I’m a winner, you’re a winner

Saturday morning I won the Richmond Half Marathon. Just kidding. I did run it though, and finished two-minutes faster than my goal time. So it was sort of like winning my own little race with myself.

The week after running my first half-marathon, I discovered I was expecting Eliot. I decided then that I wanted to run another half-marathon just one year later, knowing it would get me moving soon after he was born. I began training for this race when Eliot was 6 weeks old, just over 3 months ago. Having a race date circled on the calendar made getting up (too early) in the morning to run a little easier, and motivated me to go longer and harder than I would probably have done without a specific goal in mind. During my training, I improved from a 25-minute mile (my first after having the baby) to a consistent 10-minute mile pace. I’m not a speedster by any means, but slow and steady ~~wins~~ finishes the race, right? I also lost around 35 pounds of baby weight, bringing me within 5 pounds of my pre-pregnancy weight. Fitting exercise into my routine after having Milo took me about 10 months, so I am really proud of myself to have put forth the effort to fit it in now, and make sure it stays a part of maintaining a balanced life.

Can I tell you a little about the race? It was 30 degrees when we began, and I couldn’t feel my toes for the first four miles. I was running by myself (surrounded by 15,000 people) with just my iPod for company. My iPod playlist hasn’t been changed in a couple years, so the soundtrack of my race went something like: Britney, Christina, Justin, Sheryl, Jamiroquai, John, Josh, repeat. Not ideal, but distraction none the less. I felt good the whole race. Took some water at mile 2, applied chap stick at mile 4, ate vanilla power bar gel at mile 6, then chocolate at mile 10. At mile 9 I chuckled at the beer table. At mile 10 I saw the best poster of the race: “WORST PARADE EVER.” That one kept me smiling. 15,000 sweaty, tortured-looking souls pounding pavement is definitely the worst parade ever!

I was running about 30-60 seconds ahead of my goal pace for the first couple miles, so I slowed up and to make sure I had energy to finish. I had a hard time gauging my pace by anything but my watch because there were so many runners, I spent the entire race passing and being passed. Every time I was passed, it crossed my mind that “Boy, I’m sure going slower than that person…” and when I passed people, the thought occurred to me “Wow! I’m going pretty fast!” These same thoughts came to me so often, that I took a second to reflect on how silly that was, but how natural. We tend to take everything personally. When others run fast/look cute/write well/cook gourmet, etc. we make it personal and think how we run slow/look frumpy/can’t write/cook poorly, etc. When the truth is that we are simply all different! In this race, everyone started at a different time, and finished at their own pace. And there are so many factors playing into that, it’s ridiculous to make any judgements about anyone else, or make one about myself based on anyone else. We need to allow others to have success without feeling it as our own failure. Likewise, we should be able to celebrate our own success without thinking others aren’t measuring up. That was my deep-thought of the race. I’m going to try to apply it to my everyday life.

Around mile 10, when I was still feeling okay, I decided to pick it up just a bit. At mile 11, I was still feeling good, but my hips were starting to feel a little loosey goosey (I think my ligaments are still affected from my pregnancy hormones), and at mile 12 I decided to get it over with! The last 1/2 mile of the race is down hill, and I really let go and let gravity carry me. I almost wanted to put my arms out like airplane wings and yell “wheeee!!” but thought that might look arrogant to those racers who were really hurting/walking towards that finish. I used that downhill momentum to fly past the line and complete the race.

I was adorned with my medal, grabbed a bottle of water, a bagel, two cups of peaches, two granola bars, three packs of trail mix, a piece of pizza and a purple powerade, then looked around for my family. No where to be found. After stretching, I went inside to get a free massage, and borrowed someone’s cell phone. I got ahold of Dave, who had missed me and was still waiting for me at the finish line! He caught up with me at the massage table, we took a photo, then headed back to my cousin’s house in Richmond to hug our boys.

And it was over. This goal that had seemed so big and a little crazy was all of the sudden accomplished. I have come full-circle in the last year, and I feel like a winner.

You know who else is a winner?