On My First Race Win, and the Importance of Showing Up Rain or Shine
I’ve never thought of myself as a competitive athlete. In fact, I don’t know that I’ve ever won anything more athletic than a round of mini golf. Even if you go back to my school days, I’m quite certain I never even came in first in a gym class scrimmage (if I even got so far as to be picked for a team). If you ask most my friends, they would tell you I’m athletic; that I work out a lot, maybe even that I’m fast. But I’ve never competed with anyone but myself. On Saturday I changed all of that. I won my first race!
It was a small race, mind you. In something like the Cherry Blossom, my finishing time would have put me middle of the pack. It was about 90 seconds slower than my own fastest 10-mile time (although seven minutes faster than I ran this same course last year). The point is, of the women who showed up to run the Georgetown 10-miler in the freezing rain on Saturday, I was the fastest, and that was a pretty cool feeling.
I actually considered not showing up. The weather was forecast to be in the low forties with a mix of rain and show, and I’d been fighting off a cold all week. I was already signed up for a second 10 mile leg on Sunday anyways (it’s a two day challenge, you can sign up for both or just one), so why not just run the day that was forecast to be beautiful and sunny? The thing is, I’ve never been a believer in only showing up when it’s sunny.
All of this is a metaphor for my take on life, really. You can’t win if you don’t show up. Whether it’s a once in a lifetime experience, an amazing job opportunity, meeting your next best friend or your future spouse: putting yourself out there doesn’t mean it’s going to happen, but I can with 100% certainly guarantee that it won’t happen if you don’t. I’m also a believer that if you say you’re going to do something, you should do it – regardless of whether the conditions are ideal. It’s important to show up, rain or shine.
Anyways, back to the race. When we arrived, I actually thought we’d won the weather lottery. The sun was out and the rain had stopped. I started at the front of the pack and maintained a steady clip. But less than a mile in the rain started back up, and next it turned into a sideways sleet. We were dodging puddles and the dirt path was turning to mud. I won’t say that I wasn’t checking for a pony tail whenever a runner passed me, because that would be a lie. I was thinking about the prospect of winning early on, but I also knew that ten miles was a long way to maintain my speed, and that a lot could happen. Around mile three or four a woman approached on my left and I thought, well that was fun while it lasted… maybe I can still get second or third! But then I realized I’d settled to comfortable pace – maybe at 60% – and I pushed the gas enough to maintain the lead. I’m bad at measuring distance, but at the turn around I could see #2 was still fairly close behind me. I was going to have to maintain this pace, and I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to do that.
Luckily, something happened on the way back to give me a shot of energy. The oncoming runners started cheering for me. They were giving me thumbs up and high fives and holding one finger in the air and mouthing “you’re number one!” This was enough to motivate me to pick up my speed somewhat significantly. I was also feeling the pressure: I had their confidence – I couldn’t lose now!
I was pushing it with all I had, but I was getting tired. It’s a flat course, but I’m not used to trail running. I tried not to look behind me (is looking behind you in a race bad etiquette? Does it make you a poor sport?). At one point I said to myself, “if my mom can learn to walk all over again, I can win this damn race.” And as I maintained a steady lead as I passed mile seven, and then mile eight and finally mile nine, I realized that I was going to. I sprinted the end with everything left in the tank, and pumped my fist as I crossed the finish line at 1:18:43. Although I’ve only ever felt competitive with myself in running, this was meaningful to me because it was something I thought I’d never do, and something I may very well never do again.
From there it was anticlimactic. I very quickly collected a banana, a t-shirt, a medal and my prize (a gift certificate that I’m pretty sure was less than the race registration), snapped a quick photo, and quickly headed to the comfort of the heated seats in our car. Next I headed to the spa at our gym, where I soaked in the hot tub massaging my aching calves, while trying not to think about the fact that I had to run it again in less than 24 hours. Then I refueled with girl talk, a Bloody Mary and steak.
As sore as I was, I went back out there Sunday to run the second leg of the Georgetown 10-Miler 2-day Challenge, my third 10-miler in seven days. I could have easily said, “I already won one race this weekend, why not just go to brunch?” But that wasn’t what I’d signed myself up for. Although chilly, it was a much more beautiful day. I knew I would run a much slower race, and was a-okay with that; although painful, it was a lot less pressure, really. On Saturday, I ran it to win, and it took it all out of me. On Sunday, I just ran it to finish – competing only with my aching legs, and finishing a full 10 minutes slower (1:28:31/8:50mm vs 1:18:43/7:53m*). But both days I gave in my all, and the first step was showing up, rain or shine.
(*For reference, last year I ran it in 1:25:35 on day one and 1:26:27 on day two, slower but more consistent)
