This past weekend a group of us went to do the Moss Park Olympic Triathlon. This was my first tri of the season and actually my first since Timberman half ironman last year (August). Needless to say, I was a bit nervous about the race and especially since my training schedule did not allow for a taper. I ran 12 miles the day before the race. And that is where the story gets interesting. Saturday morning, after running with my Fit2Endure training group, I went out to check on my bees. Yes, I have bees and yes they make honey (they are bees afterall) and yes they are so cool and yes I am a dork--- that should answer most of the basic questions. Oh, and no I have not been stung before..... until Saturday. Therefore, I did not know that it hurt so darn bad or that I would indeed have a "gross local reaction." The stupid little booger got me right where the ankle and foot meet and my whole foot became red, painful and incredibly swollen. I got some professional advice and downed a bunch of benadryl, which I also did not know would absolutely knock me on my rear, and went to bed that night praying the swelling would reside and my foot would fit into my shoe for the race. Race morning: Did you know that if you do not take medicine and then takes lots of it, you will have a hangover the next day? I did not. Now, there was a time when I was perfectly capable of functioning through a hangover or an all-nighter or any number of similar scenarios. Now, I am old and, that is not the case. It was horrible! My foot was still swollen HUGE and my head was killing me and I could have lay down on the side of the road and just fallen asleep. Not the ideal way to feel on race morning. I wasn’t going to go through with it but I packed my stuff, just in case, and drove there with everyone and stood doubled over by the truck trying to control the vomitous sensations pulsing through my body. What to do? What to do? One of the girls suggested I set up transition and then decide when the gun goes off or just drop out if I felt bad. Hmmmmm…. Not a bad idea. I go to set up transition and what do ya know, my shoelace breaks. At this point, I know it must be God telling me to just stop while I am ahead and forget the stupid race. But my Mr. Fix-it husband rigged my shoe and pulled me down to the water just as they were lining up the guys. I still had no desire to get going and I was pondering what the people swimming behind me might think of me as they swam through my puke when I hear, “Ladies, 10-9-8-7…..Go!” Please know that at this point, I truly had no intention of starting the race. I was not in a good place mentally or physically and I knew disaster was foreboding. BUT I had exactly 10 seconds to react and adrenaline, or God, or practice, or whatever took over and I snapped my goggles in place and ran right into the water with the other girls before I even knew what I had done. STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!! You absolutely cannot turn around and go back to the start against a mass of kicking and punching women in the water. I was stuck and my heart was racing and I couldn’t breathe, but if I was going to even get back to the shore, I had to calm down and breathe. So, I slowed long enough to catch my breath, swallowed a mouthful of vomit, put my head down and just focused on finishing that first swim lap. And wouldn’t ya know… by the time I rounded the first lap, I decided to try the second one.
I came out of the water 17 minutes ahead of last year’s time and that was just the boost I needed to keep going. All the way to a 2:28:xx finish-- A huge PR and a really respectable time. I was stoked!!
Here’s the thing, though: I was so close to not even starting. I was so incredibly close to not racing and missing the opportunity to know I could overcome challenges and still put up a great race. I almost missed the opportunity to gain even more insight to myself, the opportunity to challenge myself and push just a little harder than I thought I could. I almost let myself quit. Whatever it was that made me throw on my goggles and race out into the water with a bunch of flailing women, I’m really glad because I learned a lot that day about myself. I also remembered why racing has so much application to life. I didn’t walk away with a trophy on Saturday (4th place, oh well) but I walked away with these lessons heavy on my heart….
· Go ahead and proceed like it’s going to happen, you can always stop and re-evaluate along the way.
· Don’t take too much time to think about it. 10 seconds is just enough time to take the plunge and deal with the punches as they come.
· There is always another gear. You just have to decide to pedal that hard.
· Keep your friends close. Who cares about your enemies? Only your friends can lift you over the big humps.
· When you think you can’t take another step, you always can. You have to dig into your own soul and coax that athlete out, but you really can do it.
Showing posts with label racing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label racing. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
My name is Becca and I have an addiction.
I think the hardest part of being an athlete is resting.
No, seriously.
Do you think I am kidding?!?!
The hardest part of this whole game is taking a little time off and letting the body recover. I know that my Couch 2 5K people might read that and think I am completely out of my mind, but it is absolutely true. Not in the beginning maybe, but over time it becomes a defining part of your day. You would never wake up and go about your day without brushing your teeth and putting on deodorant. It just wouldn't feel right. It is very hard for me to go a day without a workout.
Not every addiction requires treatment.
I know because I run!
Perhaps I am lucky that my drug of choice is running . Without a runner's high, the day drags and I feel crappy about myself and my body. My energy is not so high and I can be downright crabby. It's true, I promise..... ask my husband. A good run sets the whole day in motion. I mean, I accomplished a great task before the sun ever even hits the sky. I feel smart and vibrant and successful and, well, like WonderWoman pretty much. It's awesome!
Except, when it isn't. Except when the runs are going slower and the legs feel heavy and it's a chore, and maybe even it starts to hurt a bit. And that's when you know, you took it for granted. The gift of running. It's a hard balance. The balance between constant improvement and going further and faster and taking a day here and there to repair the body and enjoy just being still. It's hard when people compare mileage and times and goals to remember that those things are very individual and no two people can do the same thing.... nor should they. Sometimes, I think that's the hardest part of running but it's also one of the many life lessons that running has given me.
My schedule, my path, is mine. No one else owns the same destiny as me and no timetable is as perfect for me as the one I am on. What I view as successful may only be mediocre to someone else and as great as it is to work hard and have results, you have to slow down and be still or it all passes by before you even know it.
I tell my runners that it doesn't matter how hard you train if you hurt too bad to stand at the starting line. And I think that's todays lesson for me. It doesn't matter how much I pack my schedule and accomplish if I didn't enjoy it while it was happening.
Darn. This balanced life thing is so hard!
No, seriously.
Do you think I am kidding?!?!
The hardest part of this whole game is taking a little time off and letting the body recover. I know that my Couch 2 5K people might read that and think I am completely out of my mind, but it is absolutely true. Not in the beginning maybe, but over time it becomes a defining part of your day. You would never wake up and go about your day without brushing your teeth and putting on deodorant. It just wouldn't feel right. It is very hard for me to go a day without a workout.
Not every addiction requires treatment.
I know because I run!
Perhaps I am lucky that my drug of choice is running . Without a runner's high, the day drags and I feel crappy about myself and my body. My energy is not so high and I can be downright crabby. It's true, I promise..... ask my husband. A good run sets the whole day in motion. I mean, I accomplished a great task before the sun ever even hits the sky. I feel smart and vibrant and successful and, well, like WonderWoman pretty much. It's awesome!
Except, when it isn't. Except when the runs are going slower and the legs feel heavy and it's a chore, and maybe even it starts to hurt a bit. And that's when you know, you took it for granted. The gift of running. It's a hard balance. The balance between constant improvement and going further and faster and taking a day here and there to repair the body and enjoy just being still. It's hard when people compare mileage and times and goals to remember that those things are very individual and no two people can do the same thing.... nor should they. Sometimes, I think that's the hardest part of running but it's also one of the many life lessons that running has given me.
My schedule, my path, is mine. No one else owns the same destiny as me and no timetable is as perfect for me as the one I am on. What I view as successful may only be mediocre to someone else and as great as it is to work hard and have results, you have to slow down and be still or it all passes by before you even know it.
I tell my runners that it doesn't matter how hard you train if you hurt too bad to stand at the starting line. And I think that's todays lesson for me. It doesn't matter how much I pack my schedule and accomplish if I didn't enjoy it while it was happening.
Darn. This balanced life thing is so hard!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Take that!!!
It has been 9 months since I raced a race for me. I have paced some athletes to the finish line and just run a few races because it's fun to run them. But I have not stated a race goal and set out to achieve it in nearly a year. So, May 9th I will be targeting the Mayfaire 5K here in Lakeland with a goal of 21:xx.... Gulp! There. It's out on the interwebs for everyone to see. Now, I can begin to fret.
I hate racing. I hate setting a race goal because I know full-well that doing so means that there is a very, very good possibility that I could fail. And a 5K is even worse! In a marathon or half-iron distance tri you can make lots of excuses--- a bad stomach, dehydration, hitting the proverbial wall. Not so much with a 5K. A race goal is very important because it gives the runner a measure by which to determine how their training is going. It provides information about the training plan, the diet, the pacing, all sorts of stuff. Sounds useful, huh? Yet, this "useful tool" looms over me like the boogie man who used to sleep under my bed. As a kid, I would stand on the bed and literally leap through the door to the hall so his grimey, slimey fingers couldn't wrap around my ankle and pull me down. I would lie there in the darkness and think up tireless escape plans should he one day yank me into the dark cave. Just the same, my mind is whirring with ways to tweak my training or squeeze in a few more miles or even break my leg so I don't have to race (God help me, I am a sick, sick individual).
One of my athletes, Nicole, emails me periodically in an absolute panic. "I can't do this..... there's no way.... why did I sign up for this?...." I always laugh to myself and think, "Silly Nicole! Believe in the plan; just believe." But here I am with the exact same self-doubt building in my throat as the day gets closer and closer. And the reality of the situation is that it doesn't even matter what the race time turns out to be! How self-absorbed of me to think for one second that posting a time less than my stated goal will matter one teensy. little. bit (Thank you Betsy for pointing that out :P ). What matters is that I was brave enough to set the goal, that I toe the line on race morning and allow myself to measure up and see how well I am doing. What matters is that I run hard as hell and walk away knowing how I can improve. Because the truth is that failure can drive you to greatness or it can grab your ankle and pull you under, just like the boogie man.
So May 9th, I will be at the start line and I will give the boogie man the finger because gosh darn it I'm going for it! 100%.... all out.... fully knowing that I just might fail!
I guess I should admit, then, that my real goal is sub-21 minutes. Since we're being honest and fearless and all like that....
I hate racing. I hate setting a race goal because I know full-well that doing so means that there is a very, very good possibility that I could fail. And a 5K is even worse! In a marathon or half-iron distance tri you can make lots of excuses--- a bad stomach, dehydration, hitting the proverbial wall. Not so much with a 5K. A race goal is very important because it gives the runner a measure by which to determine how their training is going. It provides information about the training plan, the diet, the pacing, all sorts of stuff. Sounds useful, huh? Yet, this "useful tool" looms over me like the boogie man who used to sleep under my bed. As a kid, I would stand on the bed and literally leap through the door to the hall so his grimey, slimey fingers couldn't wrap around my ankle and pull me down. I would lie there in the darkness and think up tireless escape plans should he one day yank me into the dark cave. Just the same, my mind is whirring with ways to tweak my training or squeeze in a few more miles or even break my leg so I don't have to race (God help me, I am a sick, sick individual).
One of my athletes, Nicole, emails me periodically in an absolute panic. "I can't do this..... there's no way.... why did I sign up for this?...." I always laugh to myself and think, "Silly Nicole! Believe in the plan; just believe." But here I am with the exact same self-doubt building in my throat as the day gets closer and closer. And the reality of the situation is that it doesn't even matter what the race time turns out to be! How self-absorbed of me to think for one second that posting a time less than my stated goal will matter one teensy. little. bit (Thank you Betsy for pointing that out :P ). What matters is that I was brave enough to set the goal, that I toe the line on race morning and allow myself to measure up and see how well I am doing. What matters is that I run hard as hell and walk away knowing how I can improve. Because the truth is that failure can drive you to greatness or it can grab your ankle and pull you under, just like the boogie man.
So May 9th, I will be at the start line and I will give the boogie man the finger because gosh darn it I'm going for it! 100%.... all out.... fully knowing that I just might fail!
I guess I should admit, then, that my real goal is sub-21 minutes. Since we're being honest and fearless and all like that....
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