2010: It’s day of the big race! My first 5K ever! ...I am usually not a morning person at all, but today, my nerves are in high-gear…Somehow, I don’t leave enough time to get ready in the morning. How does that always happen? I made a pot of coffee, but of course, I didn’t leave myself enough time to drink it….I grabbed my Gatorade (because, that’s what athletes drink) and my tossed my runner’s bib (that’s fancy runner lingo for “race number piece-of-paper-thingy that you safety pin to your shirt”), earmuffs, gloves, and my inhaler (yeah, I have what they call “allergy-induced asthma”…it’s dumb) into an old plastic bag that I grabbed from under the sink and headed outside.
2011: My alarm went off at 6:30 a.m. Good. I have almost an hour before I have to leave. I turned on my coffee pot and put on my running clothes and watch which I had laid out the night before. I laced up my shoes and put on my SPI Belt. (Sounds cool, doesn't it?) It’s my newest running paraphernalia. It’s this great belt that goes around your hips and has a small zipper pouch to carry essentials. For me, that would be my rescue inhaler. Luckily, I rarely need it anymore. My asthma usually only affects me in extreme weather, but I like to carry it for races, just in case. I love my SPI belt! Not only is it handy, but it sounds like really cool, top-secret spy gear. It’s like I have my own super hero costume. After a breakfast of toast, coffee and a banana, I was ready to go.
2010: On the suggestion of my trainer/friend, I made a goal for myself…I wanted to finish this race in under 38 minutes and I wanted to run the entire distance. (Now, for you non-runners out there, that’s about 12.5 minute miles…pretty slow in the running world, but downright lightning fast in mine.)
2011: My trainer/friend had asked me what my goals were for this race and I really only had one: to beat my personal record (P.R.), which at the present time was 28 minutes and 12 seconds. But, I wasn’t feeling too confident about achieving it. I had a rough week of training and felt really sluggish. I was worried about the cold and told her I’m preparing myself to finish it in 30 minutes. She instantly laughed that idea off. She told me that I was underestimating myself and that I love cold weather running. She said, “You run faster in the cold! You love the cold! I predict you’ll finish in 27:41.” How she came up with that number, I don’t know…But I appreciated her encouragement.
2010: I had coerced another friend of mine to be my pacer during the race. You see, having only run three miles once or twice during my training, I was a tad worried that I’d wimp out and walk, or run too slow and not hit my goal. So, I asked a buddy of mine to run with me to keep me on pace….We stop to pick up my running pacer, Matt, and we’re off to the races…
2011: This year, not only was my friend, Matt, going to run it again, but my husband, Dean, was going to run it too. And, I was looking forward to seeing some other running friends I had met during this past year. I never realized that there was this not-so-secret little club of friendly, encouraging people out there, just waiting for me to join their group and welcome me with open arms. Every person I’ve met that runs, has a similar trait: we root for each other and we truly want to see each other succeed. That isn’t always the case in our everyday professional and personal lives, but it is in the running world. We are all striving to meet the same goal, and we all have "war stories" to share. We also want every one of our comrades to do just as well and feel just as good, as we do ourselves.
2010: ZING! My heart starts to race. The blood is pumping through my veins and me feet feel like they're rats trapped in a cage trying to get out. I’m scurrying and hurrying and trying to weave my way in and out of all the people…to break through the initial crowd so I can settle into my pace...All these people! I’ve never had to run with so many people. …Finally, the road opens up a bit… Matt and I are running comfortably and I remind him that we’ll try for a quicker first mile, knowing that it’s all downhill…One of my main goals is to run this entire race…Runners are passing us now. I’m freaking out a little…I glance behind me. There’s a huge sea of runners. Okay. I’m not in the back. That’s good. Boy, it really is easy to start to panic. Matt starts telling some jokes and random pop trivia to take my mind off the running. My trainer warned him I need distractions. She also gave him a big speech about how I would try to talk him into walking part of the race and that I would want to slack off…We come up to the one mile marker and I check my watch...I just ran a mile in ten minutes and fifty-five seconds. WHOA! That was the fastest mile I’ve run since I began running just eight weeks ago.
2011: I meet up with some of my other new running friends and we all head out to the starting line. A few of us start to work our way towards the front of the pack, while Matt and my husband hang near the back. We want to be in a good position when we start so we don’t get too tied up by the walkers or slower runners. When I see the high school track team, I tug on my friend’s shirt and pull her back, as I say,“ Uh…let’s hang right here. We are definitely not faster than the track team teens.”
As usual, I’m full of jitters and can feel the energy rushing through my body as I wait for the start. Suddenly, the announcer gives us the 30-second countdown. This is it! My nerves are on high alert and I start jumping up and down like I’m on a spring board. Literally. With my feet together and shaking my arms out at my sides, I jump up and down about eight times, releasing some of my nervous energy and warming up my legs. An air horn sounds and the runners take off. This time, there’s a starting mat for our chip timing. I take off weaving in and out of runners and settle into an opening in the road. I’m running alone, but I know my friends are running somewhere behind me. I hope they have a good race and wonder if I’ll be running alongside them at any point during my run. Ahhh…it’s downhill. I remember this from last year. I use the momentum of the downhill to pick up speed...let the hill and gravity do the work for me. I just focus on my breathing and moving my legs, knowing they will not get tired. They are strong. I’m not worried about who’s running around me. We all have our race to run. I’m focused on seeing how much I can push myself. I smile as I remember something my brother told me, “It’s a race. If you don’t feel like you’re gonna puke at the end, you’re not running hard enough. A race is not a training run. You’ve got to push yourself on a race.” I see the one-mile marker and check my watch, 8:55. Yes! I just ran a sub-9 minute mile. (And, I was a full two minutes faster than last year!) I’m right on target. I start running up hill now and head into the park. We’ve had rain and a bit of snow, so the gravel trail is a tad icy. They had race volunteers along the route shouting to watch out for the pot holes and ice.
I was feeling a bit winded and slowed down a little. I approached the water station and grabbed a cup. I walked for about ten seconds and slowly ramped up my speed while I kept my eyes on the ground and worked my way through the treacherous ice and pot-hole-filled trail.
As I turn out of the park back onto the road, I know I have to pick up my pace. I focus on my breathing. My legs aren’t tired. My arms aren’t tired. I know I can do this. I just have to push. Keep the air coming in. My body forces a yawn and I know I’m not getting enough oxygen. I cough a bit and take a few quick gasps to catch some good air and keep my lungs filled. I see the 2-mile marker and glance at my watch. That last mile took me about nine-and-a-half minutes. Shoot! I knew I was running slower over the ice, but I’ve got to go faster if I want to get a P.R. Then I remembered that I did walk for about 10 seconds. That made me feel a little better as I told myself: this is it. Last mile. Push!
2010: I hit the 2.5 mile marker and I know I’m nearing the end. Thank God. I am so tired. With each step, it’s an inner struggle with my body. My head is telling my legs “Just stop. Take it easy for a second.” And my heart is pushing me on, “Keep going. Keep moving those legs. You’re almost there.” That tug-of-war going on inside my brain was exhausting me.
2011: As I came up to the 2.5 mile marker, I was beginning to feel fatigued, but I knew I was near the end. I checked my watch again and saw that I had run that half mile in just about four-and-a-half minutes. I smiled. Right on target! If I can just keep this pace up, I can do it -- I can get a new P.R.! Just four more minutes. That’s nothin’! I stay focused on what I need to do as I silently will myself to go faster, "Power.... Power.... Power." Over and over I repeat that word in my head. I start to make my way around other runners and I see an old friend of mine taking a needed walk break. I shout out her name and throw my hand in the air to root her on as I passed by. I hoped it would encourage her to finish her race strong. I wanted to shout more, but just couldn’t spare the oxygen.
2010: This is it! I’m doing it! I’m doing it! I’m going to finish this thing strong! I try to muster up every ounce of reserve strength I have left. Suddenly, the excitement I felt was overwhelming. I start running around other runners, dodging the small children who seem to keep cutting me off. (Outta my way kids!) I pick up my pace, lengthen my strides and just pump out every ounce of power I can. …I finished my first 5K in 34:09! I just hit it out of the park and blew away the goal I set for myself. I see my family. They’re cheering and screaming and hugging. It was amazing…
2011: I keep running faster and my breathing gets louder as I’m running that last tenth of a mile to the finish line. Less than one minute and I’ll be over the finish line. I can push harder. I know I can. As I’m running it in, I hear another new running friend yell my name from the sidelines, “Go JULIE!” I glance over feeling energized and push even faster. I run across the finish, immediately slowing to a walk and step to the side to stop and catch my breath. I thankfully grab a bottle of water from a volunteer and work my way back towards the end of the race to see my other friends finish. I watch for them with eager eyes as I’m gulping my water. Each time I see a runner I know, I scream for them and cheer as they across the finish line. I’m still not sure what my actual finish time is, but if my watch is accurate, I know I hit a new P.R. Once I find all my friends, I go to check out my official time. As I run my finger down the page to my name, I feel the excitement exploding in my chest. I think I felt just how the Grinch must have felt when his heart grew three sizes too big. My official time: 27:29! I had an average pace per mile of 8:52, and I broke the top ten in my age group, placing ninth! I felt like the smile was stuck on my face for the rest of the day.
What a difference a year can make. I often whined to my trainer that I just wish running would get easier. She always answered the same way, “It’s never easy.” I was often disheartened by that…but now I think I know what she meant. When I first started running, everything about it was hard and it seemed impossible to me. Now, I know my legs are strong enough. I know they have the power within them to keep moving, as long as my heart and lungs and brain keep pushing them to do so. It is the mental struggle that makes it hard. Ironically, it is the mental strength that makes it easier. It is words of encouragement from those around us, from others struggling with their own race that keeps us going. It is the small and big achievements we make that keep us going. It is the feeling of success that keeps us going. Of course, I have bad training days as well as good training days. Some days, my body is so tired I feel like I’m running through sludge and everything hurts. But some days, I feel like a superhero, running faster than a speeding bullet, feeling powerful and strong. Those are the days that keep me coming back.
The best part of the race for me? Crossing the finish line and knowing: I did it. Here’s my second favorite part of a race… calories don’t count on race day. My brother and his wife say so. And they’re real runners. And so am I. And here’s something else I’ve learned this past year. Every person is a real runner. If you have the ability to walk, you have the ability to run. Whether or not you choose to, is up to you. You are a runner. Whether you’re slow, or fast, doesn’t matter. And when you decide to take that brave step and try it, there will be an entire community of runners ready to welcome you with open arms, warm smiles and plenty of cheers, no matter what the clock says when you cross the finish line.
"In running, it doesn't matter whether you come in first, in the middle of the pack, or last. You can say, 'I have finished.' There is a lot of satisfaction in that."
-Fred Lebow, New York City Marathon co-founder
"The answer to the big questions in running is the same as the answer to the big questions in life: do the best with what you've got."
- Anonymous