In a particularly odd moment of synchronicity or serendipity or something, I present the following portion of a conversation regarding training paces with my friend Carly (of CarlyBananas Fame):
Me: You’re getting FAST, hun! Whats your goal pace for your half marathon?
Carly: I think I’m aiming for under 2:30. There’s a 2:30 pace group, but the next lowest time is 2:22. So I’m going to stick with 2:30 until around mile 10 and maybe take off and try to get the last 3.1 in a little quicker if I can.
Me: Yeah you can always go faster at the end if you save, but go too fast at the beginning and the end will be a disaster
Carly: According to my training I SHOULD be able to hit around a 2:20, but I don’t know if I want to stress myself out with a huge time expectation on my first half.
Me: My HM PR is 2:28:29. Go beat me! 😀
Carly: Haha I’ll try! Hopefully the wheels don’t fall off.
Why was this a funny moment? Well, not 30 minutes before this conversation, I had gone to take all of my personal property out of my newly wrecked car. It was legally parallel parked the other weekend, when someone decided (drunkenly?) to smash into it at a high speed, doing about $7,500 worth of damage and then flee the scene.
When I got to the body shop, I asked where the car was in the lot and asked for my keys. The girl behind the counter started kind of laughing as she got my keys for me. I gave her a confused look and she said, while giggling, verbatim: “You don’t need directions. They tried to put it up on jacks and the wheels fell off. You can’t miss it.” Apparently no one at the body shop (a multi-make major dealership’s body shop mind you) had ever seen this happen before. It’s nice to be novel, I suppose.
Now, any time I’m in the middle of a run and I start to hit the wall, I’m just going to take a deep breath, some water and some carbs, and remember what happened to my car: It takes a drunk idiot and a lot of strange bad luck for the wheels to come off. I’ll be fine.