Dubai 10KM
I race for me. I don’t do it for a living, it’s not my job. Racing is hard, really hard. To allow yourself to mentally relax, but physically push is no easy task. In a race, no matter the distance, you are vulnerable and exposed. But when we overcome difficult situations we acquire confidence, strength and have a sense of achievement.
My thinking has not always been this way. I have previously caught myself racing for the sake of it, or because I think I need to prove something. That’s a slippery slope. And over the last year or so, I have had no problems with a DNS (did not start) if I simply do not want to race.
As I stood on the start line for the 10km, I looked around in awe at some of the females in the starting pen. I knew there were going to be some fast times, but more importantly I knew that their paces need not have any impact on my race. I wondered if I would find someone to run with, but then reminded myself that this is Dubai; it’s quite common to end up “racing” solo.
My race plan was simple … 8/10 effort, to feel like I am holding back until about 7KM. Then we start going.
For the past 6 weeks I have been trying to make anything from 3:45 - 3:50 km pace my “goal 10KM pace”. Track sessions allowed for this, but anything longer and with less rest, the pace was not coming to me. Occasionally I hit 3:50s on the beach track, but they were often followed by a walking recovery as opposed to jogging. Therefore, despite my mini taper, I figured it was best to let go of the pace watching and run to what felt manageable for 10km (8/10). That familiar running term “comfortably hard”.
The gun sounded and we were off. The firsts few hundred metres of a 10km are always hilarious. People hammering themselves to be at the front with the pros, to be on camera… strange really! Anyways, I settled relatively quickly and the first KM clocked in a 3:46. “That’s interesting”, I thought. I wondered whether it was the classic false feeling at the beginning of many races or speed sessions. But it somehow felt different to that. I felt in control.
I clicked my watch every time I saw a KM marker, but wasn’t getting too hung on up what the watch was telling me. I knew how I was feeling, I was all good. The course looped around the outside of Expo, I had zero context of where we were, but it didn’t matter. I could see a couple of females up ahead, and I just told myself to try and keep them in sight. By 7KM, I was tucked in behind them.
A moment of chaos broke out at about 8KM where the 3 of us ladies, and the 2 guys we were also running with, caught up with the walkers at the back of the race field. One by one we ploughed into the back people trying to get through, before we somehow communicated to each other that we should jump off the road, through the stones, and onto the pavement running parallel to the course.
This was where the race started. The last 2KM of the course was inside Expo, full of sharp turns and tiled flooring. There was no watch clicking here. Heavens knows where the 9KM marker even was. Emilia, Katy, and I took turns to hold on, to push, to pull, to lead, to catch-up, to surge. Running… the sport where you work together to help each other, but fundamentally you are trying to beat each other. It was insanely fun. I was knackered. I was loving it. I wanted it to end, where was the end?!
Almost from nowhere it suddenly arrived, my legs were buckling, I had nothing left in them. I knew that my race plan was to push for the last couple of KMs, but this was something else. It was a group effort, and it found me another gear. Every time there was an ounce of doubt in my mind, I replied by running harder.
I crossed the line in 38:07 (3:46 pace) with a shiny new PB, by 45 seconds. It was by no means easy or effortless. Likewise to the training. For the longest time I had sub 40 as my 10KM Goal… sub 38… I will find you!
