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).
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| But hey, at least my nails are awesome. |
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.
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| Catching up with Stephanie after the race and meeting her sister |
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.
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