I ran my first half about three years ago, in preparation for my first 26.2. Despite the name of the race's location (Rocky Hill, NY), I did not anticipate any of its hills. I ran it with a stomach bug. I was an energy gel novice. I trudged along very, very slowly.
At one very difficult section of the race, I was struggling a lot. There was a guy just behind me and to my left. His feet were pounding along the pavement very loudly, and he was clearly as exhausted as I was. But to accompany his tired footsteps, he sang, between breaths and like a metronome, Johnny Cash's Folsom Prison Blues. The sadness of the song and the exhausted perseverance in his voice matched the tone of my tired, buzzing brain and methodically pounding feet perfectly. His song was the fuel that somehow uplifted and carried me along the last five or six miles with a greater spirit, to a relatively strong finish.
To this day, whenever I am in a rough patch of a race or a run, my mind starts playing Folsom Prison Blues, and it eases me into the rhythm that I need. Slow and steady, that song gets me through.
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