A mighty mile

In the month of June, Strava launched the #MyMile challenge. Here’s what I know about the #MyMile challenge:

  • You had to run a mile
  • There was an event when you could run a mile with everyone else running a mile
  • You should be proud of your mile
  • Running a mile is really f*cking hard

I’m a really big rule-breaker, rebel, bad-ass or also known as lazy person and didn’t do the #MyMile challenge during the month of June. Instead I did on the first day of July.

Why?

Because that was the day I would be near my high school track and also it was the day I remembered that I wanted to do it.

I have to say, I was really nervous driving over to the track. I had Bennett (#InstagramBoyfriend) with me and I was venting to him about my glory days of running the mile during track meets. I was either DFL (dead f*cking last) or second to DFL. My teammate and I would switch on and off. It was a thing. I truly can say I don’t remember a single race time for the mile after four years of racing the mile and the 800. How would I have know that a decade later I would be so curious.

Empty track, lots of empty bleachers, hot and sticky humid air. 11:30AM on a scorching hot July morning and I was out there doing my own little time-trial. Me, mighty me, running the mighty mile.

I didn’t mess with headphones, just blasted music off my phone while holding it. The first song that came on was Justin Timberlake’s “Suit and Tie”– which was nice, because I was a big JT gal while roaming the halls of THS. Then again, who wasn’t?

Lap 1. 

Wow. This hard. Don’t look at your watch. 

Lap 2. 

There is actually no way I can do 2 more of these. This really hurts. I can’t breathe. Don’t look at your watch.

Lap 2.5. 

Just stop when you get to 1200m, it’s fine. You did your best, it’s, like, really hot out. Nobody is watching. Don’t look at your watch. 

Lap 3. 

Sh*t. Just keep going. Look at your watch: 5:45. Ok, let’s try to do this in 2 minutes. Get this done in two minutes. 

Lap 3.5 – 4

AAAAARRRRGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS THE F*CKING WORST HOW DO PEOPLE DO THIS WHY IS THIS HAPPENING I’M DYING THIS IS THE END. JUST SCREAM THE LAST 100 METERS AND SCARE THE POOR HIGH SCHOOL BOYS PLAYING SOCCER ON THE FIELD. 

And, done.

IMG_3263
Breaking world records and going to Tokyo 2020.

 

 

anna_run-77.jpg
Have you ever seen such drama?
anna_run-82.jpg
Oh, come on, why does this say .99?
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Why can’t I just close my mouth? Should I get my roots done again?

Wait, so how fast did I run that mile? I’m sure you’re dying to know because I’m an Olympic contender.

7:41.

I remember running a 7:45 on this same track last summer during NYC Marathon training and squirming with pride.

This 7:41 was hard f*cking work. It was hot out there and it rocked my world. But somewhere right before I crossed the line into my fourth and final lap, I made it known to myself “This is my choice.”

Pushing myself is my choice.


 

And then I stood there, holding side, nauseous with my face burning and I just couldn’t help but laugh. It took guts outta me and that was really hard. That was a 7:41 mile. That was what effort looked it, and I was obsessed with it.

Since last Saturday I’ve pushed myself a little bit each day. Two times with running, once with a friend, a few times with myself and a lot of times at work.

I won’t do myself the disservice of not pushing myself any longer. Because when you put in effort you see results, and if you don’t, you grow a little.

I don’t need to break 7 minutes in the mile to feel stronger or faster. But whether I’m running 10 minute miles, or 3 minute miles (lol) I will always chasing that feeling at Lap 4.

Next month I’m running the Brooklyn Mile. It’ll probably be hot, humid, sunny and a scorcher. And it’s going to be chock full of effort.


 

Are you following me on Strava? Come see my fun titles for runs, because Evening Run just doesn’t truly sound as good as “Sushi Finish Line” or “WTF was that?”

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