After running my 10K on Saturday, I should have felt great - at least mentally and emotionally.
I should have felt like I accomplished something, instead feeling like I fell short. Should have felt proud instead of just feeling tired.
But I didn't. I was tired, yes, but I was also a bit disappointed to be honest. I felt that my 56-minute finish was too slow, that I had perhaps set my sights too high by trying to beat me 10K PR.
But now, two days later I have a different view, thanks to my encouraging readers.
So, I didn't meet my goal. I didn't set a new highwater mark. So what? The comments were right on, as usual. I didn't meet my time but I accomplished something. I ran another 10K, my second in the last six months. And when in my life had I ever even thought about running any race, at any distance?
Um, that would be never.
What I've learned most from these last 48 hours - aside from planning and signing up for races in plenty of time - is to keep yourself grounded. Yeah, I have accomplished a lot in the last three years, things I never thought possible. I came a long way and have worked incredibly hard to get to where I am.
So why should I ever feel that running a 10K is a disappontment, let alone finishing it under an hour?
Have I become complacent? Did I forget about all those pounds that used to physically and emotionally weigh me down?
Thing is, I try very hard to never forget where I came from, to always remember the sacrifices I made to drop my weight and to become a runner. Three years ago I couldn't walk 10 kilometers at once. One year ago I had never even ran six miles at once.
And now I'm worried because I "only" ran it in 56:00.1? Am I serious?
My reaction is a bit of a slap in the face. It's almost like saying that my effort was in vain, that what I accomplished Saturday was not noteworthy when in fact its the exact opposite. Every race, every run, every mile should be an achievement. It should be something I'm happy about.
A 10K in 56 minutes? Yeah I did that. Damn proud of it too.