after our brief celebration the 'Longer run" group passed us and they had just completed 6 miles in the same amount of time I completed 4 miles. The first thing that came to my mind? "Well, they only did two miles more than I did, at this rate I could do 6 miles in an hour."
I said thanks to Ken and Frank, but before parting ways Frank reminded me "It's not about the speed, it's about running." I haven't seen Frank since, but his words continue to linger in my mind.
My last week of training was upon me, Will had to work so I was on my own. It was just going to be Ken and I. It was a pretty decent Chicagoland night and that brought more runners to our local club. So we broke off into groups. In my mind we were breaking off into "Everyone else" and then "Ken who is stuck with Lori". In reality we broke off into two groups "Long run" and "Longer run". Wait, I was with "Long run"?
Joining Ken and I was a gentleman named Frank. We stepped outside and discussed our route. Frank introduced himself. I said "Hi, I'm sorry I'll slow you down". Frank stopped me. He said "It doesn't matter, we just want to run" and Ken agreed. Remember, I told you Ken could be surrounded by disaster and still find something great in it.
And we were off.
I started lagging behind, they noticed and slowed to my pace. It was the three of us out on winding roads leading to a sidewalk. It was our normal route, the aptly named 'Costco Run'. After passing Costco we turned to head on our straightway that we typically turn around after running to the town next door. In reality, on this run we actually go through three different towns, but it's not as lengthy as it sounds, but rather sprawling and nonsensical town boarders.
We turned early. I panicked. I figured we were turning early because I was slowing us down. I had been doing so well, progressively for the few weeks prior I was running consistent 5k's weekly. We turned early. I shouldn't have panicked.
Ken led us into a neighborhood that was all things Holiday Decor. It was fun. In Chicagoland during the Holiday Season often times you bundle up, get in the warm car, get too hot too soon, and drive around looking at decorations. I had never thought of running to look at decorations. Or, better yet, running through decorations. This particular neighborhood has gotten together and created several dozen archways covering their sidewalks for passer-byers to go under. We ran through them. Then back, then back again.
After running through every archway we could, we were back on track to the 'Costco Run' route. And before I knew it, Ken was saying "To the dumpster, let's go." That's where we stop at, we run to a dumpster behind the gym. It's not at all sketchy, despite my admitting I run to a dumpster, behind my gym, in the dark. Both Ken and Frank high-fived me. I felt great. I felt overwhelmed. I felt my throat swelling up and my eyes watering. Ken said "You just ran 4 miles and averaged a 10:00 mile."
Now, after our brief celebration the 'Longer run" group passed us and they had just completed 6 miles in the same amount of time I completed 4 miles. The first thing that came to my mind? "Well, they only did two miles more than I did, at this rate I could do 6 miles in an hour."
I said thanks to Ken and Frank, but before parting ways Frank reminded me "It's not about the speed, it's about running." I haven't seen Frank since, but his words continue to linger in my mind.
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