So, my husband and I are both participating in a race this upcoming Saturday. It is a Marion Art's Festival 5k. I only agreed to run the race because his sisters were interested and he asked me to tag along. Okay, I will do that.
I normally don't even register for a 5k because honestly, *looking down nose* 5k is nothing to me...and I know that sounds absolutely pompous and horrible. I am aware of that, and please forgive me. But I was very excited to hear that my SILs were interested and ready to try a smaller race, even if it meant walking a good portion or just trying their best.
Back to my husband. I remember running with him about 6 years ago, when he tried his hand at it. He wouldn't really venture beyond 4 miles, but those 4 miles? Fast. REALLY fast, okay, not KENYAN fast, but fast for me. See, running was not his "thing", it was mine, and I didn't mind slowing a bit and running for over an hour. He wanted it done as fast as possible. Did I mention he was fast?
Fast forward again to last week, asks if I want to run with him one morning, I of course say, "sure". We strap up, get going and I'm pacing him, if not in front of him a bit around 8:30/mile and I'm proud of myself. We finish the run walking up a hill (I had to resist the urge to yell at him that "RUNNERS don't walk up hillssssss!!!!!!1!!!") and I'm patting myself on the back for keeping up.
Again, same question pops up yesterday and we strap up again, out the door. Only this time? I'm left in the dust. I pant and heave and try to keep up, he requested an 8min/mile and he's now pushing 7:20, and I'm a skid mark behind him.
I blame the heavy legs day. Squatting, single leg, deadlifts, calf raises...that is my excuse. I WILL keep up with him on Saturday, I am determined. I think we'll probably run together for the first 2 miles and then we'll sprint it out. I am hoping beyond hope that we finish around 22 minutes. That would be FANTASTIC.
Until then...I'll be stretching and squishing my legs. *pokes quad*