I have just returned from my 8 km Diva on the Run Race, the first in a series of three races that I am doing this year in the hope of finishing the last race (10 km) in 48 minutes. Here are my race stats:
Temperature: 4 degrees Celsius
Weather: Sunny, clear blue sky and stunning views across the water
Race course: Flat and fast, gravel and chip trail along the waterfront of Jericho Beach, Spanish Banks and Locarno Beach
Details: Run for women only; field of 217 Divas
Crowd support: My mum and dad, and a bouncy, excited super-cheerleader Jack
(now for the crappy part)
Finishing time: 49:36 chip time; placing 106/217 overall and 11/29 in my age group
So how does this happen? Race conditions can only be decribed as ideal; I have no injuries or physical issues at the moment; perfect pre-race breakfast of toast and honey and a banana (and perfect post-race meal of cold pizza and Coke).
Yet.
49 freaking minutes for 8 km! Sigh. I was getting SO frustrated with every step, overthinking it as I checked my watch yet again and KNOWING that I was so far behind my desired finish time of 45 minutes. I killed the last kilometer, going awesome fast, because I was so damn mad at the previous 7. But the whole race was a gigantic mental battle with my mind saying destructive things like "You can just walk. No one will know." and "Take a break. Who cares?" and "Your legs are heavy." I really needed the angel on the other shoulder saying positive things, but the only one who showed up this morning was the freaking race devil.
My dad took a couple of pictures. I'm going to go wallow in my misery and try a little harder on my next run. And if any of you want to volunteer to be my shoulder angel for the next race, I'm all for it.
Temperature: 4 degrees Celsius
Weather: Sunny, clear blue sky and stunning views across the water
Race course: Flat and fast, gravel and chip trail along the waterfront of Jericho Beach, Spanish Banks and Locarno Beach
Details: Run for women only; field of 217 Divas
Crowd support: My mum and dad, and a bouncy, excited super-cheerleader Jack
(now for the crappy part)
Finishing time: 49:36 chip time; placing 106/217 overall and 11/29 in my age group
So how does this happen? Race conditions can only be decribed as ideal; I have no injuries or physical issues at the moment; perfect pre-race breakfast of toast and honey and a banana (and perfect post-race meal of cold pizza and Coke).
Yet.
49 freaking minutes for 8 km! Sigh. I was getting SO frustrated with every step, overthinking it as I checked my watch yet again and KNOWING that I was so far behind my desired finish time of 45 minutes. I killed the last kilometer, going awesome fast, because I was so damn mad at the previous 7. But the whole race was a gigantic mental battle with my mind saying destructive things like "You can just walk. No one will know." and "Take a break. Who cares?" and "Your legs are heavy." I really needed the angel on the other shoulder saying positive things, but the only one who showed up this morning was the freaking race devil.
My dad took a couple of pictures. I'm going to go wallow in my misery and try a little harder on my next run. And if any of you want to volunteer to be my shoulder angel for the next race, I'm all for it.
I'm on the far right
I am officially a Diva.
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