Yesterday was the Chicago Marathon, which I ran this time last year on 10.10.10. I love the big city races. There are many distractions and freaky people to take your mind off the grueling race itself. Last year's race was pretty warm as October races go. It was at least in the mid-70s, maybe hotter. I wilted like lettuce on mile 18, which I can assure you had nothing to do with my training and preparation.
Chicago was also my worst time by far. I have never cared about my finish time. My goal has always been to just finish... but that's when I finished around 4:00:00. One time I finished 3:45:00, but in Chicago, I ambled in after 5:00:00. I was humiliated, especially since my running partners finished 4:00:00 or sooner.
Actually, my finishes are pretty strong. No matter the race or distance, when I feel like I'm in a collapse-free position to sprint, I take off like the wind. My wife watched me finish Chicago and could have sworn my pace belonged to one of the top finishers until she saw the clock's disapproving 5:00:00, shaking its head like so many of my disappointed high school teachers.
Now I am four months away from the Houston Marathon, and my conditioning is slightly better than a bar fly's. I need to get my act together this year. I will NOT finish slower than 5 hours -- even though I still subscribe to the "just finish, don't place" philosophy.
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