In high school, I would often stand on the starting line with a feeling of impending doom and a stomach full of nerves and nausea. I placed irrational amounts of pressure to perform on my tiny shoulders, and it often weighed me down as I slogged through the last mile of a 5K. I loved running, but I hated racing. Something about the competition made me turn up my nose. I always want to be the best I can be, but if I had to beat someone else to do it, I usually choked and just let them win. Not that I have a kick anyway, but I notoriously backed down in almost every sprint to the finish. I always took the path of least resistance; unless I felt perfect the entire race, I couldn't keep the fight in my legs.
I can vividly remember the race where I ran my PR in high school. It was a gloomy morning at Polk Community College, and I arrived at the race extremely anxious because we were running late after my mom took a wrong turn on the way. I somehow settled down for the race, and sang "Better Together" by Jack Johnson in my head as I zipped through the clay-laden course. I ran 21:18, and was absolutely beaming afterwards.
Looking back, I realize that I race best when I'm completely relaxed. Heck, I race best when I simply don't care about how I perform. Carefree and expectation-free racing is my new approach, and it's starting to work. Instead of worrying about racing and pacing, I just do it. I let the race come to me, and embrace the pain that follows. The past few times I've raced this semester, I toed the line with a smile on my face and ambition in my heart. It really is infinitely better.
So last Sunday, I ran the Women's Half Marathon in St Petersburg. The weather was lukewarm and pleasant, and, as the name implies, women were everywhere, mostly buzzing with excitement about their first half-marathon or about their matching pink shirts. I stepped to my spot in the first corral, pushing any goals for the race aside and instead watching the sun rise over the gulf. I saw the eventual winner walk up to the line, stretching her legs and babbling about running the NYC marathon a few weeks ago and the Miami Man triathlon the week before. What a beast.
When the gun went off, I found myself in front with 6 other girls and the car with the clock in view. I remember thinking about how I've never seen the pace car, and it somehow made me even more excited to be in front. I ran with a girl named Christina for the first 6 or so miles, and she told me to keep an eye on the girl in blue in front of us; her form was deteriorating and we would soon catch her. So then it was the 3 of us. I was still running 6:30's by mile 7, and still feeling pretty good.
Once the course doubled back upon itself, we passed the slower runners/walkers going in the other direction. They clapped and cheered us on, shouting words of encouragement and whooping a little. I remember one girl saying "Holy sh** girl, you're running fast!" I cracked a huge smile and laughed a little. I passed my parents as I headed out to the loop on the pier, and hearing their cheers put more spring in my step and confidence on my shoulders. By the time we rounded the pier, I led the pack of 3 women and gave my family high five's as I galloped by.
Going into mile 9, there was just me and the girl and blue. I was motivated for 2 reasons: 1. I DID NOT want to be 6th instead of 5th, and 2. this was the first time I had actually raced someone in the HM, and I was feeling awesome. I decided I needed to lose her as fast as possible, so I picked up the pace at mile 10 and never looked back.
I succeeded in losing her, but I was beginning to feel the sub-7 pace destroying my legs. I desperately wanted the race to be over, but I kept telling myself that all I had to do was hold the pace. I started singing in my head for motivation ("girl look at that body.....girl look at that body....girl look at that body...I work out!) Anyways it worked, and before I knew it I was crossing the finish line with a grimace-smile on my face. 1:28:45. Unbelievable. I never in my wildest dreams thought that I could have a race like that...considering I ran the same pace for some of my high school cross country races. Crazy stuff.
Racing can be fun, and racing is so much better without the baggage of expectations or lofty goals. It's all about just toeing the line and letting it fly.
