Running is a fascinating sport. I grew up playing volleyball and basketball. You still need mental toughness but when it is a hard day, typically your teammates pick it up for you. Not always, but I was fortunate to share the court with some badass freaking women! When you feel physically at your worst, your coach can substitute you for a quick break, call a time out, quickly change strategies, allowing you to get through. I know this because senior year at state basketball, I had something coming out of every orifice. I consumed massive quantities of Pedialyte, crashed my parents hotel to avoid getting my teammates sick, was fed Imodium like it was my job and I think eventually stomached a few bites of mashed potatoes to try to get a little bit energy. While my body wasn’t 100%, I was able to perform at a level that most had no idea I was even ill.
Today, my body had other plans. Perhaps I started off too fast and “your body said F you for doing this” as my coach mentioned. Maybe my body reacted to the weather a bit differently. Regardless, it was a dark day. One that left me on the side of the road puking, dry heaving and slightly delirious. Shoutout to my good friend, Sue, for sticking with me. At one point I contemplated calling it a day. My body said it was done. My mind and heart had other plans. My motto has always been “no regrets”. I knew if I hung up my shoes, I would be pissed.
If I was going to finish, I would need to change my mindset. And then I was saved by the run Gods. My dear friend Robyn (pacing marathoners) shouted my name, blew me a few kisses because she knew it was a rough day and I jumped back in. She was my savior today. Race day turned into a training run day. Soon I would see my sweet Oiselle teammates at cowbell corner, stop, have a meltdown and be on my merry fucking way. Cate would be around 1/2 mile ahead, more friends at mile 12 and then the finish line.
Once I crossed the finish line, I ran into my girl Sydney who had crushed her first half marathon! It wasn’t a second later when I saw Jodi getting her photo taken. I was so excited to see her. She is the happiest person regardless of the race outcome. She summed up today nicely, ” What the hell was up with all those hills? I’d finish one just in time for another. What kind of sick joke was that?” While we were chatting, a once stranger approached us. She was over the top excited to be talking to women wearing Oiselle gear. I don’t recall her name, but she’s from Arkansas and loves Oiselle more than anything. Naturally, I gave her my number so she can join this amazing squad!
As I was waiting for another friend (runs in your town are so fun because there are several people to cheer for) to finish, I saw this younger gentleman sitting on the sidewalk, basically hiding and in tears. I stopped to talk with him and ended up sharing tears because I can’t see people cry without also crying. He was defeated. He had planned to run the full marathon and his body “locked up”. He knew he couldn’t run and had to switch to the half. He felt as if he let his team down and was almost embarrassed to show his face out of fear.
His emotions were oh so relatable. I knew he wanted to say he didn’t feel good enough. We’ve all been there before. In my opinion, we tend to attach worth to being the “best”. If you’re a millionaire, you’ve made it. If you have so many followers, companies want to collaborate with you. If you’re the fastest, a company suddenly wants to sponsor you. As runners we are chasing numbers because numbers give us worth? No. Numbers don’t mean shit. Sure, run a certain pace and you will qualify for Boston. But a number should never dictate ones worth nor suggest what type of person you are.
I looked at him and said, “I’m honored I could share the roads with you today when you could have easily walked away. Your team is going to see someone who persisted and that will add more value than any time or distance ever will!” And I truly meant it. I’m sure he wanted to punch me, but he simply smiled and thanked me for taking the time to chat with him.
Some days you PR. Some days you don’t. Race time is only a number. Grit is unquantifiable. Running quickly humbles you. Takes you to dark places. Connects you with people from all over the world. Makes you feel alive. Makes you raw and honest. Today wasn’t a PR day but a day I was reminded of why I love running and why I’ll never quit.
Cheers!