For a long time, whenever I talked to other runners, I felt this urge to insert my pace into the conversation so they would know how “slow” I run before deciding whether or not to continue to converse with me as an equal. It was an odd symptom of insecurity, a legacy from my early months of running, when I felt fraudulent and embarrassed to even be caught in my running gear.
I’m trying to stop doing this. Besides, there’s nothing worse than having someone sheepishly admit to being a “super slow” runner and then finding out they run a minute faster per mile than you do, and are only embarrassed when they talk to your husband. No one needs that. What is fast for you has to do with your age, experience, time running, and tolerance for dry heaving. It’s a pretty personal thing, and doesn’t matter at a cocktail party unless you’re on the lookout for a running buddy.
I’ve been thinking about pace often, lately. I’ve been coughing for over a month, now, and can’t sleep through the night without getting up for cough syrup, let alone exercise. I feel like my running self is slipping away. I wonder, when I start running again, how long it will take me until I can run my former 5k pace. How long will it take me to run 10 miles again? Why do I care so much?
I firmly believe that you can love running and be a runner at any pace. I also know from personal experience the joys of working hard to improve your pace and seeing that work pay off. Pace can be a wonderful motivator. Your pace is related to how dedicated, hard-working, and experienced you are as a runner (though there are plenty of other factors). It IS something to be proud of.
But running as hard as you can for a set distance is a pretty similar experience. I remember my first 5k in under 30 minutes, and it was harder than my first 5k in under 28. I ran faster in my sub-28 minute race, but did not push as close to the edge of my pain threshold.
With training and experience, the same amount of pain gets you further, faster. But we’re still all lining up at the start line intending (usually) to push ourselves as hard as we can, just with different results.
That means that when I’m able to start running again, I can still do exactly what I did before. I can go out and push myself 4 hours a week running, and an hour a week in spin class. I just won’t get as far in half an hour as I used to.
But if I truly love running, that shouldn’t matter as much as just getting out there and feeling my heart pound and my sweat roll. If I have to walk, I can walk. I’ll be outside. I’ll be working as hard as I can. It will feel good.
Besides… I have five months until Chilly. I can rest until my cough is gone, ramp up for a bit, and then rise like a phoenix out of the ashes and try to stick with Tony for 11 miles instead of 10 this year. Not that pace matters. Nope.
The only fast running I do is when I’m trying to get to an intersection to hit the “walk” button before the light turns green so I don’t have to wait through an entire traffic rotation.
Get better soon!
That’s awesome. The fartlek strategy of champions! I think the fastest running I do is after my kids 🙂
I have always felt pretty”fast”in the grand scheme of things – not 4 minute miles, but under 9, and I was proud of that! I started a new training program for a full marathon this fall, and my coaches have prescribed endless “slow, easy”miles in addition to workouts at a faster pace. It was so hard to adjust to those slow miles! I was actually embarrassed at running that slow. But after a few weeks and reading many articles about slow miles and aerobic thresholds, I’ve come to realize that it’s not all that bad. Every body is different, and slow to some is fast to another! Hope you’re feeling better soon so you can hit the road again – at any pace!
It’s hard to slow down! Counter-intuitive, but true. I’ve found that I tend to always run the same pace, and when I worked hard at picking up my pace for tempo runs, I started having trouble pacing myself for long runs. It’s easy to get into a zone.