Taking part in races ...

Taking part in races offers the chance to meet other runners and to witness each other's means to make it to the finishing line. That gives you some perspective. You get to see slim yet muscular bodies which look perfectly adapted for the running experience and bodies which just look the opposite. And a whole bunch of examples in between these two extremes, the Gaussian peaking halfway through. You, competitive-spirited, can't really help the comparison, your mind does it unconsciously. As fast your vanity flatters against the latter as you grow jealous of the former, of that privileged elegant runner whose figure graciously floats in the air to soundlessly land softly on the ground in every stride, breathing in flawless silence all along despite the effort involved.

I'm only an inch away from your untalented, run-of-the-mill popular runner.

Let's be honest: I don't think I've really enjoyed the two half-marathon races I've so far taken part in. True, I've finished them both, and in less than two hours in every case, also true. And yes, who would have told me only a few months back? So, the question is vexed: why do I have this bittersweet taste?

I think I do because of my very doubtful nature. After almost two years of running I still have to prove that running does suit me, that I'm not forcing it, that I'm only running for my own sake and not to be praised by acquaintances, friends or relatives, that I can improve and attempt higher goals while actually enjoying the training process and the actual races themselves.

I like running, most days.

I like the feeling I get after I finish my training. I like those rare moments when I seem to run without any effort. I like to run in isolation through a beautiful landscape. I like the cold and I like the heat. I don't even mind a refreshing drizzle. And I like the burst of happiness triggered when the perfect run and the perfect song in my iPod magically merge.

I also think I'm stalled. I actually think my development stalled shortly after I started running. There was a brief exponential period of major improvement followed by a slow decline towards the weary plateau of my current humble pace. Signing up for races has been a motivation but my actual performance in those has left me quite uncertain about my capabilities as a runner. I think I've failed in those races and I wonder if this failure is concomitant to my physique. Here I am, this far along the road and still learning to accept my form and shape and their associated shortcomings.

I'm well aware I have just missed the whole point: the mark should not be the goal. The only important goal is the run itself, and the joy derived thereof. The race will always be finished, in due course, no matter when.

Easier said than done, you fool.

I'm well aware I have just missed the whole point: does it matter?

You bet.

If I leave aside that slight fixation with the mark adding an extra handicap to the attempt and try to understand the reasons for those failures I think I can hint at a red herring. In both cases I started running the first 10 kilometers somewhat above my training pace, 15 seconds faster per kilometer, something I probably shouldn't have done. Causes and effects. In my first race I ended up with a painful muscle injury. In my second race I could hardly run the last five kilometers. One could argue that 15 seconds should not make a big difference, shouldn't it? I'm not sure myself. On the one hand I don't think it should and I should just be able to sustain that faster pace during the entire race. On the other hand I think it surely does in a long enough run such as a half-marathon, turning my failure the only possible natural outcome of an ill-conceived race strategy.

I dunno.

My secret hope of one day running the full thing is jeopardized. Only a major change in my approach could perhaps make it possible.

At least I think I know what the problem is. Meanwhile I won't forget those bursts of happiness when the perfect run and the perfect song in my iPod magically merge.

How could I?