🏃 Km 6 and already negotiating with myself

On Sunday, I ran the 20k of Brussels. Next to the 10 Miles of Antwerp, this is probably the event I have run the most. The venue is amazing, with the start and finish at the Jubelpark, and an even more spectacular dressing room inside the Royal War Museum. I always enjoy coming here and changing into my racing kit next to all sorts of jets and planes.

As I hit some PBs earlier this year, I was out to set a good time or at least come close to my PB of 1h28 from two years ago. My last two training weeks were not ideal, with a shortage of runs and distances due to a slight viral infection and days when I was unable to run. But according to my tech devices, it was possible, so I remained hopeful.

Fifteen minutes after the starting gun, me and three friends were off, followed by 40,000 other crazy enthusiasts. The first kilometers are always filled with adrenaline and excitement, so the key was not to overdo it, especially as the course has some climbs and descents. I checked my watch; my power reading was okay and my legs felt similar, so I continued as I started. Two of my friends got ahead of me; one dropped behind.

I thought I was doing okay until I hit km 5–6. My heart rate got higher than usual, and my legs suddenly felt blocked. Feeling like this at the beginning is not motivating, knowing what was still to come. However, at km 6, I saw one of my friends, who had gotten ahead of me, keeping level with the 1h30 pacer, showing he had to slow down as well. It motivated me to try to keep up, but my legs couldn't support it. I had to slow and let people pass.

Once you're in a spot when things aren't going your way, the mental game starts to play. And not in a good way. The voice in my head went straight to the negative. However, over time I changed my attitude.

"Take it as a lesson."
"Complete it as a training. The main goal is Amsterdam/Valencia at the end of the year."

It helped, and I was able to calm down.

However, I quickly got another beating as my friend, who was behind me, ran past while I was unable to follow his pace. I saw him go until he was out of sight.

But, as I told myself before, today would not be a day of records but one of keeping myself together and finishing the event. At every refreshment stand, I took enough water-a bit to drink and the majority to splash on my body to cool down. And it helped.

With this and the course being flat for several kilometers, I started to feel better. My legs started to feel free again, resulting in an increase of pace. And I started to enjoy myself and the race again.

Just a bit further, I spotted my friend in the distance, and with every stride, I started to catch up. At km 14, I caught up with him. My legs felt okay, so I kept going.

One final hill was to be concerned about, but I knew the finish line drew closer. I pushed through and finished! In 1h32! Not the time I had in mind, but still one I was very happy with and which showed that I didn't actually slow down that much (although I looked like I did when I was running).

In the end I found out the humidity and temperature were to blame. And I wasn't the only one suffering. Some people crashed near the finish line, and my friends didn't perform much better either, finishing about 1 minute before me.

1:32 is only four minutes off my PB. But given the conditions, the two rough training weeks, and the way I felt at km 6, I'll take it. The shape is there. Sunday just wasn't the day I could prove it.