Notes
I got competitive. Started out nice and easy, comfortable pace. Ended up on the bike path, where I passed a woman going the other way. I went to the end, turned around started back. Passed her again going the opposite way; she's about 4/10 of a mile in front of me. Decide that it's go time. I passed her in mile 7, which ended up being 6:32. I passed her one last time, and she told me she tried to catch up, but just couldn't.
The feeling of pushing through, the legs and lungs screaming about how much they hurt, the mind and spirit telling them to shut the fuck up and GO GO GO! The single-minded focus of the pursuit, of chasing down your target. I went past, and never looked back. I could hear her try to hang on, so I pulled down harder and put more distance between us. That urge to win, to just go for broke. It's not about time. It's about something way more primal; that killer instinct. Some have it, some don't. Some have it in spades.