The treadmill and I are not friends. I don’t really like running on the treadmill for more than about 25 minutes, but when it’s –20C outside I have little choice. It has been bitterly cold here and since we live near the lake it has been pretty windy too. So yesterday I went to the gym to run.
My plan was to do at least 10K. At least that is what I kept telling myself. But how can I run just 10K when I am trying to build up to running a 1/2 marathon and the last time I was on the treadmill I ran 12K?
I set a pace of 7.7mph as ran. I really quite enjoyed my run for the first 6K or so. I was breathing well, my body felt good, it was everything running is supposed to be. When I got to about 8K it started to become much less enjoyable. I was getting really hot, and my right ankle started to twinge a bit as I ran. I made it to 10K and told myself ‘Just 5 more laps’, that would get me to 12K. I should have stopped. My ankle was hurting with each step and I was fading pretty quick, running after work is not really my idea of a good time, but things must be done!
I got closer to 12K and just decided that I was going to run 14K, and screw what my body was trying to tell me. I’m in charge and I can do whatever I set out to do. The last five laps were painful, not only for my ankle, but mentally. I was counting half laps, I was trying not to look at the information and just watch the gym. I was alternately looking with despair at what I had left to go and gritting my teeth and pushing forward.
The final lap (400m/ .25 miles) I upped the pace to 8.0 mph and lengthened my stride running just that bit faster at the end of a 1:07:48 run!
The treadmill is a slave, and I am it’s Master!