Maybe it would have been better to do these smaller races (5Ks, 10Ks) after I had successfully completed my half-marathon. The half-marathon was my initial big goal, what pushed me headfirst into my journey to become a runner. Maybe if I had waited until I knew the thrill of successfully completing my half-marathon after all those months of hard work, it wouldn't matter so much where I place or how fast my time is in each of these 5Ks and 10Ks because I'd know what's really important. I needed these races for practice and I really enjoy racing them, but they mean different things to me than the bigger races and I think that training my attention on each of them is obfuscating my overall vision and inspiration for running in the first place.
It's a tough balance between wanting to do well and wanting to do well enough. Where is that fine line? They tell us it doesn't matter where you finish, as long as you went out there and ran. I want to believe that, but telling myself just isn't enough. If I don't perform as well as I know I'm capable of, how can I just not care? In my most recent 5Ks, I placed 17th and 13th in my age group, respectively. That's pretty darn good for a beginner. If, after even more training and growth, I went back and did another 5K and were to place 35th or 50th in my age group even though I tried my best, how could that not be disappointing? Once you see what you're capable of, how can you go back?
But doubt becomes exhausting, and as I chew on these questions and more in the days leading up to my first 10K, the questions in my mind have shifted in the other direction. What does it matter? What difference does it make? I mean, really. I'm just spinning my wheels when I obsess over times and placements and future races because, at the end of the day: I am where I am. That's it. I will train and I will try and whatever the result of that is, well: it is what it is.
Since I don't believe in vague platitudes as affirmation, let me try to explain better. It's exhausting worrying about other people's times, or learning the times of people I know and thinking, "wow, that's really fast, I can never be that good," or, "I could do that, right? I really hope I can beat that." I am not those people, and I never will be. It would be great to be as fast as the faster runners I know...but if I'm not, I'm not. Some people have been running since they were in grade school. Some people just have more innate ability. I have what I have. It's natural to feel competitive with your contemporaries, and to feel a little jealous of people who are just better than you. But really, isn't it kind of stupid to measure and compare myself against a different person, with a different body, and a different life?
It would be great if I could be really fast, too. I would love it if one day I could run a marathon in under 4:00, or a half marathon in under 2:00, or get an age group medal in a 10K. What runner wouldn't? Maybe I will one day. Or maybe I won't. Maybe I will just never be fast enough. And my biggest struggle as a runner is to get myself to a point where that's okay. I'll be honest, I'm still not there. I wonder if it's not actually harder work to get to that point mentally than it is to get my body fast enough to meet those goals.
And what if those things did happen? Then what? Well, I'd have a pretty medal. And some hella bragging rights. And I'd feel really good about myself. But in the end....it's really just one good race on one good day. No matter how good or bad you race, it's all over once you cross that finish line. Then everyone celebrates their accomplishment for a while, takes a moment to bask in euphoria or wallow in disappointment, and by the next day everyone has moved on with their lives.
I guess that's the hard thing about being an athlete or a performer. You pour all of your time and effort an energy into these big events, and in an instant, they're over. It's bittersweet for both winners and losers: if you did well, you can't make it last, if you did poorly, you can't get it back.
The running I do in between races has to mean something. It has to be worth it. There has to be a reason, beyond simply shaving a few minutes off an old race time, to lace up and hit the road. My journey to become a runner is centered around figuring out what that something "more" is. I know it's there, otherwise I would have quit already. For some people, it's because running builds strength in mind and body. For others, it's the satisfaction of watching yourself get better at something, of setting goals and achieving them, of going out and doing the one thing you didn't think you could do (like run a half marathon!!). And for some, it's simply because they enjoy running: they run for the runner's high, and the exercise, and the feeling of being healthy, and that's enough for them.
I think for me, my "something more" is a combination of all of those. I need to hone in on what exactly it is, because I need it. I need it to keep me in check when I start obsessing over beating old times and comparing myself to other runners. I need it so I remember how it felt to be a new runner, how happy I was just to be out there and setting goals for myself.
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| A quote in my "Run Pretty Far" calendar that I like. Like life, running is a journey and I want to make sure I do it right! |
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