When I run poorly, I grieve. I feel embarrassed for running so slowly. I blame myself. I decide that fast race a few months ago must have been a fluke and this is how I really run and everyone thinks I'm pretty fast but they're wrong and I'll never run that fast again.
It passes. I bounce back. Usually in a day. Sometimes longer. I've gotten better at it with experience. But when it's happening, it feels like the end of the world.
When a friend runs poorly, I feel none of this. I don't think "oh my god, I can't believe she ran so slowly, that's embarrassing" and I don't think "she obviously wasn't trying hard enough" and I definitely don't think "she's done, she'll never be good again; I can't believe I ever thought she was fast." I think "shit, she had a bad day. I hope she feels better soon. I wonder if there is anything I can do to cheer her up in the meantime." Such is the cognitive dissonance that plagues me.
Sometimes I forget that other runners have bad days. I remember my bad days forever but I forget about my friends', my teammates', my sister's, and my competitors'. I remember their good races. I remember my sister's breakthrough half-marathon PR that got her interested in training seriously and qualifying for Boston. And I remember when she qualified for Boston very clearly. I remember Andy's 2:34:49 marathon debut. I remember Kimber winning PNTFs. I remember Drea going from out of shape after a long break to kicking some serious ass just a few months later. I remember Rose hauling it on the track and I remember her winning obstacle course race after obstacle course race and taking home several grand. I don't remember any details of any of their bad races, except that maybe I consoled some of them and I think one of my sister's involved a hurricane.
Just in case anyone views me this way, here are my worst days I can remember:
1. Let's take it all the way back to my swimming days, some eleven or twelve years ago (oh god, I'm old). There's a scratchy feeling in my throat and I have a low-grade fever but I don't really care because I want to race the 100 Fly. I want to beat Elena. So I show up at this swim meet and tell my coach and go ahead with warm-up and realize I feel awful. I scratch from most of my events but I keep myself in the 100 Fly because it's the best event ever (at this age I'm yet to discover the 200 Fly). I pop cough drop after cough drop until the whistle to get up on the blocks and shake out and dive in and swim a fantastic first fifty. And that's it. I stop breathing and the officials pull me out and I feel like I can't even stand up straight and I get home and my temperature is 104 and I have pneumonia. Naturally, I'm upset that I didn't beat Elena.
2. It's 2009 and I've been running for a year and I've knocked out a 19:56 5K already so I decide that means I can walk on Maryland's XC team. I do it. With a stress fracture. I recover and get my mileage up and feel pretty good. Coach Dunham tells me I can finally race. So I order some spikes off the internet and show up at the Panorama Farms Invitational with no idea what to expect. When the gun goes off I try to hang with the fastest girls in the field (who eventually go on to run twenty minutes in the 6K). I run an awesome 800. Then I fall apart. I waddle my exhausted, nauseous, and sore ass all the way to a 26:06 6K on a fairly typical course to take last place. I want someone to tell me it was a terrible race, because it was, but Coach Dunham just says "first college race!" The head coach later cuts me from the team.
3. 2013. I've had a phenomenal summer season. 5:36 mile, 10:50 3000, 18:40 5000. All massive PRs. After my sister's wedding I get very, very sick. I essentially cannot eat for a week. I start to feel a little better and decide I'm going to do the Railroad Days 10K anyways because I know I can run 38:45 and I'm itching to prove it. By mile three I already want to die. I spend the rest of the race wondering if I should just stop because god knows if I run over forty minutes it's embarrassing and slow and everyone will judge me forever and I don't want anyone to think I'm actually that slow and this is terrible and why am I even doing this? I convince myself to keep going and run 39:49 and feel awful every step of the way. As if to mock me, this time stays on the Best Times List all year. I relapse and cannot eat again for the next week.
4. Same season. Two weeks later. Just one more race. I don't want to end my season on that note. Just one more race. Just let me squeeze out one more race. The Labor Day Half. I stuff my face with carbs all week leading up to it because I know I'm glycogen-depleted. It's hot and Tom knows I've been sick and tells me to be conservative and in my twisted head, conservative after being that sick means 6:40 pace. But after a few miles, 6:40 pace doesn't feel so bad so I start to pick it up. And I feel alright. Until I get to mile five or six. I shut down. I can hardly sustain a jog. I know this feeling. It's the end of a marathon. Except it's only a half. I drag it on until mile eleven looking for someone, anyone I recognize so I can finally end my misery and pull off the course. Finally, I find Andy, who says something like "you can do this!" to which I say "NO I CAN'T!" and pull off the course and cry. I walk a few miles of shame to the finish and all along the way the photographers take pictures of me like I'm still racing. Gail gives me a hug. Tom asks what happened. All I can say is "I just stopped. I don't know. I just stopped."
After that last race, I sent Tom an upset email and he gave me his little glycogen speech but then dove into a paragraph I'll never forget. Ever. And I want to immortalize it.
I hope you can use this to gain perspective. It is an easy trap to take your identity from your time in some race. Please don't do that. You are so much more than that. More than a simple time, so much more than just a distance runner. It can be part of your strength, but it should never become the whole thing. It's disappointing and frustrating to be sure, but you just have to continue to look at the big picture and move on. Easy for me to say! :)
I had a bad day today. I feel pretty good about it though.
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