A Special Kind of Crazy

Now that the race is over, I have spent a few days thinking about my running.  I went into this race with a pretty healthy attitude.  It would be very typical for me to over-train, agonize about performance and psych myself out mentally and physically, but honestly, I didn't do any of that.  My life kept me from over-training.  The demands of work, and especially of having two young children, really made it impossible for me to run the long runs (10, 11 miles) more than once a week.  I averaged one long run, two medium runs (5-8 miles) and one or two short runs (2-4 miles) every week for about 6 weeks prior to the race.  Because of my time limitations, I started taking advantage of the shorter runs for speed work, something I previously neglected.  I used to think that if I didn't have time for tons of miles, then it wasn't worth the energy to get dressed and get moving.  With the race upon me, I took advantage of my free time, but I didn't over-do it.  If I hadn't signed up for the race, I would probably still be doing the same old running routine.  I needed a tangible goal to break my old habits.

I used to always tell people that I didn't race because I'm not competitive.  That's the truth.  I never felt the need to compete in a race.  Running has always been for me, and me alone.  I never felt like I had to prove anything to anyone, or that I needed a medal to validate my sport.  After having run the race, those thoughts still ring true.  I don't feel the need to win anything.  But after having run the half marathon, I have an additional perspective on races:  Maybe racing isn't all about winning, or running against the other runners.  I didn't care much about those other runners at all.  I ran to prove to myself that I could do it,  to track my own abilities, to push my own limits.  Sure, it was nice to know that I didn't finish last, but even if I had finished last, it would have given me something to work on for the next race - to finish second to last!  The race was about competing against myself, and when it comes to pretty much anything, I am my own worst rival!

I have given a lot of thought over what I want to do with my runs at this point.  I keep thinking that I should probably scale back just a little and give my body a bit of a break.  But I am going to run a 15K in July, and I plan to run a local half marathon in October, so I don't want to cut back too much.  Then there's that little bit of running addiction that comes into play.  I'm not the only one who has it.  The more I talk to people, the more addicts I find.  My neighbor told me that when she ran her first marathon, she told someone it was her first race and their response was, "It won't be your last."  Poignant statement!  I have many friends who race all the time, despite the agony that it can sometimes cause.  Non-runners hear about the pain and think that runners are nuts.  We are.  It's a special kind of crazy. 

The night of the race, when Greg and I were talking, I tried to convince him to train to run with me for next year's half-marathon.  He said he would consider it, but he also said that he was surprised that I wanted to run again after my post-race stomach issues.  He likened it to purposefully drinking sour milk.  Well, he has a point, but not totally.  First of all, I never got that sick before, and the probablitity of it happening again are slim.  I should have eaten more right away.  There are tricks to dealing with a runner's gut, and I stupidly didn't employ them.  Secondly, I don't always have digestive issues following runs. Besides, the thrill of the race both before and after were totally worth thinking that I might be bleeding internally for a few hours!  Come on, runners!  Back me up here!

So, now that I have acknowledged that special kind of runner's craze in my spirit, what do I do with it?  When I was about 10 miles into the half marathon, I was wet and tired and I thought, "There's no way I would ever run a whole marathon.  That's just a ridiculous amount of miles.  Why would anyone put themselves through that agony?"  In fact, when I finished the race, I talked to Greg and my friends about racing and running in general and I said it again, "I had a good time during the half, but I'm satisfied.  No need to run a full."  Then, when I was sick as a dog, bleeding at McDonald's, I knew I would never run a full marathon.  On Sunday I was plenty proud and pleased with my performance.  I was satisfied with the half...

But then Monday came around, and a crazy little voice whispered to me, "Maybe you could run a full marathon some day."   And you know what?  I didn't think that was such a crazy thought after all.