I ran the Bull Canyon 10K yesterday. Honestly, I thought I was just going to treat it like a regular old any day of the week training run, but you know how that goes-you get out there on the starting line with about 800 of your closest friends, and BAM! The competitive spirit kicks in, the adrenaline starts to flow, and you're racing even if you don't want to.
As I headed up the canyon, I watched the returning runners-the speedy guys. I was hoping maybe, just maybe to finish in the medals in my age group so I was scoping out the returning women and trying to determine if they were in my age group. I finally saw the third one going the other way and I knew I was out of the medals. OK, I told myself. Go for goal number 2. Try to make this your sub one hour 10k. So I knew my pace was fast (well, fast for me) and I thought it might be do-able. This was before I hit the dreaded 1/2 mile hill just before the turn around. I hit the hill and slogged up really, really slowly. I made it to the top and focused on taking advantage of that long downhill slide. I was cutting tangents like crazy through the entire race-this course is made for cuttng corners as it's very curvy.
I hit the last stretch, really hopeful that I had finally cracked the 1hour mark. I glanced at garmie and I knew I wouldn't make it unless I could run like a Kenyan for the last 1/4 mile or so. When I saw the finish line and the clock read 1:01:29 I knew I had just missed the mark. The Kenyan in me just didn't kick in soon enough.
It was still a good race. I had fun, I visited with runner friends that I only see at races, and I decided to sign up for a half in July. I wasn't going to do it, but I realized I'm scheduled to run 12 miles that day anyway, and my runner friends convinced me I should do it. If I'm going to be out there running anyway, I might as well do it somewhere different and get a really good breakfast afterwards.