Yesterday I ran the Reading Half Marathon for the second year in a row.  My time was not great.  I came in at 2:03:47.  Last year I came in at 1 hour 54 mins. 

My problem was that I started at a really good pace—too good.  I couldn’t keep it up.  I was fine up until the seventh mile when I the little voice that was urging me to walk for the previous two miles finally won over.  I stopped and walked for a few minutes.  Every time I started up after that it was difficult.  It’s funny how much psychology is involved in running these distances.  If I had better music on my mp3—something that let me think about other things than running—I may have done a lot better.

Last year, I trained a lot more.  I’ve been running regularly, but usually doing only 3 or 4 miles three times a week.

It’s funny being the walker.  The guy who just gives in.  Some people patted me on the back and they ran past.  The people cheering at the side of the road were saying “come on, you can do it.”  I even started to fake a limp just so they would think I was running through an injury.  When I started running again, my legs felt awful and stiff.  My feet pounded the pavement even harder than they had just a few minutes earlier—like the cushion had disappeared from my running shoes. I had the same problem when I ran the Honolulu marathon back when I was 22.  Never stop running!

Still, I’m happy with my time.  I didn’t walk that much.  2:03 is not bad.