Sunday, November 9, 2008

Racing Myself


I feel somewhat silly being all sentimental about “lessons” in a short 5K, but that’s just how it goes!

To give you a little background, I hate running. For me, running is just too hard. I can never breathe and my muscles continually feel like they’re going to lock up and die. The worst part is when I stop running for a week my lungs and legs somehow ‘forget’ how to run.


I hate running so much that I’ve become obsessed with it. It’s a bitter competition I have with myself. Nothing else counts when I run; it’s me, the pavement and the always-there option to quit. Running is a tough path where the truth seems to always come out. “I can’t do this,” I tell myself.


Time is against me. My lungs are against me. My physical condition is against me. The question is if I will choose to push through and run anyway- if I will run in spite of everything against me and succeed.

______________________


7:08p.m. Friday night I’m fighting to keep pace with a pack somewhere in the middle of 1,200 runners flooding the streets of historic Ybor city. I’m 1-mile into a 3.2 mile race. My boyfriend and friend are far ahead of me by now and I’m just the girl jogging with her inhaler. Thoughts began to fill my head: you didn’t train enough; you are too far above your normal weight; if you’re struggling with this, how are you going to do a 10K later this month?


I manage a comfortable pace. I’m over 2-miles in now. In the midst of telling myself I can’t do it I take stock of the situation. My breathing has steadied. The pain in my legs has gone away. The cramp in my side isn’t so bad. I realize that at this point the only thing keeping me from dashing to the finish line is myself.


At mile 3 I do quick math and realize that at this rate, despite my struggling, I’m not going to beat my previous 5K time. My jog slows and my head falls down. Then I hear David’s voice as he’s jogging up next to me. He had already completed the race and came back to push me the last bit.


I run through the finish-line and smack into his sweaty arms. I beat my PR by almost three minutes. Even though I believed deep down that I am not a runner and I could not run faster, I beat my time. I love running.

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