1) Whose pace am I keeping?
So, a few years back I jumped on the “running” bandwagon with some dissuasion from the Mr. (who enjoys some good windsucking.) Yeah, I got the gear – short shorts and all. I “trained”…sorta. I ran a few 5k’s…sorta. One in particular race I found myself up close to the starting line packed in with what appeared to be some serious runners. (I knew of their seriousness because they all had very flashy running shoes.) Not sure why I thought it a good idea to start in the front of this pack, but my inexperience assured me it was okay. So, off went the gun…and the pack of serious runners. And there I was…I mean, my legs were lighting. it. up! – for about 2 minutes, until I came to the painful realization that perhaps my training was not adequate to maintain this gazelle like pace. Once my lungs confirmed that fact, I went from a champion like speed to that of a two toed sloth…with a broken leg. The rest of the race was a blur of runners, passing me from every side. There was even a woman pushing a baby stroller. No lie. I did eventually cross the finish line to the pitied applause of the few remaining bystanders…and my Mr. With a generous smile he asked “Whose pace were you trying to keep?” Yeah, (sarcasm intended)…good question.