Normally, I can’t run with Tom unless we do some kind of contained workout (stadium stairs) or unless he ties his ankles together (this has yet to happen). I told him that I needed to do more hillwork for my upcoming marathon, so I wanted to see if he was willing to do 45 minutes of up-and-downs on perhaps the longest and steepest hill in town.
“Yessir,” he texted back.
Tom, who’s on a quest to PB a 10K and just PB’d a 5K with a sub-22, zipped up and down that sucker smoothly and strongly. I plugged away, slowly and steadily. I tried to focus on the proper form of running up, the right form for running down.
What was most significant to me that day wasn’t that I initiated and completed a hill workout that I have typically avoided, but what didn’t happen.
I didn’t spend any time beating myself up when comparing my performance to Tom’s.
I didn’t bail at the end of the fifth repeat when I had time to get in a sixth.
I didn’t stop in for a predictable post-workout reward (never mind that it was 8 a.m.).
It may not be much, but every once in a while, it’s okay to take a moment and celebrate the didn’ts as much as the dids.
