So I missed my first 100 mile race - I suppose if you never get there - it isn’t missed right? Anyhow, I had to refocus, something I am slowly beginning to tackle. Some days still knock me out and send me crawling back to bed, but last week I almost had 2 good days in a row. I’ll take it. I’ll take what, if anything, I can get in the way of joy and progress in this still acute phase of grief.
I asked Conrad last week, “How are we going to get through this 50 mile race if I can’t even manage to string 2 days of running together?”
His response, “Sheer will this time around I think Kristen. Nothing but determination and stubbornness.”
Humph I thought... Then I thought some more about it. I know that for me goal setting has been tantamount to signing up for the races and completing the intense training, but it hasn’t and never will be an integral part of the running experience. In my world, running and racing are two separate entities which have very little to do with each other. I’ve almost always loved running: the feel of my feet pounding the ground, the sweat pooling in the crevice above my elbow, the slight burning in the lungs, the sun on my skin. I can go anywhere I want on a run. And often I do. I meditate, I move, and I absolutely love being alive - having the blessing and the gift of movement.
Racing - well that is something completely different. It’s an exhausting, nerve wracking, intensity that I place on myself for months at a time. I count my calories (making sure to eat enough), my liquid intake, my steps, my miles down to the tenth, my sleep, etc... I’ve never gone into a race unprepared - minus the Cowtown half that I signed up for on a whim 16 hours before the event and while still in full recovery from major surgery mode - and as such - I’m always abundantly prepared and largely lucky in ways of weather which have helped me reach almost every goal I’ve set. It takes a certain amount of focus and a tremendous amount of dedication & discipline to consistently reach for those goals and continue hitting them. It’s the yang to the ying of my peaceful, intuitive, instinctual runs.
Knowing that there is very little chance of me finishing this year’s JFK in top form, or at the top of the women’s leader board as my initial goal, I had a moment of weakness wanting to quit the whole running business. But then I came to my senses and started placing these moments and ideas and goals in perspective.
How about I just finish the race as a goal? How about I just get to the start line and see how I do? And in the meantime throw out the training plan with it’s 20+ hours of intense training a week - just get up and go - just run -until I am tired, I am weak, I am sick and I can run no more. Run when it’s nice, run when I want to, maybe 2 or 3 times a day if I feel like it. Work on my spirit, be mindful, continue to discipline the mind with meditation & yoga and just be thankful that I can get my ass out of bed every morning. Be thankful that I have an adoring family and a compassionate husband and child who hold my hands when I don’t know they need holding and care for me in ways I never knew possible. Be happy with the end, be happy with the means, work to get through all the in-betweens with an occasional smile and continue to run. I love running. I love being at one with my breath and my physical self - pushing my limitations and seeing where it takes me. Chained by the idea of a time goal or a place goal, I think I’ve forgotten the true nature of the run, the race, the event is simply to exist, to be, to breath and to finish with a peace.
That said, sometime soon I am looking forward to throwing my all into training again, into a time goal or a place goal, when I have fully healed from this most difficult of events. Until then - I will be easier on myself, easier on my body and understand that I am happy to just put the shoes on and get out the door. It’s time to fall in love with running again.
Miles run - 60+ Consistent Yoga, Biking & Meditations 5+hours
