The Funk has been following me. The Funk, isn't a robot controlled Twitter follower that means nothing if it's following you. The Funk, is something real and the damn thing has been following me since turning that F-word. The Funk feels like a disease, an incurable one at that. The symptoms? Horrible runs. Since catching the Funk, two absolutely awful races, countless bad training runs, feel heavy, lazy, nothing seems to go right. You know, generally feeling like the S-word, oh yeah, shit!
This weekend brings us to my hometown. It's not the annual 5K, this time, but for a new half marathon. While not a doctor, I'm not sure if the Funk is contagious, but the morning of, CT is suffering from the symptoms now. Jeez, she may be even have it worse! It was hard even getting her into the car to get to the race, it was like dealing with a two year old!
Attempting to find the cure, went back to my bread and butter pre-race routine. Just need a few minutes to find my zone with some tunes by myself. Can't spill any real secrets what really goes on, but for the moment, felt the Funk drain away. Looking up, locked eyes with CT, the Funk, dies today! Certainly not about to brag and confidently predict it's gone, especially after only self diagnosing healing thirty seconds ago, but in is moment I felt healed.
This race is small, but of course it's the first one. The hope was to have the whole Superstar clan come rolling into town to participate. As it worked out, only one star could make it with us. On the drive up, the joke was what if we could win, yeah right! While we didn't have the clan running, we did have our own cheering section, with signs of course.
Fuuuuuuuunk, goes the starting gun. The young kid I had eyed up prior to the start, think he was gone before the first turn. Per my family's request, kept it under control going into the first turn, so they could get "action" pictures. This will be my excuse for not winning, slowing down for pictures? Who does that? Still to be determined if the Funk is cured. Somewhat surprised that nobody else bolted by, coming out of the first turn was in fourth place. The game plan for this race is not repeating what caught the Funk, going out too fast, not catching the F-word! Oh please, I'm so far removed from the F-word at twenty-three anyway. This time, easy six miles to start, then attempt to get faster for the last half is the plan.
Mile one felt very relaxed. Didn't want to look, but glanced at my watch, 7:13. Ugh, that's faster than I wanted. Am I already screwing up the plan? Then again, currently sitting in fourth place, in a half marathon, and can't feel anybody breathing down my neck. Fourth place in a half would be kind of cool. Maybe just stalk these two, since the pace feels easy, hell maybe they'll die out with some Funk of their own. Mile two, they slowed some, guessing the adrenaline wore off, closer to the pace I was hoping for at 7:30.
Miles three and four stayed at about that same pace. The mind has plenty of time to wander, thinking about all kinds of things, finishing fourth, worry about crashing like when I first caught the Funk, age group awards, strategy, how CT is doing, and of course, if it's possible to finish second in a half marathon. It's never applied, but I've read and know some basic race strategy and I felt like trying some, this may be the only time it will every apply.
The whole time I'd been eyeing the two guys ahead of me, sizing them up, deciding which one looked stronger. When I heard the stronger of the two cough a couple of times, decided it was time to see what would happen if I passed and pushed the pace. Would they keep up or fall back? Secretly, I hoped they'd attempt to keep up, burn themselves out, and all but give me second. One problem with this race, it's a straight line and feels like you can see forever, really no escape. But the next two miles, dropped the pace down to 7:00 minute miles and have no idea if they attempted to keep up, if my plan worked, or they simply let me go. Told myself not to look back, because that would be sign of weakness. Instead listened crossing roads if spectators or volunteers cheered for anybody after me, didn't hear any, so assumed they had to be behind me at a safe distance.
At about the halfway point, I eased back, hoping to conserve just in case something was needed at the end. It was crazy to think it's actually possible to get second place in a half marathon. Mile eight, I could feel it getting warmer, tried not to let that freak me out knowing that my foot was off the gas some. At ten, fatigue was setting in, but told myself at eleven my treat would be taking my shirt off. Even though it felt harder, my miles were very consistent still. It worked out perfect, right about at mile eleven the trail split and the curve it took made it easy to look back down the trail, without needing to turn around to look. Nobody! Honestly, not sure if it came down to it, if there would have been anything left to fight it out at the end had somebody been there. Maybe it was there, just held in very safe reserve. Either way, my attempt to break wills worked.
Crossing the line, Mom's first comment "you're done already?". Does that mean she wants me to do more? General surprise? Maybe it doesn't look like I ran a half marathon? Or did she think I was still infected with the Funk? Mental note, when having spectators, probably a good idea to give them a rough estimate of finish time. Really, not accustom to having a cheering section. As it turns out, she had just got there, good thing I took my foot off the gas and didn't PR!
Took a few minutes recovery, then my plan was to head back and find CT. No sooner did I start to head back to find her, this orange streak with the tell tail blonde pony tail bob comes into view crossing the bridge. Now it's my turn to say "you're done already?". Even though all signs pointed to it being her, I couldn't see for sure until she got off the bridge and the smile came into view, that's her, for sure! Mile wide smile. First girl! This is the girl who was complaining, didn't want to do it, practically had to drag and beg her do do it, coming down the home stretch going to win the whole damn race! Few minutes later, here comes our Superstar friend to be the second overall female and also winning her age group.
The Funk is dead. For good, who knows? Glad to put it to rest though. Can't think a more successful race weekend to kill it off with family and friends. It will be the first and last time I ever pull second place in a half marathon, scraping the Funk off the bottom of my shoe, feels the best!
No comments:
Post a Comment