Running My First Ever Sub 50 Minute 10k On A Treadmill
Tonight I ran my first ever sub 50 minute 10k ever. It was on the treadmill at the Pure Gym in Oval.
What makes me proud of that time is that I did an hour on the elliptical, along with a respectable 40 minutes on the stationary bike before hitting the treadmill.
I came close to breaking 50 last week with a 51:59, however the thought of actually running faster than 50 seemed so far away to be irrelevant. It was something I could maybe hope to achieve in 2 to 3 years time.
Not tonight, definitely not tonight.
I knew my legs were strong from the start of the treadmill workout. I began slowly for the first minute at about 8k an hour and picked up the pace to 12.5km and let my energy come to me.
Sustaining that pace seemed quite easy for once and it was only when I got to 5k at 24:59 that I thought the sub 50 was possible.
My learned reaction to this in the past has been to panic, slow down and to talk myself out of shooting for anything ambitious.
This time I drew on my vast reservoirs of dissapointment that I’ve experienced over the past 3 years and just fucking went for it.
Not achieving the sub 50 was not an option this time.
I think I started growling and slobbering at the very end when I cranked the speed up to 16km. By this time I was so dehydrated that there with no more sweat left for me to piss out of my body.
I didn’t bother with any of the cooling down on the treadmill. After 2 and a half hours of exercise I just started mashing on the Stop button as if I’d missed my bus stop and just let myself drift further to the back of the treadmill.
I didn’t fucking care if i had to be scraped off the belt by security, I’d actually achieved something for once. This was my time to shine.
The feeling of success with the sub 50 10k was tempered by knowing that I had made an almighty fucking mess with my sweat and it would take a major clean up operation that I was too exhausted to undertake after all the effort in the run.
I bent down to swab the base of the treadmill with my sweat towel and accidentally farted. I did not shart, but the surprise of it caught me out and I made a hasty retreat to the shower room and then fucked off back to my flat on the tube.
I stopped off at the Little Pret at King’s Cross station for a celebratory can of Ginger Beer that I drank in one slurp whilst on the down escalator. The tarty flavours attacked my sinuses and I made a loud rasping growl of a noise that was reminiscent of the Ghouls from the Fallout games.
Several people stared but I didn’t give a fuck. They will see and hear much worse tonight with this being St Patrick’s Day.
This fucking ghoul is on a high for once.
A sub 4 hour marathon might not be impossible after all. All it takes is a lot of effort and a little bit of self belief.
The average pace for this run was 7:46 min/mile. I’ve never ran sub 8 before on average.
Now I just need to run this fast outside. My jerk brain is telling me that this is just a one off.
Fuck you brain. I conquered you for once you fucking cunt.