Written Jan 05, 2025
Hello Dear Readers,
This year, I made a bold proclamation: I’d conquer the 10K run more frequently than last year. Lofty, isn’t it? Well, it sounded heroic at the time. My main goal? Shave some seconds off my pace and make my running app sing my praises.
Let me set the scene: halfway through today’s 10K, I realized I’d missed my target pace by just a few seconds. Naturally, I did what any mildly obsessive runner would do—I pushed myself like I was being chased by a very determined turtle. The result? I barely hit my goal pace, but hey, “barely” still counts!
Looking back, it’s wild to think how far I’ve come. When I first started running seriously about 7-8 years ago, just finishing a few kilometers felt like scaling Everest. Rewind even further, and you’ll find me relearning how to walk after a brain stroke. Fun fact: my brain remembered that walking was a thing, but it forgot how to send the memo to my legs. The first time I told my wife I wanted to try running, she probably imagined me face-planting spectacularly. Spoiler: she wasn’t entirely wrong—I did fall a few times. But bruises fade, and determination grows.
Fast-forward to 2018, when we moved into our current home. I was still a slowpoke. A 5-kilometer run felt like a marathon, but over time, it stopped feeling like torture. Then came the glorious leap to 10 kilometers. Now, here I am—trying to outrun my past self, armed with sheer grit and slightly sore legs.
Speaking of sore legs, they’re the price of today’s achievement. My reward? I felt general weariness and the smug satisfaction of knowing this was my second-fastest 10K on record. Not bad for someone who started by jogging a single kilometer like a wobbly giraffe.
My endgame this year is to smash that 9:00 min/kilometer barrier. Today’s effort brought me closer, but it also left me with legs that felt like overcooked noodles. Stretching to the rescue! My daily leg stretches after a plank session is now less a routine and more a survival strategy.
So, here’s to run faster, recover smarter, and celebrate every hard-earned second because every step—whether wobbly or swift—proves that I’m still moving forward.