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Mixed emotions

January Half Marathon Challenge Badge This running lark can't half mess with your head sometimes...

Monday night - long run night. Conditions were pretty much perfect; cool but not too cold, dry and almost no wind worth mentioning. Headed out, got into my stride and the ks just ticked along nicely.

Got to the 10 mile mark and I was feeling good; the legs seemed to have plenty left in them, so I pushed on. Onwards... 17k... 18k... 19k... 20k... it was still going well, I even managed what for me resembles a sprint finish to bring it home and complete HM distance. In doing so, I set a new PB, knocking just shy of 18 minutes off my previous best time.

Was I delighted? Of course I was. There was, however, a "but". Not a big "but" by any means, but a "but" nonetheless.

My new time (according to Strava) was 2 hours 30 minutes and 23 seconds. Was I trying to go under 2:30? No. If I'd known there was a possibility that I might have gone under 2:30, could I have run any of it any faster? Probably not. Was smashing 17 minutes and 55 seconds off my previous best not a huge achievement that I should be justifiably proud of? Of course it was! So why then, do I feel ever so slightly gutted that I missed out on a sub 2:30 by less than 30 seconds? Given that this time last year I hadn't even started C25K, you'd think I'd be exultant at this result, and I genuinely am, but there's still just that nagging voice telling me that If I'd only shaved a fraction over a second of each kilometre, I'd have dipped under that psychological bar.

As I said, this running does do strange things to us...

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