The pictures in my head

Do you ever get pictures in your head when you run? I realized during Tuesday's speedwork that every time I get a kick at the end of a run and really throw it into overdrive for those last few seconds I get an image in my head of pouring gravvy. Ok, ok, ok, that kinda sounds odd, maybe even a little weird, but I guess I liken that final kick to Thanksgiving.

Imagine that it's dinner on Thanksgiving. You've just loaded up your plate with fresh made mashed potatoes, oven roasted turkey, your aunt's made from scratch cranberry sauce, fluffy corn bread, delicious green bean cassarole. Really, the plate is enough food to feed a small country, but it's not quite there yet. The last thing you put on your plate, the thing that tips the scale from just another meal to an obscene feast, is grandma's homemade gravvy. As you pour it over your food you even nod your head a little and say "yyyyeeeeeaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh."

Now when I'm in the final stretch of a race and I'm dying with every step and all that stands in front of me is that tiny little bit of road leading to the finish line I don't want to just run that last stretch, I want to anilhilate it. I want to make it a run to remember. I want to take the great run I've had and tip it from great to phenonmenal. And suddenly something opens up deep inside, and my legs move faster, and I'm spanking that pavement, and I run as if the flames of hell are licking my heels. In short, that moment is what changes the run from just another training run into a race.

Since the little moment of pouring gravvy on your Thanksgiving dinner and pouring on the extra heat in the race have very similar emotions tied to them I guess one just triggers the other. At least that's how it works in my head.