The Need For Speed

by

flashSciver

I’m going to make a statement that shouldn’t come as a surprise:

I don’t run very fast.

Quick trip down memory lane. Every year in elementary school, we would go down to our dirt track to run a mile for the President’s Physical Fitness thingee. Do you remember that fat kid? The one that that smelled like McDonald’s fries and Tabasco sauce? Remember how he would run the mile in like 15 minutes and everybody would make fun of him? He would say, “Hey, in the end, the tortoise beats the hare.”

Remember how good it felt to punch that kid in the neck?

While I don’t feel sorry for that little fat kid, God rest his soul (Note: I’m not sure if he’s dead, but he was like 150 pounds in 2nd grade so I’m sure his fat little heart has given up by now).

I do however, know his pain.

As has been established in this blog, I run a whole heck of a lot. What should also be noted, however, is that I don’t run very fast. Checking out my stats (measurable data!), I averaged around 10:52 per mile in May and 10:30 in June. So far in July, I’m right at 10 minutes per mile and I run about 3.75 miles per outing.

Pretty good right? Remember the Marine Corps 10k that we have planned for later this year?

Last year’s winner ran it with a time of 33 minutes, 24 seconds. I’m not so good at math, but that’s about 5 1/2 minutes per mile. I’m not saying that I had any visions of winning a race, but good God, that hare’s bookin’.

I run about six days per week, with four days dedicated to a 3.75 mile run. On Mondays, I go for distance – currently at 6.2 to 6.5 miles. On Fridays, I run three miles on a track as fast as I can. My fastest time for three miles is around 27:50.

Today, I decided to step it up a bit. I shortened the distance to 2 miles and focused on pretty much running as fast as I could. I lasted just over 1.3 miles. It was pretty much the worse pain I have ever endured (I’ve lived a pretty sheltered life). The good news is that my pace was about 8:30 per mile. The bad news is that I think I lost control of my bowels there for a second.

I guess the moral of the story is that I’m not really ready to worry about speed just yet. I’m gonna go ahead and be that fat tortoise. It’s not all bad I suppose, I get all the iceberg lettuce I can eat and if anybody wants to punch me in the neck I can just hide in my shell.

fat-kid

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