My Toughest Run

What running in and recovering from my first 10K taught me.

As I took the final turn from S. 1st Street onto W. Riverside Drive, I could finally see the finish line of my first 10K. Running through the throngs of people cheering the other runners and me on to finish strong helped me dig deep and pull out whatever energy I had left. While training for this run, I pictured this moment and assumed I’d feel a sense of accomplishment. Yet, when I finally crossed the line to complete the race, what I experienced was quite different.

To be clear, I did sense that I had conquered something - I mean, I did finish. However, there were other emotions surfacing that I hadn’t expected in the months leading up to the event: frustration, disappointment, and even a bit of anger. While I had done my best to prepare and train for the race and gave it everything I had during it, the outcome wasn't what I'd aimed for, and it’s consumed me ever since.

Last fall, I had set a goal of running the 10K in 1:10 or less. To put that in a bit more perspective, I would need to run an average of 11:29 per mile to conquer that time. When I did my final long training run of a full 10K on March 30th, my pace was 11:43 per mile, so I felt that goal was attainable, since I was less than two minutes off my goal. Surely the adrenaline of the day and running with my son, as well as a few of my college friends, would carry the day.

Spoiler alert: they did not. I finished in 1:20:24, and my pace per mile was 12:56 – more than a full minute per mile over my goal.

As I walked with my concrete-laden legs away from the finish line, collected my finisher medal, and snagged a lukewarm bottle of water, any sense of accomplishment waned, and, more than anything, I felt defeated. I had trained rigorously, followed a plan, never skipped a session, and arrived in Austin very bullish on smashing my goal. Despite all of that, I felt like a failure – not to my friends or family, but to me.

If I’m being honest, I started feeling that way about halfway through the race: my legs were tired, the hills (with a 700-foot elevation change during the race) were eating me alive, and I was allowing negative thoughts to completely dominate my brain. It was only recently that I started to intentionally find a silver lining in my 10K cloud, and I realized that I learned some very valuable lessons that day:

1. The Story Isn’t Fully Written at the Halfway Point - After a strong start on the first mile and a half or so, I began to struggle on the hills surrounding the state capitol. Right around the halfway point, I checked my pace, and it was clear I wasn’t going to hit my goal. While I didn’t give up, I certainly lost a lot of steam, and I let the reality of the situation impact my performance. If I could go back to mile three, I wouldn’t have allowed my time at the halfway mark to dictate the ending of the race. I can guarantee that I won’t allow that to happen again.

2. Don’t Be Afraid to Ask for Help - Leading up to the 10K (and, my entire time running the past few years), I’ve figured it out on my own. Sure, I’ve used an app or two here, a YouTube video there, and had friends who run give me helpful advice. Looking back, it’s quite apparent that I needed not only help, but support from other runners who have gone through this type of training before. To rectify this, I’ve started looking for a running club and plan to run a few races this fall to hone my training and optimize my results.

3. I Can’t Prepare for Everything - As much as I thought my training prepared me for the race, I knew that preparation fell short as we were waiting (and waiting) for the race to begin in our assigned stall. First off, the humidity was over 90%, which is like running in a swimming pool. So, while the temperature was only 78 degrees, it felt much hotter, and everything from my shirt to my legs felt heavier. Second, some of the hills around the state capital are on the verge of ridiculous. In fact, the hill that “broke me” was so steep I almost had to walk down it for fear of falling. Last, there were so many people I had to spend an inordinate amount of energy keeping my head on a swivel, whether I was passing them or, as was often the case, they were passing me. I need to realize that I really couldn’t have adequately prepared for any of this the way I trained: the hills in Franklin, TN, don’t really rival that of the Hill Country in Texas, the 5K’s I’ve run had 25% of the folks in Austin, and I assumed all races were that way, and no one controls the weather. Moving forward, I need to embrace the fact that there will be some race day surprises.

Looking back, I learned that the toughest run I had wasn’t the one in Austin; it was the one I had in my head. To paraphrase legendary football coach Jimmy Johnson, I let my mind control my body instead of forcing my body to control my mind. Six weeks removed from the race, it’s clear that I was in my head before I even crossed the start line and allowed that to build throughout the race.

In business, how often do we let the negative voice in our head stunt our growth? If you’re anything like me, far too often. If you’re anything like me, that negative voice gets a bit louder when the stakes feel more personal. I’ve learned to quiet it in business. Clearly, I still have work to do elsewhere.

So, yes, I’ve already signed up for the Cap10K in 2027 - not to beat my son, my college buddies, or even the clock. I’m doing it to outrun the voice in my head that told me I couldn’t.