Queen Ann, Maryland
I haven’t always been a runner. In fact, it’s only since about a year after the birth of my youngest that I even started “enjoying” the sport. Back in middle and high school I was notorious for procrastinating on getting my preseason physical for field hockey, so I would have to simply run laps at a few preseason practices. I hated it. I never got a runners high, it never really got easier. I would drive down the road and feel pity for those fools running along with looks of pain and misery etched on their faces. Why?!
In college I had a transient phase of running, but I was also a smoker at the time, so you can imagine how well that went. I felt like I was doing big things when I ran over 2 miles. Looking back, I can say I found at least a little joy in running at that time, but it wasn’t enough to keep me in the thick of it. Fast forward through nursing school, dating, marriage, a new career, and the birth of 5 children and you’ll see how something so beneficial fell to the bottom of my list. It wasn’t until I found myself still wearing maternity clothes while my baby was passing the 5-month mark that I decided to make a change. Running wasn’t the goal, but it got me to a goal, and then it kinda stuck around.
I never ran a 5K. The first race I signed up for was a half marathon. Go big, right? I trained consistently from the fall of 2019 into the spring of 2020. The race was scheduled for March of that year. Remember what happened in March of 2020? Yea, I’m still trying to forget, too. So, the race was obviously cancelled. I still ran the full distance on the scheduled date, just instead of downtown Salisbury where I was supposed to put in 13.1 miles, I ran 3 loops around my trusty ol’ Bob Trail at Trap Pond. No aid stations, no fellow runners, no ceremonious finish line. My parents were there to cheer me on and capture my triumphant finale, though! I still earned that mailed finisher medal!
The only logical follow up to a half marathon would be a marathon, right? Well, maybe logically, but not realistically. So, I moved on to just one tiny step up and signed up for a 25k. And the one I went for was a gem. 15.5 miles on diverse, beautiful, crisp, rooty single track along the punchy Tuckahoe creek. I didn’t break any records on that run, I certainly didn’t place notably well, but I finished it and fell in love with the venue. I fell in love enough to have still never raced a further distance, and to sign up for this race not once, not twice, but now for a fifth time. Every year when I cross the finish line, I’ve said it was the last year I was going to run it, and every January I’m one of the first to sign up. So, here I am again, ready (ish) for round five.
The only thing different about this year is the amount of friends I’ve convinced to join me on the trails. Seven friends of mine are toeing the line this year, and I can honestly say, every single one of them is going to cross the finish line before me. Part of me is excited to cheer them all on, because they’re all great athletes, but the other part is regretting it. I’ve watched them all train and I’ve trained alongside them occasionally. We each have had our own individual approaches to how much and how hard we have been willing to push ourselves. I know I’ve put in a moderate amount of effort, but I’ve had a near constant feeling of being inadequate since discussing anything related to this race with them. Comparison is the thief of joy. Cliche, but man. There is truth in those words. I don’t think I’ve done anything drastically different in comparison to years in the past, but I have an overwhelming feeling I’m going to be pitiful this year. I know I’ll finish the race, but the joy and excitement I usually feel around this time is completely missing. For the first time in my repeated running of this race, I’m comparing myself and my abilities to others. And it’s ruining it.
Like I said, the trails are beautiful, the ambiance is fun, the pain is grounding, and the finish line is emotional. It’s all worth it. I’m going to show up on Saturday morning, bright and early, and run my race. I’m going to wish all my friends a speedy and fantastic race, and I’m going to run my race. I’m going to look up as much as I can between roots and rocks, twists and turns, bridges and creeks, and I’m going to run my race. I’m going to breathe in the crisp fall air, chat with the other runners I’ll fall in line with, and I’m going to run my race. And when I cross the finish line, no matter what the clicking clock says to my right, I will have ran my own race. Hopefully, I’ll look back at this downtrodden pre race pouting I’ve been doing and shake my head at its ridiculousness. Hopefully, I’ll be sitting at a computer on January first at 6:59pm with my mouse hovering over the “sign up” button. Hopefully, I’ll run my own race again next year.