Whew! This past month has been busy, and extremely “Race-Heavy”. As per usual my enthusiasm got the best of me, and I have found myself slightly over-extended this month. The Goodlife Half Marathon was going to be my fourth race event in the same amount of weeks. I went into this weekend with every intension of racing .
But the more the week progressed the more I started to re-evaluate my plan. Between Harry's, the Yonge Street 10km, and my personal 61km triathlon my body has taken a serious beating over the last month. And my training has not been as focused. I started questioning if racing this weekend and expecting a sub-2 result was really the right thing for my head and for my body.
I have spent a lot of 2014 focusing on time and my race results. I lost my mojo after my tough 10km result a few weeks back, and I found myself questioning my ability. Running has long been a way to honour my body. The physical expression of strength has always been a necessary reminder of my spirits’ ability to endure. It is how I reclaim my health and regain my strength. Running has always been my place of balance, solace, and serenity. But I found myself losing my joy.
I lined up at the start line on Sunday morning feeling conflicted. Part of me longed for sub-2 finish and new half marathon PR. And the other part of me just wanted to enjoy the run, remove the pressure, and remember how far I have come. To be honest I was still conflicted when the gun went off. But as I weaved my way down Yonge street with the mass of people I found myself reflecting on the past year.
Last year I ran this event with the one and only Pavement Runner just 12 weeks post-op from my 6th surgery, and my 3rd in just 11 short month. I actually ran my slowest half marathon 2:19:30 that day, but I loved every second of it. Because it wasn’t about time, it was about celebrating my health. It was about celebrating the journey. It was about thanking my body for carrying me through all of that, and a half marathon.
Before I knew it I was 7km in, and I had made my decision. I would run strong, but I wouldn’t race. I would take time to high-five spectators. I would walk through the water stations and thank volunteers. And I would cruise across the finish-line smiling with lots of gas in the tank at 2:05:41. It was not a PR. It was not sub-2. But I needed this result more.
I run to be happy, healthy, and strong. And I needed Sunday’s race to remind me of that. Sunday helped me find my mojo again.
Love Your Favourite Darwinian Fail,