From the first pen, I go out fast. I'm tight, but I'm OK. First mile is 6:30. Second mile, passing the reservoir, is a little harder, but I'm cool. Also 6:30. Keeping this pace is too difficult. I slow down, but running down Harlem Hill pulls me forward. At the base we turn east and head towards the long, snaky incline that takes Harlem Hill's place as the mid-loop killer when you're running clockwise, as the participants in NYRR's 10K Scotland Run were on April 4, 2015. Third mile was 6:29. This could not go on. I turned, and started the climb.
I hate 10Ks. Absolutely hate them. They're fast. They're longer than you think. They hurt. They're the speed of a 5K but twice the pain for twice the distance. Marathons, half marathons, have some clout, some presence; these are impressive distances. But ANYONE can run 6 miles. RIght? There's no glory in a 10K. We all know how hard they are to do well. The necessary combination of a stout mental game and the physical base of all those miles underneath is both compelling, and unique. But really, all in all they're just annoying as fuck.