The
inspiration for this post comes from a Carrie Underwood song- Starts with
Goodbye. My first race started with
letting something go, and trying something new- something to replace what I was
saying goodbye to.
I go
through different phases when I decide to make some big changes in my
life. It usually involves whacking my
hair off, or getting some kind of dye job.
This is often accompanied by a few rivers of tears and listening to some
mood music that makes me remember some good or bad times, and then motivates me
to move on.
So I
started a new series of saying good bye to the old and hello to the new a few
months ago. It started with the
traditional hair cutting (although it hadn’t been that short since I was 10). I’d been dealing with an issue that had
plagued my inner psyche for about 6 months.
So, there were tears shed once I finally found the key to dealing with
that. To replace all that I’d let go, I
decided to take on a challenge I’d wanted to do, but thought I wasn’t good
enough to try- entering a 5k race. I’d
thought about trying a race since I had started running with Edward the
previous summer, but couldn’t get up the courage to do so. A friend of mine had invited me to run a few
races with her, but I always found an excuse not to. I had the kids, or had too much homework, or
wasn’t feeling well. While all those excuses
were legitimate, the biggest reason was fear.
I didn’t think I could do it.
Running had never come naturally to me, even when I ran with my dad and
then tried cross country in high school.
I always felt like my lungs would explode or my legs got super
itchy. Perhaps the biggest problem,
though, was that I just didn’t have the mental fortitude to push myself to keep
going.
But like I
said, this past spring, I reached the point where I needed to replace the old
with the new. Since I was almost done
with my degree (kinda) I figured I needed a new challenge. Like Kermit will tell you, I can be quite
stubborn, and as I’ve been known to do in the past, I just have to make up my
mind to reach a goal or tackle a challenge, and then no matter how daunting it
seems, I find a way to make it work. I’m
not a quitter, so I don’t give up until I’ve accomplished it. Like becoming drum major my senior year of
high school, or getting into UNCG on saxophone even though I’d barely had any
private lessons growing up, or like getting my Master’s degree as a single mom
being stretched in a hundred directions.
In the
spirit of wanting to replace the old with new, I made up my mind to go for it.
I signed up for my first race. It was benefiting veterans and wounded warriors.
Since my internship in DC was still close to my heart, I thought this
would be a great place to start. It was
on Memorial Day and I approached it with a bit of trepidation. I wasn’t sure what to expect- I mean, it’s
like those times when you’re trying to picture what it will be like, like the
first day at a new job, or having your first child- and when it actually takes
place, you laugh at how far off you were.
I got up
super early, donning some of my favorite running clothes, some cotton stretchy
capris and a silky running shirt, my still-new fancy running sneakers, stepped outside, and
started shivering. I’m sure you could
have seen my lips going blue- really. So
I grabbed a nice cotton hood-less hoodie jacket and figured that would do. Getting on the on-ramp, watching the sun
rise, my stomach contained a spider that I must have swallowed overnight,
wiggling and jiggling and tickling inside.
I’d looked at a map about a hundred times to make sure I could get to
the starting line in time. I’d picked up
my packet the day before so I could make sure and miss the crowds. So when I got there, I basically stood round
for about an hour, feeling nervous, not knowing anybody, not feeling confident
enough to really go up and talk to anyone, and trying to keep my teeth from
chattering right out of my mouth. My
stomach kept rumbling and I wondered if I’d be running to the bathroom at the
last second and miss the start of the race (I didn’t- mind over matter thankfully
worked).
Now since
I’d been running for almost a year, I felt fairly confident that I could do
pretty well. They herded all of us
across the street for the starting bull horn blast. As soon as I heard the annoying sound, I took
off. I was feeling pretty good until all
the kids started passing me. Not to be
outdone, I kept going, trying to set what I hoped was a comfortable pace. After about 3 blocks, I had to take off the
jacket, noting how quickly I started sweating- which wasn’t evaporating from my
skin, making me uncomfortable. So I tied
the bulky now-detested jacket around my waist.
I noted that this didn’t make it easier to run. My simple stop watch showed how much time had
elapsed (that’s about the only feature it has), and I thought based on the mile
markers that I was doing pretty good. It
was great having so many people around.
I hated it when someone passed me, so that encouraged me to keep going,
even up the steep hills (I did have to stop a few times, however).
There were
quite a few times I really wanted to give up.
But, this being a 5k, and the back end of the race being mostly
downhill, I just kept pushing on. When I
got to the end of the race, some kids were holding out their hands for 5’s, and
this put a smile on my face and encouraged me to push around that last corner
and sprint to the finish. When I saw my
time of 30:03, I couldn’t believe it- my fastest time ever on a 5k! I was ecstatic! But, of course, that time wasn’t good enough
for me. I wanted to be faster. I was embarrassed that all those kids passed
me. A 10 year old flying past me just
wasn’t acceptable. And thus began my
quest to keep racing and keep getting faster.
Looking
back on this first race now, only three months later, I realize I had only seen
the tip of the ice berg when it comes to the world of running
competitively. From my clothes to my
time, to a completely new dictionary of runner-speak, I had stepped into an
almost completely unknown universe. And
I realized I loved it. I loved the
feeling that came after a race. Sure, it
sucked while I was in the midst of a steep hill. I hated those horrible side cramps. And I worried about my heart going crazy at a
random time, knocking me on my butt in front of all those spectators. But the
euphoria I felt after crossing that finish line was incredible. I couldn’t believe I’d not only finished an
actual race, but that I’d done better than I’d ever done before (what I only
recently learned is called a PR-and now I can’t remember exactly what PR stands
for). Hearing those cheering fans took
me back to the excitement I’d felt stepping out onto the football field for
each half time performance or competition in marching band in high school- and
I loved it! Little did I know then that
I had replaced an old addiction with a new one-running. But, I figured this one
was much more healthy for me, especially mentally (well, and physically).
Not long
after that first race, I signed up for the second, about a month later. With each race I’ve learned something
new-both about running, and about myself.
I’d like to pass along what I learned both to you and my future knight. So watch for upcoming blogs about this
journey as I continue to get ready for my first half marathon in two months. On your mark, get set, go!
