The Wooden Spoon

I am not a blessed athlete. I am blessed that I am healthy and capable enough to run, but ability or talent is not overflowing from my running cup. Sometimes during a race or training run, my much faster, taller, male running partner will say something like "I really feel like pushing and hurting a bit" and he speeds off into the distance. And even though I support him fully, it's tough to be the wooden spoon. So. I plod along after him, pushing as fast as I can, whilst quickly running (pardon the pun) into my limits. Panting furiously, burning, sweating and hurting I am the little engine that could not keep up the pace. Sadly. And this is not a chat about speed training or Fartleks or anything related to optimising my speed. Those things we do and talk about peripherally but the reality is that most of us, the weekend warriors, do not optimise, we train to do the job. We train to survive. I am talking about a feeling of inferiority or loss that once you verbalise it is better described as being humbled by your own physical limitations. I realise on some level that running is not really about time, even though we measure everything in time. Running is about attitude. Dealing with ones own failings, the injuries, ageing and lack of talent, is actually how we get better at it. There is of course some rewards as you train more and more but even when I am fit as fiddle there is always somebody that is "in better shape" or younger or faster or...or...or... Remembering that the how well I do, is not the same as doing well takes a bit of introspection, usually overdue :-) Maybe it's ego or competitiveness but it is hard lagging behind. Yesterday afternoon's training run was one of those runs where my partner and I was out of sync. He needed a sprint or a hard run having missed our 8 km training run on Tuesday. So on our way back from a quick 4 km, he sprinted away from me to "feel the burn". I had two choices, I could relax and gently jog back home or I could push equally hard and see how long I can keep it up. Not keeping up, but keep it up. I pushed hard. Competing against the gap between us and my own breath. 

Accepting my own physical limitations and as always running provides. Even though I still got the wooden spoon, I found a way to feel competitive. Perhaps running is all about realising that the spoon is not really there!