The Big Finish

With all the pressures and challenges of every day life, it's rare that I have a day that is completely satisfying, but today was one of those days. I just don't see how this day could have been any better. I had a 5K race this morning and did well (for me). I won second place in my age division and shaved a minute off my best time on that course. I was thrilled because the last race I ran was a disaster. It was a month ago, on a chilly damp Saturday morning. My allergies were out of control, my head was stopped up and Hubby tried to convince me I should stay home. I was mule stubborn as usual and went anyway. He was right. Three blocks into the race, I was literally gasping for breath and had to walk. I had myself a nice little asthma attack right there on the street. That had never happened to me before. I should have turned around and come home, but I have that "I Must Finish No Matter What" rule. It was painful and took me about six minutes longer than usual to get through the 3.1 miles. To make matters worse, my car key flew out of my shoe pocket during the first half of the race, and I had to walk part of the course AGAIN to look for my key. I came home frustrated and exhausted.

A trip to the allergist confirmed my suspicions about exercise induced asthma and provided me with an inhaler and new allergy medication. For the last few weeks I've been working through my breathing issues, afraid that my running times wouldn't get any faster. To say that running has been an exercise in frustration recently is an understatement. I wanted so badly to do better today. Mentally, I NEEDED to do better. I put on my "No Sniveling" hat, focused on sticking to my pace and ended with a great personal time. It felt good. Really, really good. But even better than that was the feeling of watching an acquaintance of mine run his first race today.

This fellow has had his share of struggles with food and weight for most of his life. He had gastric bypass surgery a couple of years ago, and is still trying to lose weight and make lifestyle changes. Recently, he began a walking group at his church. He has been adding a little running to his walking and wanted to give the race a try. Throughout the race he was behind me and kept falling farther and farther back. In fact, I was afraid he had quit when I waited for him at the finish line and didn't see him after a considerable amount of time. I had hoped to cheer him on as he entered the chute toward the finish line. I walked back up the course a little ways and finally saw him chugging along. My heart went out to him. I know what it's like to be at the very back of the pack. To know that everyone but you and a few stragglers crossed the finish line a long time ago. To want so badly to finish when you really feel like sitting on the curb and waiting for the next stretcher to pick you up. To feel like you probably don't belong out there with all of those "real" runners. To feel embarrassed that you are so slow. I waited for him and has he got closer I started to cheer for him. He smiled and jokingly shouted, "It's about finishing right?" "Yes! It's just about finishing," I yelled back. He looked so tired, and even though I was tired, I figured I could make it another quarter of a mile. I slid in beside him and started running with him. "You're almost there, you know. Just a little longer. You're going to make it, " I told him. "I'm praying I will," he joked. "I pray all the time when I run," I laughed. "Really?" "Sure. I need all the help I can get." We laughed some more. I shared with him that I always add David Crowder's version of I Saw The Light to the end of my iPod racing playlists because it always makes me run faster. Our little bit of conversation seemed to take his mind off his weariness. We inched closer toward the finish line, and I told him, "Come on, let's finish big." I started running faster and hollered, "Let's go!" He picked up speed and off we went. "Come on! Dig in! You're almost there! Go, go, go!" I kept going, and he kept picking them up and putting them down. I could hear the spectators start to yell and clap for him too as we got closer. "Into the chute, into the chute. Come on! You're here, you're here!! And with that, we crossed the line. His smile was a mile wide, and my heart felt so full. I gave him a big hug and knew in my heart he would not forget how it felt to cross that finish line for the first time. I've been there, too. For the second time during that race, I said a little prayer. This time it was thanking the good Lord for letting me witness my friend's big finish. I finished twice and won both times. What a day. What a great day.

My New Favorite Number

Well, there’s no backing out now. I sent in my registration for the Trail Run. Can you believe I’d pay $65 to torture myself? I don’t want to think about the amount of crazy in that decision. I bought the shoes (another $100) and have been breaking them in, and I blogged about it, so I’m committed right? The race is March 8th, and as that day inches closer, it’s all I can think about as I go about my daily business.

14.25 miles. I hear it in my ears. It pops up in my dreams. I think about it when I’m driving down the road and singing along with Fergie. 14. 25 miles. It bounces around in my brain when I’m taking a shower, cooking dinner and ironing clothes. 14.25 miles…..over dirt paths…up and down hills…dodging puddles and jumping over roots and rocks. March in Kentucky is unpredictable. It could be warm. It could snow. It could be wet and cool. It will definitely be muddy, and I will definitely get dirty. This is what one guy looked like when he finished two years ago.

Hmmm. I guess I shouldn’t count on my white shoes staying white. I’m trying not to be nervous about this thing, but I really am. I’ve thought about it so much that I’m ready to tackle it and get it over.…all 14.25 miles. Fourteen miles is nothing to a serious runner, but remember, I’m a pokey, 40-something woman who never ran for anything other than Italian Crème Cake until a year ago. I won’t be winning any medals next weekend. This race is all about beating myself.

Since I’m a Trail Run virgin I’ve tried to set realistic goals. Most importantly, I don’t want to fall and hurt myself. I’ve already taken one tumble this past year. I don’t need another. Besides, there are two to three miles between every aid station. That’s a long way to hobble. I want to run as much of the race as I can. I want to finish and to cross the finish line running. I’m guessing it will take me about three hours, but I’m not going to worry about time….much….I don’t think. At the end of the day I just want to be able to say that I ran my first half marathon…all 14.25 stinkin’ miles.

The other thing I’m looking forward to is being exposed to some seriously strong runners. This race also has a full marathon (26 miles), a 60K (36 miles) and a 50 mile run. 50 miles. That’s right. 50 miles. It will take them anywhere from seven to eleven hours to finish. I can’t imagine. I want to imagine, but I can’t. Therefore, I shall watch, and hopefully, get a little inspiration for the season. Oh, and did I mention that the average age of the runners is 42 years old? How about that? This race is for mature folks, most of who are like me, running from old age. Old age…the other thing that runs through my mind almost as much as that 14.25 miles.