How this sport makes me feel

It's no secret that this sport is an emotional roller-coaster. It's almost impossible to justify why we like it so much to people who don't just get it. Sometimes it's even hard to justify it to ourselves.

This morning I raced fifteen miles as overdistance in my build-up to my goal race, the Cinco de Mayo half-marathon. I thought it was crazy when I signed up, I thought it was crazy while I was racing, and I still think it's crazy now that I'm home in my warm room sitting on my lazy butt gorging on enough pasta to feed a family of four. But something is so right about this. So I'd like to share the emotional roller coaster that was this week.

Tuesday, 1:30 PM: Like a Goddamn Golden Retriever
I'mgonnaraceSaturday and I'mgettingsofast and I'monthephonewithmycoach and hesaysthere'sawayIcangetmorepowerinmystrideandfindnewgears and hesaysIshouldtrytonegativesplittherace and I'mdoingaworkouttonight!!!

Tuesday, 7:00 PM: Angry
All I had to do was make it through this one last workout without getting hurt before I backed off. And I got hurt during the warm-up. I overestimated myself by exactly one day. Time for intervals on the bike. I'll pretend I'm running.

Wednesday: Sad and Jealous
Practice is tonight. Everyone is running a workout. I want to be running a workout too. I hope my patience pays off and I can race this weekend.

Thursday: Calm
I'll take today totally off. I've accepted the hand I've been dealt. There's only one thing I can do right now and that's heal up so I can race. And if I can't race, I think I'll be alright. I'll show up anyways and cheer on my friends and boyfriend and maybe race in a few weeks when I'm healthy. Nothing I do (or don't do) this week is going to impact my fitness for this weekend, so I might as well chill out.

Friday, 9:30 AM: Elated
I've just come from physical therapy and things are looking very good! I think I'm going to be able to race. Laura worked on my quad a little and seemed to think I'd be good to race. She is one of very few people I trust to help me make decisions about whether or not to run.

Friday, 8:40 PM: Anxious
I have terrible pre-race anxiety. It has gotten a lot better recently with the help of a local sports psychologist. But it's still there, especially when things don't go my way. At 8:20 PM I realized I didn't have any granola or yogurt left and the cafe wouldn't be open in time for me to pick it up before the race. So I went to the cafe to get it ahead of time, and I figured I'd be back by 8:30 PM and I could stick and stretch, then relax and watch The Good Wife while eating my night-time cereal with soymilk and raspberries and get to bed by 10:00 PM. Except the barista at the cafe must have been new because she took twenty minutes to get through the three customers in front of me and take my order and my anxiety took over and I kicked the fridge with the drinks and yogurt in it and started crying in front of a lot of people. Now I feel embarrassed and still nervous and I can't get my brain to shut up. I'm pretty much a terrible person for the 24 hours leading up to a race (I didn't even sit with my friend at lunch at work because he said he had a cold, and I waited for a second elevator when the guy getting into the first coughed).

But hey, at least my nails are awesome.

Saturday, 6:30 AM: Nervous and Excited
I must be crazy because I know exactly what I'm getting myself into. It's going to hurt a lot. And I'm going to like it.

Miles 1-5: There
Gun. There is that spot you're in when everything's right and you know exactly what you're doing. There is the way you feel at the start of the race of your life.  There is clarity. Your legs are floating and you're calm and focused and everything is right. Your teammate Ed is with you and he's chatting along and you feel great and when does this even become a race? This doesn't feel like a race. You're jogging. 6:50.

Miles 6-10: Getting It
6:45, 6:40, something like that. You're starting to hurt and you know exactly what's coming but it still feels a bit surreal. Ed is still there. Chatting. Between breaths. Ari, Andy, Ruth, Kimber, Lauren. Ahead. Coming back. Fast. You're fast. This is good. This is fun.

Miles 11-14: Crazy
This is the turning point. Pick it up. 6:35. Here you make decisions. Here everything hurts and the normal part of your brain says stop, I don't like this and you overcome that and push through and see what you're capable of. And you know what? That's your favorite part of this spo- Shit, when did that hill get there? Crap. Crap. Crap. Ed has taken off. Why isn't this a half-marathon? You'd be done. You can just stop you know. The guy behind you is catching up again. You don't even care. Yes you do. Otherwise you wouldn't be here. So you turn right back to the normal part of your brain and you say you know what, soon you'll be in your room sipping hot cocoa and reflecting on how awesome you ran, and you'll feel on top of the world. You'll feel that way because you're not listening to the normal part of your brain. That dude ain't catching you.

Mile 15: Eager
You're almost there. Just another six and a half minutes of your life and you'll be done. You don't know how fast you're running and you don't even care. You feel like you're dying but you don't care. Those last three-hundred meters on the track are candy. There you are where you most love to be. Leave everything there. Ruth is jumping around and pointing out the finish and you're not sure whether you want to puke or scream or laugh or cry so you do the only thing you know how to do which is run as fast as you can.

Saturday, 10:40 AM: Blissfully Dazed
And then I'm done. Just like that. 1:40:35. I become myself again. I can't believe I just willed my body to do that. Ruth points out that my thighs have chafed raw and I haven't even noticed, so I spend the next thirty minutes in a daze cleaning and dressing my wounds and I'm happy still. Ruth helps because of her super-mommy-powers and I feel comforted. I wander out, still in a daze, to find a potato and water and a Picky Bar and sit around and chat and get my ribbon. And also to figure out what the hell 1:40:35 means.

Catching up with Stephanie after the race and meeting her sister

Saturday Afternoon: On Top of the World
I kick back. Put my legs up. Sip hot cocoa.

The race went well for me and for my teammates and friends (although I like to joke that I got last in my age-group because it was just me and Lauren, and she's super fast). Unfortunately there are no hilarious race photos up yet, but I promise I will post them when they're up.

Possibly coming soon, a (much shorter) post on "shit injured runners say." Unless I'm lazy.

Love 'em or Leave 'em

On Saturday I ran a nice little rust-buster of a 5K, the Love 'em or Leave 'em Valentine's Day Dash. As much as I want to pretend I strategically worked it into my racing plan for this season, the real reason I did it is because my boyfriend roped me into it. There's a couple's prize every year. He saw the results from 2013:

 1.   36:01 Blazzin' Saddles                                   (18:01)
======================================================================
  1    17:56    146 Brandon Byhre           30 M 
  2    18:05    285 Andrea Eiseman          29 F 

And he figured we could win this. And I like winning. A lot. Probably too much. The idea of winning as a couple was even cooler. We'd both have to have good races to do well. It'd be a joint effort. I couldn't resist. Suddenly I found myself moving around my race schedule to conveniently fit in this 5K in early February, you know, as a rust-buster and a tune-up for the 15 miler two weeks later.

So did a bunch of the Club Northwest ladies. And the Oiselle ladies. For a local race, the depth on the women's side was ridiculous. I probably sound like a sore loser pointing that out, but it's really something I'm super happy about. As a Reasonably Fast Woman I often find myself in no-man's land, or at least no-woman's land. The guys' side of a typical local 5K will have a handful of dudes in the fifteens, sixteens, and seventeens bunched together pretty well, but the girls' side will have maybe that one chick in the high sixteens and then a sparse scattering of women between seventeen-something and twenty-plus. That was not the case on Saturday. It was awesome.

My race was pretty good. I tucked in behind my friend Natty who had a stellar race. She dropped me after a 5:55 mile. I didn't really reap the benefits of the depth of the field, I faded a bit, and I questioned my sanity like I usually do (5Ks are so much more painful and difficult than long races and all of you 5K runners are totally nuts). But I still came in at 18:51, a road PR and 11 seconds off of my track PR from last year, and in February at that.

I can also tell I gave it my all because the friendly photographer caught a beautiful picture of me with spit running down the side of my neck to add to my race face collection:

I am such a graceful racer.

That was only good for 19th in a local race, which, again, I find awesome:

Unfortunately, Andy and I came up short in our division:

 1.   34:25 TRI HEARTS                                         (17:13)
======================================================================
  1    15:19    749 Mason Nicol             19 M 
  2    19:06    584 Bri Gibson              16 F 

  2.   34:40 Club Northwest Teamcest                           (17:20)
======================================================================
  1    15:49    772 Andrew Reed             25 M 
  2    18:51    780 Talia Ringer            23 F 

I was pretty happy since those were good times for both of us. Andy's reaction was a sad face and "we don't get a prize?"

Things I worry about before a low-key 5K and the weird things I say to comfort myself

What if I drive and there's nowhere to put my keys?

Then run there. It's a mile and a half away.

What if I run there and it's cold and I'm sitting there freezing before the race?

Then dress warmly and wear a warm-up jacket.

What if I need my ID to check in but I don't have my stuff because I'm not driving and I can't check in?

Bring your license if it makes you feel better.

What if someone steals my warm-up jacket with my license in it?

Then you won't notice until after the race anyways, so who really cares?

What if there are no safety pins to pin my number to my shirt?

What? Seriously, Talia?

MY NAILS AREN'T ORANGE. I FORGOT TO PAINT MY NAILS.

So paint your goddamn nails.

But it's 8:50 PM and if I paint my nails now I might not go to bed in time.

Then don't paint your nails.

Should I wear the blue underpants or the red underpants?

Is this a real question?

This is going to hurt!

That should be exciting.

...

In case you're wondering, I went with these team-colored nails:

I'll be wearing mittens. So, um, yeah. No idea why this matters at all. Rituals I guess.

My old coach told me that I should start a running blog. Like most people who start running blogs, I asked myself why the hell anyone would ever want to read anything I write about running. And like most people who start running blogs, I eventually caved and started one anyways.

The gist I got from Bob was that people are more interested in the time you ran into your all-time favorite American female runner at a party after Club Nationals but were too many drinks deep to say anything other than "you're like my favorite":

Or the time Kara Goucher showed up at some random XC meet in Oregon, hung out with you and your teammates before the race, won the race, and then humored your fangirl questions after:

Or the time you met up with the only other girl on LetsRun:

Or the time you and your boyfriend met up with two total strangers from LetsRun to watch a track meet, stalked Jordan Hasay to the outdoor track, watched her post-race workout, and accidentally ran into Alan Webb:

Or your ridiculous race faces and how much they (hopefully) contrast with your normal faces:

Or even just how much you love being a part of Club Northwest:

Than the fact that you ran seventy-seven miles last week including two strength workouts and two quality days (that might be interesting, but that's what my DailyMile is for). The stories. And since I'm the biggest running nerd I know, I have plenty of stories.

So I'll post them here.