This is Michelle. We did another half marathon together on Saturday, our third one together now.
We have a fairly complimentary running pace (although she’s faster, but will deny it). And we live close enough to one another that we can manage to get together some times on weekends for our long runs. It’s quite handy.
There is a strangeness, though: our running camaraderie, which I appreciate tremendously, seems to largely depend on an ongoing disagreement we have.
She makes me do what I couldn’t do alone. She not only tolerates my grumpus attitude, but responds to it with insane optimism and compliments. When I grovel at her all pitiful and beg her to run with me because I am too full of hate to carry on, she’s all “that sounds awesome! let’s do it!”
And then! Then she gets all grateful about what I got her to do.
And so we bicker, about who made whom do what and who should take responsibility for the motivation.
But I am telling you, my time for this grotesquely hot* half marathon would have been at least 30 minutes longer without her. I would have given in to a laborious jog/walk plod after the first three miles. It could have been a very long, boring, and sad struggle.
Instead, even though it wasn’t the PR I was hoping for, it was still 20 minutes faster than my worst half times. And our pace for the first 8 miles was actually surprisingly good. And she somehow inspired me to all out sprint it at the very end.
I totally owe that woman some bacon.
*Please don’t judge, but grotesquely hot means about 85 degrees. When the temperature runs from 58 to 72 degrees all the time forever, we suffer in any deviation.