Oh wait...I'm a runner!

The Baltimore 10-Miler

"I don't feel like a runner today", I said to a friend after crossing the finish line yesterday. I thought I did everything right. I averaged 30 miles a week, did speed and hill workouts, cut out alcohol the week before, carbo-loaded for three days, and made a point to hydrate well. Still, I couldn't pull off the goal I had put on myself.

Every race I have recently completed I have gone beyond my own expectations. I thought I had finally established realistic goal-setting. All my times reflected my ability to reach my moderate time goal of coming under 1:20:00 for this 10-mile race. I even set an aggressive goal of 1:18:00 and a conservative goal of 1:22:30. Did I reach any of these goals? No.

After passing mile 9 in the race, I checked my watch 1:14:00. I knew at that point the chance of reaching my goal was blown. The last mile was almost all uphill, so I mentally threw in the towel and shuffled/walked my way in to the finish line. I was so mad at myself. What was my training missing? More long runs w/ hills?

The temperature was somewhere in the 80's w/ relatively little humidity, though the sun beat down on the roads making it feel even hotter. I invested so much of my effort into making this event a success, can I simply blame it on the weather? I finished with 1:24 something, I don't really care...

"I'm taking an entire week off from running." I said to my doubtful friend. Before this race I was actually looking forward to it because I felt like I earned it.

The next day, Father's Day.

We had a family bike ride planned at the trail, so we packed up the bikes and headed up. I own a trail bike, but I prefer the road; something about a need for speed. My trail bike is in terrible condition due to neglect and a moldy garage; on the other hand, my road bike is like my third child. I brought my trail bike over to my dad's the day before so he could give it a once over and approve it for ride ahead (he's THE bike guy).

Once out on the trail, all was going well until two miles in when my back wheel started wobbling. With my dad and his bike fix-it abilities well ahead I thought I would use my brute strength to pull my dragging bike to catch him and get him to assess the situation. But as I rode on the wheel got worse and then BANG! Like a gunshot, my tube blew.

My sister-in-law agreed to peddle ahead and catch my father and send him back to assist. Luckily my brilliant bike-loving father arrived with a spare tube and pump-- something I take for granted. All I had to do was sit back and let him make my rusty trail bike good as new, sort of. He pumped what air he could in and we agreed the he would continue heading up with the girls and I would head back to the car. He assured me that my tire should get me back the mere 2.5 miles.

Alone, I peddled lightly back south as my wheel continued to wobble. As I rode on, things quickly deteriorated and I was left with a completely flat tire again. Great, now what? Alone on the trail with a broken bike and two miles from where I need to be.

'Wait a minute...', I thought to myself, 'I'm a runner!'. Thinking back to my triathlon days of running the bike out of the transition area and grateful I had my running shoes on, I hopped off my bike and ran it along w/ me. When I came to the first crossroad on the trail, I chucked my bike and helmet, and set out on foot.

On my trial bike, I feel bulky and slow. To be fair, I was riding with kids, so speed wasn't the main focus. But on my feet running, it felt efficient and natural. I needed a blown tire to remind me that I AM A RUNNER!

Now...I guess I should get back out there and prove it.