Oh the dark cloud of doubt. Heavy and settling.
Here's the thing. I. Am. Not. A. Runner. I was born cuddly and slow. So slow my family called me The Snail. At school, I lied to get out of swimming sports. I painted fake bruises on my legs to get out of cross country. I did anything and everything to avoid the utter, all encompassing, feeling of failure and humiliation that came from being last. I was the chubby girl who sang in the choir and made my mates laugh. I. Am. Not. A. Runner.
So training to run 10kms "fast" goes against everything I and my body knows. I have to tell you this ... when Nicky and I are doing our sprints or running at "race pace" I can hear my 15 year old self shouting with shock ... "What are you doing??? You can't run! Remember! You don't run!" And Nicky is FAST. She was born to sprint. She goes so fast it's mind blowing. So I feel slow and heavy and ridiculous next to her. (She tells me later, that she marvels at the fact that I can just keep going. In her mind, she is screaming to stop and walk after the sprints ... and she tells me that if it wasn't for me just keeping on running that she would stop. Nicky, yet again, makes me feel awesome. Not slow and heavy and ridiculous. But awesome.)
So running tonight I hear it ... loud and clear. It's not just in my mind now, the words are spilling out "I can't do this. I'm not a runner. There is no way that I can run this 10k in 55 minutes."
She immediately says "I feel exactly the same way".
We decide to just get this run done and kind of agree to reassess.
We get the run done.
I look at my watch.
Are you ready?
We ran 7 ks. In 40 minutes.
That's 5 minutes and 42 seconds a km.
You do the math.
No more doubt.
I. Am. A. Runner.