800 meters add up

800 meters into my third mile of the workout and I heard the panic in my head before I felt it in my legs. These jarring thoughts of impossibility and self-doubt. Time is both the blessing and curse of running. It’s not simply the measurement of time, but the allure of letting time take hold of your thoughts. For some reason, when you are exhausting your legs and lungs, this silly part of the brain says, “Let’s run the numbers.” Momentarily, you are transported from the track to a chalkboard where you list the previous lap’s time, just so that you can split the difference on the remaining set. When you start to run, you also start your career as a mental mathematician.

Because there is nothing like the sweet comfort of cold, objective numbers.

So, it was halfway through this mile where I needed to stop and sit down for a second, realizing just how far off I would be from the time that I wanted. I was frustrated, not because I wouldn’t make the time, but because I realized that I wouldn’t make the time. You see, up until the moment where I did the math, I was pushing myself and enjoying the thought of going as fast as possible. In my mind, I was flying. On my watch, I was not.

Not every workout is going to be a winner. It is foolish to think that 1600 meters are going to define the rest of my running success. After I refocused my thoughts, I walked back to the line and finished the other 800 meters. From there, I started a cool down run and ran six more 800 meters. In each lap, I felt sadness and joy. I hurt, both physically and emotionally. I was in pain for the part of me that felt defeated because I knew that the sport is defined by days of losing. There is no consoling someone who is losing to themselves. However, I was proud of the times that I put in, and thankful for the progress that I did see. At the end of every workout, 800 meters add up. Now, that is some mental math I can handle.