In truth, I've not been in training mode of late. I've been running without my GPS and from my heart more than from my head. After the stress of this summer, running has taken on an adjusted role in my life. I'm not running against the clock or with a specific plan; I'm running for me and for my mental health.
Bearing this in mind, I should not have even considered trying to break last year's time. But I did. I know that I'm a stronger, faster, and better runner now than I was 12 months ago, and I wanted my race time as hard-and-fast evidence of it. Alas, I finished the race 2 seconds slower than last year, proving that I am nothing if not consistent.
I should be elated! Without really training, I ran the course as well as last year when I did, in fact, train steadily for it. I finished in the top 40% overall, top 25% of women, and the top 32% of my age group. I laced up my shoes and traveled from the starting line to the finish line, which is certainly an accomplishment in and of itself. And seriously, Kate, 2 seconds? Definitely not worth hemming and hawing about.
But I keep beating myself up over it because I could have run better. I took a walk break right near the end. I didn't want to stop, but my brain seemed to have no control over my legs - or my bladder, for that matter. Holy urinary incontinence, batman! I've never battled with my bladder so much on a run. I don't feel like I drank an excessive amount before the race, but something was surely different.
Bladder aside, I know I should hold my head up and be proud of what I accomplished. I crossed the finish line to the cheering of my sweet kids, and then I got to cross it a second time with my son when he finished the 1-mile kids race.
I need to look at it through my children's eyes. The whole time I ran with Mr. D, he kept shouting that we were going to win and that "the finish line is so close! We can do it, Mommy!" The look of joy on his face when he crossed the line was priceless. And J-Bug, who proclaimed that her 2.5-year-old legs were not long enough to run that far, ran as much as she could and said she was "doing it just like Mommy!"
They were proud of me, and I should be, too.
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| Finishing out the fun run with Mr. D, age 4. |
