Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Running is funny. What is the one bit of advice I hear over and over again about long runs?

Don’t go out too fast.

What is the one thing I tell myself over and over again after I’ve made that mistake?

Don’t go out too fast.

What did I tell myself right before I started my 12-mile group long run this morning?

Don’t go out too fast.

So what did I do?

I WENT OUT TOO %&#$@* FAST!

I was fat, dumb and happy approaching the first mile marker. You would think the fact that I was way ahead of the pack would have clued me in. Duh. Checked my watch – 8:09.

EIGHT-OH-NINE! Jeez, only about 45 seconds faster than I should have run it.

Well, you know the rest. My splits increased at roughly the same rate as the national debt. I negotiated the nasty hills well enough, and I still had a respectable 50:20 at mile 6, when I picked up a side stitch. Then the walls came tumbling down. I finished with average splits of 8:50, which don’t really indicate how awful I felt.

I’ve even got extra evidence that I shouldn’t go out too fast. My half-marathon PR came in a race where my first mile was 8:46 and my last mile was 7:18.

Well, the great thing about running is there’s always tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ve got an 8-miler to do and only one thing to remember.

Don’t go out too fast.