Riding That Runner's High

I won the race -- metaphorically, of course.

I’m going to cut right to the chase: Last Sunday’s race was the kind dreams are made of. It was everything I wanted it to be and much, much more.

That’s not to say it was perfect. It was cooler than I hoped. I worried that my short-sleeve shirt was a bad choice from the moment I left my house until I hit mile 1 about 2.5 hours later. It was a bit misty. My phone went on SOS mode so I couldn’t properly load my music until a half mile in. My nutrition plan didn’t go as planned. It was nothing big, but sometimes those little things can add up. Not today, my friend.

I drove down with a friend (fantastic choice) and we talked, as runners are apt to do, about running, paces, expectations for the race. At one point, he said to me, “I think we can all run faster than we think.” That little comment stuck with me. What if I could run this race faster than I had planned? 

Walking to the start line.

Typically in a race with 40,000 of your best friends, the first mile is slow. People are finding their pace. You’re all crammed together, playing a real-life game of Frogger. That was not the case this time. When I hit mile 1, I thought to myself, I think I’m running faster than I planned. But I wasn’t entirely sure. I don’t actually check my splits when I run, which is either idiotic or brilliant depending on who you talk to. And since you don’t start the race at 00:00 on the display clocks, you’re trying to remember what you saw at mile 3 when you hit mile 4. I could neither remember nor do the math.

So I just went with it. I knew I was pushing it, but I felt good. I trusted my training, my body, and I went for it.

The first 6 miles flew by, the next two had me questioning things and by mile 8, I was ready to get to mile 10. But I held the pace. 

If you don’t take a finish line photo, did you even run the race?

When I crossed the finish line, I had absolutely no idea what my time was. I got my medal, a water and heat blanket and checked my phone. I had a bunch of messages — some from friends wishing me good luck, one from a friend who was tracking me and sending fire emojis (ILYSM), and one from Andrew saying congrats. “What’s my time” I wrote back? 1:24:19. Not only did I beat my supposed goal time of 1:30. I beat my last Broad Street Run by 1 minute, 31 seconds. 

True confession: When I wrote my blog last week, I wasn’t entirely honest. I said my goal time was 1 hour, 30 minutes. But I had originally written a sentence that said I wanted to beat that time from 2021, but deleted it. It felt out of reach. I couldn’t bring myself to say that was my goal, even though I desperately wanted to come close to it. I’m such an ass. First, who cares if I didn’t beat it? Second, I DID.

Why do we underestimate ourselves so easily? Is it a fear of failure? A fear of success? A lack of self-confidence? A fear of seeming arrogant? 

I don’t know why I do it. I’m sure I would need hours (years) of therapy to truly figure that out. But after this race, I am more than willing to admit two things: I’m stronger than I think I am. And I can run fast. I think it’s time I got comfortable with those two things.

So what’s next? Wine. Then more races. I am always in awe of the running community. People – different shapes, sizes, paces, backgrounds, ethnicities – coming together to achieve a common goal. The kindness runners extend to each other on race day is unparalleled. (Big shout out to the woman who, unsolicited, gave me a sanitizing hand wipe in the porta-potty line.) It’s the kind of energy I want in my life. 

I’ve also started to think about setting loftier goals for myself. Could I run an 8-minute pace for a 5K? I think so. Sub-8-minute miles? Who knows. But it’s time I try.

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Below is what I got me through race day. Maybe it will motivate you to sign up for a race. I always think having the right outfit is the first step to doing anything, but hey, you do you.