As the week curves at the 300 meter mark, I remember all my failed attempts at negative splits.
Negative splits were everything 16-year-old-me was told to want as a cross country runner. Don’t talk with your best friend as you both lose pace with the others—focus on negative splits. Don’t wave sticks around like wands while you’re running trails to avoid running face-first into spiderwebs—focus on negative splits. Don’t look at the boys running in their tiny short shorts—focus on negative splits. As if.
I failed.
I’d eke out a faster second mile on race days, but my third mile was always my slowest. Afterwards, we’d pore over race stats that my coach collected on her clipboard, and it always came to this:
“Start out slower next time, Emily”
Every single time! I got the same feedback! Over and over! All four of my high school racing years! And I simply just didn’t get there.
As the distance between me and those race days grows longer, I recognize how essential that first fast mile was to my progress. I knew myself: If I started out ahead, I’d fight tooth and nail (foot and spike?) to preserve my position. I also acknowledge the youthful eagerness that kept me from taking a more thoughtful approach to achieving the goal. In that way, I did not know myself like I believed I did; I was like a poltergeist inhabiting a new body, still getting used to its functions.
As this week paces towards its end, what reserves have you left for yourself? How have you rested to support your body for what needs to happen today? And how will you breathe your way into the Friday evening finish line?
I’m not positive, but maybe there’s hope for negative splits after all.
Next Steps: Drink a glass of water, absolutely don’t check in on those cross country boys, and (oh you’re going to hate this one) go to bed early tonight, because you’re jogging tomorrow morning. Deal with it.