Like most people, I'm a creature of habit. I have a few standard routes and I run them religously. The shortest of these routes is a 9km loop that includes the infamous climb from the Khahtsahlano Race up Westport Road, a 3.5km stretch with nearly 800 feet of elevation gain. Without exaggeration, I've run this loop at least 150 times, if not more. 42 minutes is an average day. 40 if I'm feeling frisky.
The last couple of weeks have been pretty stressful at home (buying a house, selling a house), and last week I neared the breaking point. Frustrated and irritated to the max, I threw on my shoes and stormed out of the house, bent on purging the pent up negativity.
Within minutes, I was beginning to feel great, the combination of running and fresh air working together to defeat the demons in my head.
I fully expected the pace to take its toll and for me to stagger home, broken but happy to have worked out most of the aggression. However, that day was one of those days runners dream about, the "perfect day." I felt invincible. Light, quick, and strong. I was devouring the climb and when I crested Westport Road, I was on top of the World. Anything seemed possible; all I had to do was reach for it.
When I got home, I was pumped. 37 minutes, and that included a run into the bushes to answer the call of nature. After a quick stretch, I jumped into the car and drove off to measure the route.
By the time I reached the bottom of Westport Road, I knew that my 9km route with its 1000 feet of ascent was going to be short. Crap. I started to slow down, sub-consciously hoping that somehow a slower drive would add distance.
By the time I could see my driveway, I was deflated. 8km on the nose.
The realization that I'm not as fast as I thought I was, was deflating. Disappointed in myself, I made the decision to buckle down, toughen up, and train harder. No beer. No fries or chips. Everything natural and healthy. Lose 10lbs.
That commitment lasted just a few hours as I later sought solace in my holy trinity - burger, fries and beer - at Taylor's Crossing Pub.
Like Oscar Wilde once said, I can resist everything but temptation.
Eric
PS I think I better go measure the track where I set all my Personal Bests. Probably 50 meters short...
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