When I first started running, my life was ruled by my watch. It told me when to wake up, when to run, when to eat, when to walk. I obsessed over splits and gauged my success on how fast I was running on a given day. A fast run meant a good day. A slow run ruined my day. When I started road racing I put even more pressure on myself to run fast. And at a point in my running career I was fast. Little by little I improved, with track workouts and hill training shaving minutes off my personal bests. Keep in mind that, at my best, I’m a mediocre middle-of-the-pack mid-distance runner. Fast for me was a 5K under 25 minutes, a 10K under one hour and my personal holy grail, a sub-two hour half marathon.