Bear with me for the diversion at the start - it is relevant to my fastest and most memorable race.
I started running at secondary school, when I was 11 years old. I wasn't talented, but I did have an ability to run at my red-line for a long distance (3-4 miles in those days). I needed a hard surface and flat terrain, to make the best use of my running style.
Because I did well in a few school road races, I was chosen as a member of the school team to compete against other local schools. I was excited to do well, especially as my Dad was coming to watch.
Unfortunately nobody told me that the race was both cross-country and obscenely hilly. Look up "Old Sarum Salisbury" if you want to see the topology. The first time I tried to climb out of the moat, I was physically destroyed. By the second time, I was mentally destroyed as well. By the third time, I was reduced to tears and walking. And with my Dad watching at the finish, I crawled across the line humiliated ... and in last position.
Now roll forward about 20 years - and I've transformed into a respectable runner (2:29 marathon). I travel to the same area to visit my Dad, and we find a local road 5-mile road race for myself and a friend to run. My Dad drives us to the start of race, where we find about 300 runners. The course is hilly and the weather is too warm (23C). Neither of which is ideal for me, but I'm quite fit and ready to rumble.
I'm in the leading pack of about 10 runners as we hit a major hill after the first mile, and I see my Dad watching. Entirely unexpectedly, my mind is transported back to that traumatic school race so many years before. It's scary how our bodies remember pain, suffering, and fear — how raging rivers of anxiety permanently alter the geographies of our minds. I can clearly see that traumatised 12-year old boy, and I feel a tremendous storm of sensations and intense emotions. And over the next 4 miles I go on a physical and mental journey that's really hard to explain. Not because I don't have the words, but because it's too raw and personal for a public forum.
The splits tell at least part of the physical story. After that first mile of 5:23 (flat), they went 5:05 (uphill and flat), 4:56 (flat and downhill), 5:08 (flat and uphill), and 4:50 (downhill and flat). I've never run anywhere close to that time since, nor have I ever experienced those emotions again. It was an emotional catharsis, a ferocious explosion of anger.