51

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It wasn’t to be.

By experience you are informed and, well as time expressed, it meant, it just wasn’t to be so at Ealing Eagles 10k

I hobbled off course, yards past the halfway point, one utters “again”.

Not, “again”, as in the hobbling off, but the switch that triggered the tear, which tore at the trigger.
Once again, the subject, subjected to hamstrung fallibility and ‘princess hamstrings’.

As eyes orbited, a sideways glance caught the appearing 5k signal; a prompt appears to have been prompted. A signal ushered forth, a sequence, so blatantly familiar, echoed in by the proximity to last weeks ‘half way’, a repetition, squawked.

Its a huge disappointment; there is no pleasure in trudging off. There is a mental spike of self loathing, a worthless non-appreciation as one steps to the side, the field in full flow, gliding past with enduring ebb.

My race number for the day was not lost on irony either, 51, should one’s psyche have required a reminder, age, number.

In essence, unlike last week, I decided it wasn’t worth pursuing.

Shortly before the tear and the 5k sign, the 45 minute pacer had just drifted up on my wheel then eased by.

Not as comfortable as last week, I most probably had gone off too strongly.

I had, although attempting, pretending he hadn’t, I felt under control, a strongish stridey pace, breathing relaxed, the concession being one of doable if, the most likely truth was, of slowable retort.

Unlike last week however on recognition of the tear, my first reaction was, 1. a caustic amusement at the unsurprised tearing announcement followed by 2. keep going, followed very acutely by 3. stop and stop now.

The running is simply, ‘with bated breath’, too important.

To maintain; to keep running, running over racing, over running, over running times. Without running there is of course, no racing and no times.

And, I had been prepared. What I realised from last week is, the very fortunate gamble to keep going had paid off, just. Lucky once, I was not going to chance with this particular lady pot luck, again.

Weeks off running is, non negotiable. The mental subjugation of well beings, a compromise of steps just too far. I wasn’t prepared to make this, the tarnished reward for finishing.

Stopping is therefore, the lesser of two mentally compromised evils. I’ll deal with the trudging off and fix my approach hence forth, “realism”, to be laid off for weeks would be a constant harassment and is bestowed at too high a price, just right now.

After all, it is the experience of one or t’other which guides, is it not? These experiences may simply be, fleeting pops over miles acquired however, I can’t afford to allow the pops to out do the miles.

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~ by lloydsloops on May 11, 2015.

One Response to “51”

  1. Love it

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