Making peace with pace

Let me just say it right now: I am a slow runner.

In fact, I don't know if I have the right to call myself a runner at all, given my usual pace. Jogger is a more apt term but I really don't like that word.

In the name of owning my weakness, I am going to share it right now:

Twelve minutes per mile.

That's how "fast" I usually go on a long run.

I can do better on shorter runs of 5 miles or less. But even on those, I'm at or close to eleven minutes per mile.

When I'm running on popular routes, like the B-G trail or around Greenlake, people pass me constantly. I try not to let it bother me, but it does. I take a shameful pleasure on the all-too-rare occasion that I'm able to pass someone else.

I know that there are things I can do to increase my pace. More speed work. More running in general. But I don't want to do those things. I just don't want to be the slowest person on the road.

But the philosophical part of me thinks that it's good for me to get passed up. It forces me to question why I'm running, what my motivations are and how I define success. So, although it's a work in progress, I am trying to make pace with my pace.