The First Race

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!