You know how you can try really hard at something for a long time and be sorta okay at it, but then you introduce someone else to it and they’re a friggin’ natural, and then you’re torn between being happy for them and being frustrated that it’s so hard for you? Yeah, well that was this morning ALL OVER. The Snook went out this morning for a run with the Nike kit while I did my workout DVD. I sorta knew he was faster than me, but since we almost always run together I never knew just how much faster. Folks, he finished his 5K in, like, 27 minutes AND posted an eight-minute mile! I HAVEN’T RUN AN EIGHT-MINUTE MILE SINCE HIGH SCHOOL. So on one hand, yay, go Snookums, you speedy Gonzales, you! On the other hand, I’m starting to feel less like a training partner and more like an ANCHOR. (No, I didn’t upload his run; if I did I’d never hit another Personal Best!)
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I run with my partner. I say ‘with’, but it’s really more like ‘at the same time’. He’s coming off 20 years of training, I’m up to 20 months. We tend to run to a park, and run around it. He gives me a head start, we end up finishing at about the same time and place.
We say “See you at the finish line” at races. He finishes well ahead of me, and cheers me on when I finish.
Would I like to run at his speed? Hell yes, but he’s 6 inches taller than me. He’s got far longer legs, I’m going to have to work hell hard to get there. (I will, though.)
I’ve come to the realization that I’m just not a runner. Put me on an elliptical machine or bike and I could go forever. It’s very frustrating because I WANT to be a runner.