The race that almost wasn't
I’m going to write this post like I tell my students who are struggling with an English paper: just get it down and worry about what it sounds like later.
Except that’s a joke because I will literally worry about every sentence that I’m writing down as I’m writing it. While telling you that I’m not worrying about it.
Lying to you already. Off to a good start.
Okay, so the truth is, I don’t want to write this. I’m not really sure why I am except that maybe I think it will be good for me? So, it’s not really for you at all; sorry.
And, if I’m honest, I don’t even like hearing my thoughts most of the time, so I’m not sure why I would subject anyone else to them.
So I’m blogging now. Or substacking? Whatever.
I’m blogging about the race that almost wasn’t yesterday.
I’ve serially signed up and then not participated in a startling number of races lately in what feels like a number of “I want to, but I don’t want to” situations, but also “I want to, but I’m scared to not do well” situations.
Over the past couple of years, I’ve been struggling with watching my performance seemingly take a nosedive while grappling with the limitations of training while teaching full time and parenting 5 busy kids. I guess participating in a race was analogous to stepping on a scale for the first time in a long while, being forced to confront just exactly where I was. After all, a year ago, I won the Trail Marathon 50K and then PR’d in the marathon just a week later in Louisville. After a year of tepid, inconsistent training I knew any race would not only be physically, but mentally and emotionally difficult. Even if I managed to get to the starting line, even if I managed to finish the race, could I deal with reconciling myself with the results?
This isn’t a story about working hard and overcoming those doubts and fears.
This is about learning that I don’t really trust myself and beginning to see that I can (or that I should try to).
This is about learning to be okay with just being okay.
This is about defining my intentions for what I do.
The rundown:
The Trail Marathon Weekend is an RF Event held in Pinckney, Michigan’s Waterloo Recreation Area. The start and finish are at the Silver Beach Recreation Area, and the trails wind through miles of forest. There is a 5 mile loop, a half marathon loop, a full marathon, and 50 K race. The half-marathon is a condensed version of the infamous “Poto” trail. The full marathon does the loop twice. The 50 K does two loops, plus the five mile race loop.
In the weeks and months leading up to this, I was constantly yo-yo-ing as to whether or not I would actually do this race. I thought that by signing up, I would be committing myself to it, but as it turns out, I just tortured myself in the lead up. The day before the race was my birthday. It was long and terrible (a post for another day), and I honestly didn’t think I was going to do it. To top it all off, I learned that Colby wasn’t going to be there with me, which threw me for a huge loop mentally. It wasn’t that I couldn’t handle going to a race by myself, it just put a different spin on preparation. Sleeping in and not running over 30 miles was looking pretty amazing. But, at 10:30 pm, my eldest daughter wandered into my bedroom and said, “Mom, I think you’re kind of a baddie for doing this race by yourself.” That did it. I was doing this race.
Loop 1:
Taking off from the start, I made myself repeat the purpose of this race. Finish. That was it. If I could learn some things about taking in calories, great. But, from the outset, I knew that today was going to be a tough day physically. I needed to just take it easy and give my body a chance. I decided not to think in miles, but in aid stations. There were 2 aid stations on the 13.1 mile loops and another at the start/finish line. That meant I could think of this race in 4-ish mile chunks, making 7 chunks in all. I set my watch for 15 minutes and made myself drink water every time it went off, with a goal of emptying as much of my water bottles as I could in between aid stations. Every other time the alarm went off, I took in calories.
I found that I got more stressed and enjoyed myself less the more I was around other runners. I kept telling myself to “chill” and raced entirely by feel. If I started feeling like I was pushing or stressed, I dialed it way back. This is an relentlessly hilly course with a lot of technical trail and terrible footing. With the rain, I knew my odds of falling were pretty good, so being relaxed and present was only going to help me get to the finish line.
I started to gain confidence in myself during what I called “chunk 2”. This is an especially difficult section that just seems long. I was working the hills and feeling good. I finally let myself be proud of the fact that I got up that morning, put on a sports bra, and got to the race. And here I was out doing the damn thing. Not only that, but I was crushing these hills! That little boost carried me to aid station 2, where I was greeted by an enthusiastic crew of volunteers who fed me candy, chips, and soda, gave me compliments, and sent me on my way to finish loop 1.
Loop 2:
This is where my self-confidence started to bloom. I made it through the first loop! My legs felt surprisingly fresh. I was dialed in. As I started onto lap 2, the field had thinned out, so I was pretty much all alone. I repeated the purpose of the race: Finish. I told myself to chill. As I approached chunk 2 of the second lap, I was mentally prepared. I didn’t dread each hill I saw ahead, I just told myself it was another one I could check off the list and leave in the dust. Before I knew it, I was approaching my favorite aid station.
I think it was here that I realized that I wasn’t just going to finish, I was going to feel pretty good doing it. I was pleasantly surprised and had that unfamiliar feeling of pride. It was unsettling, and I kept waiting for it to take a turn, but I was also excited at the possibility of maybe just pulling this off.
It was also here that one of the aid station volunteers told me that I was “gaining” on the number one 50K female. Oh man, whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy did you have to tell me that? I was doing so well not giving a single darn about where I was in regards to place or time. This information had me grappling with my inner competitor; she’s not just the one who wants to beat everyone, she’s the one that thinks her worthiness is dependent upon how well she does. I had done so well keeping this at bay. I had a decision to make.
I thanked the volunteer and cheerily told him that I was only interested in finishing. I took my pickles and went on my way. I was going to run my race and was very happy with that. And I was proud of that.
As it turns out, as I was finishing loop 2, I caught up with the 1st place runner. She was coming out of the aid station heading out to loop 3.
Loop 3:
I honestly wasn’t strategizing. I was just running. I felt strong. I felt stronger than last year going into loop 3. I remembered that the first mile and a half were very hilly, so I tried to take it easy and chill. I was smiling. I was doing it.
I hit the final stretch. This portion contains a hill simply called “The Hill” which seems to go on forever. This was my third time doing it and I was determined to crush it.
When I flew into the finish line, I was so pumped. But it wasn’t because I won the race I didn’t train for.
It was because I obviously put in more work than what I gave myself credit for doing.
It was because I have more grit than I thought.
It was because I am a smarter runner than I remember most of the time.
It was because I learned that maybe I can start to trust myself again
.
Hey way to go! Happy for you!
You are a beast!