Race Pace.

Two weeks, to the hour, before the Broad Street run, I hit last year's race pace approaching Locust Street on the river-side of the path.  It was a hard finish, over only my ankle's hesitation, and completely worth it to see "1:31" flashing high on my Garmin after ten miles.  At this time last year, a ten minute mile was my true companion (thank you, Mark Cohn) and finishing the Broad Street Run in one piece, the only goal. 

Now, almost a year later, my ankle wrapped up with peas and carrots, an ace bandage holding it all together with a sleepy terrier resting on top (he really takes the "C" in "RICE" seriously), I am certain that I've done everything in my power to heal, get strong and toughen up and, because of that, I know I am ready for this race. 

This is not a comeback, because I never left; and it is not a proving ground, because the only thing I've ever needed to prove was, to myself, back in November when there was nothing but me, a stationary bike and an emptiness I can't describe:  amidst that, I stuck.   The Broad Street Run has become more about that moment, on the start line, just as the corral gun goes off, when you suck in the early morning air, look around and let the adrenalin take you pacman'ing through 2,500 people, than it is about anything else. 

It is the 6:00AM cab ride to Central High School, fumbling with your pins and bib while crushed up against teammates.  It is the warm-up lap, with 20,000 other runners, that is so slow you can't tell whether you're moving or others are simply moving around you.  It is the 7:00AM runner's mass with 35 people spread over hundreds of pews, praying for graceful strides, a warm day and no injuries.  The Broad Street Run is more than 10 miles in one direction, it is the race in 2010 that showed me what I am capable of.  At that time, it was the greatest challenge I'd faced head-on, the most dedicated I'd been to any one goal since my law degree and the exact 90 minutes that I fell back in love with running. 

On May 1st, I will go back there - stronger and tougher, surrounded and in constant motion, ever forward.

Here's to the best 10 miles in Philadelphia!