Running is a sport built around pain. Hardcore runners undergo excruciation that most people can’t imagine. And yet, in this sport built around pain, the most dreaded feeling is disappointment.
Perhaps that’s why, in the strange blend of feelings I have about this year’s Broadstreet, the most prominent one is anticlimax. I’m glad I raced, grateful for the weather, and yet my disappointment lingers.
Usually I would cross the 7th mile mark on leaden legs. From there, the sunny open road would stretch on forever. The last three miles would seem insurmountable.
I had a similar sinking feeling when I hit 7 miles this year, but for the opposite reason. I was running on bouncy legs. I had plenty of energy left– too much.
I pushed the last three miles, but it wasn’t enough. I crossed the finish line knowing that I could have gone faster. Some people like that feeling; I hate it.Share on Facebook