I wasn’t really concerned about the suffering. I can suffer physically. In hindsight I was worried that I would discover that I just can’t do this anymore, that my body isn’t as resilient as it used to be, as I hoped to be, as I want to be night now. In my heart, I believe that if I train smart, eat well, and believe in myself that some of my best races may still be before more. Yet, I was afraid a 5k was going to show me that my years of achilles injury took away my chance to achieve new bests. I was afraid that a fast pace would blow up my achilles again.. I was afraid that the minor hills in this race would be too much for me. I was afraid that there would be nothing I could do because I am already doing everything I can do to get back to running. Race Day Routine and Night Races. Most races and most of my training happens first thing in the morning. But the President’s Cup 5k is an 8:00 pm night race in the summer (thunderstorm season). Bad storms were predicted all day. I ran 7 miles with Sid during clear window in the morning in case the race was canceled like it seemed like it would be. I spent too much energy wondering if the race was on. I intermittently clicked on the race website throughout the day, hoping to see that the race was, in fact, cancelled so I could stop looking to see if it was cancelled. Had this not been my first 5k in years, I would have simply checked the status before leaving but this was different. I felt like I was planning to walk into a fire and I didn't know if I was hoping for a cancellation or to get it over with. As soon as I arrived at the race at 6:30 pm, thunder clapped loudly and the sky dumped rain. I sat in my car wondering still if this thing was really happening. Then it cleared. Running a warm up felt imperative. It felt protective. It felt like the only thing I could realistically do to help my body function safely. Sid was planning to run a warm up with me, but as we headed off to do that his back suddenly spasmed and we walked to get my bib. I thought I had time to run. About 20 minutes later, while we were back at the car Dave arrived and we walked back to get his bib. I thought I had enough time. Spontaneous socializing along the way took time some more time. Suddenly I look at my watch we have 30 minutes until gun time. I had not run a step, I would still need time to use the bathroom. So much for protecting myself! I have not idea why I didn't prioritize my needs. This just highlighted for me how out of practice I am when it comes to racing. Having a solid, reliable, automated pre-race routine is very important to my performance. I didn't have that dialed in this time, I know this is something I need to work on for more important races in the future. Standing on that starting line while trying to visualize the finish felt like a version of Schrodinger’s Cat. I was both strong and weak in my mind. Failing and Succeeding. Dead and Alive. I wouldn't know until I observed the result. Both versions felt equally likely. I didn't like those odds. I didn’t want to set back again. But I needed to see where I stood.
And we’re Off… Without any real data to set a goal pace, I run by feel. Yet somehow decided I wouldn't be truly happy unless I saw a sub-7 average pace. Why? I have no idea. I get up to “cruising altitude” where my breathing starts to get heavy and unsustainable. I pump the breaks until I find a rhythm I believe I can hold for 3M and still have a kick. I know the course. Two laps, We get to run the hills twice. The hills aren't major hills but they scared more than the speed. I look at my watch as we reach the first mile. M1- 6:47. "Ok, I am doing this.... just stay in control" I was really pleased with mile 1! Once over one hill and still holding a sub-7, I could feel my confidence returning. I knew mile 2 was flat but that mile 3 would have the final hill. I was trying to count women during the out and back but since the turn around is really a large circular school driveway with trees obscuring the full view, I could not successfully count my place. This was for the best. I counted 4 women before I made the turn, and 4 women in my view in front of me. I was at least in 9th Once we pop put of the circular driveway we hit mile 2. M2 - 6:49 I am grateful we have only 1 mile left. I feel ready for that hill. I am moving well. I am holding my pace. I am catching and passing the women I could see. We crest the hill and I can feel I have a kick waiting. I am trying to decide when to push. I see a woman ahead. If move now I have time to catch her. I tell myself “You only saw 4 women the out and back before the turnaround and you passed all those you saw in front you at that turn…. so if you pass her maybe you can take 5th place… there is a chance” and I push. If I had a chance for 5th I wanted it, Just before the mile 3 mark, I open up my stride. I drive my arms. I drop my pace. M3: 6:51 Still holding on with another gear to tap into! And in that moment, when I was finally racing again, I forget all about my fear. I was finally free. Free of 2+ years of pain. Free of 2+ years of set backs. I felt a live. I felt like myself again. Last .1 = 6:14 pace. I was NOT 5th, but it didn’t matter. Visualizing that I could have been inspired me to work hard to not let it slip away. I don’t think I would have kicked so hard at the end if I knew I was fighting to hold on to 12th. My placement doesn’t matter. What matters is I won my battle and I felt like a champion for just a few moments. Stats: Time 21:12 Pace: 6:48 Place OA-Female - 12 Place AG -1
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Shannon McGinn, JD, MS, MA, EDS, NBC-HWC, ATR-BC, LPAT.
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