The Pain Train

This week has been tough at work. My supervisor is on vacation, so that requires me to field an awful lot of questions from the other engineers in our group. I basically just try to keep the wheels spinning until the boss gets back, which is very different from actually being in charge.
While the long days have been tough, they have not been nearly so painful as Sunday's second annual (for me) running of the Tarzan Brown Mystic River Run. The weather was gorgeous, and Wifey and Sweetness accompanied me to the starting area to cheer for me at both ends of the race. I even knew a few people who were running as well. Talking while running is not the most efficient way to conduct oneself during a race, but those who know me know that I have been blessed with the gift of gab, so I chat with those I recognize. And a few I don't.
After a gradual start, I picked up the pace a bit to keep stride with my coworker Nick. At mile 1 I heard the watch holder call 7 minutes, which was not bad. After 3 miles I was around 20 minutes 30 seconds, which was even better and made me realize I should coast for a little bit. Sure enough, after cruising to mile 5 I heard that watch holder call just shy of 35 minutes. That was good, because my goal was to beat 40 minutes (7:14/mile pace). It was also a bit agonizing, because I was starting to feel bad. Actually, awful. Actually, thinking death might be a sweet release. I mean, I'm kind of a tractor when it comes to running, a big load, full diesel, pouring out black smoke on the hills, all that jazz. Nonetheless, as I approached the last corner, there was a small group of runners about 20 yards ahead that I just knew I could pass. So I poured it on, black smoke and all, and ripped right by them! No joke, they were actually cursing me as I went by. And then... I realized it wasn't the last corner, and I had about 3 blocks to go. I did make it to the finish line, but my mis-estimation was written all over my face in discomfort, according to Wifey. It was great to see her and Sweetness waving and cheering, but I needed a minute to regain my strength and focus on not puking and stuff.
After that passed I was able to enjoy the fact that I beat my goal. Five and a half miles in 37 minutes, 24 seconds, for a 6:48/mile pace. Huzzah! I've never beaten 7:00 in a race before, so that was nice. Strangely, having handily beaten the goal I set for myself, and facing long hours this week at work, I have not so much as put running shoes on my feet in preparation of next week's EBAC Fall Challenge. I figure my body needs the rest, and let the 4.75 mile chips fall where they may.