weekly ass-kicking

so i'm running with the big dogs this morning
and i'm thinking - way too soon into this run,
that they feel fast. that, or i feel slow.
and i'm ok. and hanging on. sort of. barely.
but then
i
start
falling
off
and this is before the halfway water stop.
i get to the water fountain & coach asks how i am.
and i say i'm not really feeling the love.
and my heartrate is holding steady at mile repeat heartrate.
he says he'll hang with me & we can take it down.
thank you.
and we start again. and i can stay with him. and chat. but barely.
i look at my watch & see heartrate still holding steady at sky high.
and i think if we are taking it down a notch, i'm in trouble.
a 10 minute pace would be nice. walking would be nice. can i walk?
hey! i have a great idea ... how about i sit here on this curb, you go get your car, come get me - pour my sorry ass into the backseat so i can pass out on the way home.
yeah. that's a cool plan.
but shit, i'm still running.
past the bakery where the buttery smell makes me want to puke.
and then, i can't even keep up with coach & he's gone.
i'm thrilled though, when i look at watch & realize i only have 15 more minutes.
but still. i'm tempted at the intersection to turn left, and my 15 minutes could turn into a mere 5. no. i can't do that. that would be shameful.
and then i wonder if the run would be better if my mantra wasn't
this run is kicking my ass
where did they go? i think they went up this street.
i'm almost there. it's almost over.
and it's ok. cause i'll always have last week. when i hung on. the whole time.
another square crossed off the schedule. another day closer.
the best part?
tomorrow is a rest day.