The flower that blooms in adversity is the most beautiful of all. -Disney's Mulan
So, I watched an entire track meet yesterday. Not running, as I've said before isn't really all that bad because I can replace it with unfortunately intense spinning and swimming workouts. By the time practice starts, I already feel so accomplished that watching my teammates go out on a 45 minute run, doesn't really phase me because of the 90 minutes of biking/swimming that I just did. But at a track meet it's different. I usually don't have time to work out on those days because indoor track meets are so long. And there I'm slapped in the face with watching all of this success that I can't have anymore. I can't help but to put my times into all of the races and try to figure out how I would have finished. And I can't help but to be both jealous and sad.
I am trying, however to make sure that I don't show that. I'm also pretty sure that being jealous and sad when watching my teammates compete is not really the kind of emotion that I should be having. So, I just make sure to cheer extra loud for them and give them all hugs when they're done. Don't get me wrong, I am so very proud of them and on a Saturday morning, besides going on a run myself, there is nothing in the world I would rather be doing than cheering for my teammates. It's just a strange feeling to be so happy and yet so sad at the same time. I was the only distance junkie out of all of the girls on my team. Luckily watching someone run an 800 or even a mile doesn't really make me to terribly upset. And also because none of the girls on my team are running the longer events, I have a good excuse to slip away when the 5k or 3k starts. Watching those races, for me is like watching a really bad movie. You don't really want to be watching it, and you'll ask yourself why you did later, but at the same time it captures your attention and your eyes are glued to it.
Not racing has, given me a different way of looking at a race. It changes your perspective when you have to be on the outside looking in on things. When I raced, I used to get nervous. And I mean really, really, nervous. Not just the whole "butterflies" thing but sick-to-my-stomach-puking 20-minutes-before-the-race "nerves". I got over that after high school when I got to college. I took the pressure off of myself to win every race, to care about running. By the time I started getting good again, I was over the extreme nerves. I decided that if I wanted to be a really good runner, I also had to act the part. Which meant being calm, cool, collected and absolutely NOT nervous (in front of my teammates). I got over it by covering it with rituals. A turkey sub the night before. A tortilla with peanut butter and a banana the morning of, followed by a berry vitamin water. A chocolate outrage GU 15 minutes before. And finally a lucky sportsbra.
Watching people go through these nerves, while not having to go through them myself is fascinating. Do you really think that listening to blaring music will silence your fears of the competition? Do you think that wearing the same t-shirt that you wore right before your last P.R. will alter the course of your race? And do you really think deviating from your routine has the ability to ruin your race? No, of course it doesn't. Three hours before a race, there's nothing you can do to make yourself run faster. That has to come three weeks before a race. If you ask me, that's when the nerves should logically come too.
I realized that eating a chocolate GU 15 minutes before your race isn't as important as believing in yourself 15 minutes before a race. A lucky sportsbra isn't going to make or break your performance. Winning a race isn't about luck, it's about finding success after suffering many previous defeats. On race day, you shouldn't feel scared. You should feel lucky. Lucky to be there that is.
I think watching, as opposed to running races for the first time in my life has really changed my perspective on racing. Each race, is just an opportunity to celebrate running. Like freeing yourself from your otherwise strict training regiment. Race day, should be anything but stressful really. It's just a celebrating of the thousands of horrible miles that you put in by running a few really really fast and awesome ones.
Watching people go through these nerves, while not having to go through them myself is fascinating. Do you really think that listening to blaring music will silence your fears of the competition? Do you think that wearing the same t-shirt that you wore right before your last P.R. will alter the course of your race? And do you really think deviating from your routine has the ability to ruin your race? No, of course it doesn't. Three hours before a race, there's nothing you can do to make yourself run faster. That has to come three weeks before a race. If you ask me, that's when the nerves should logically come too.
I realized that eating a chocolate GU 15 minutes before your race isn't as important as believing in yourself 15 minutes before a race. A lucky sportsbra isn't going to make or break your performance. Winning a race isn't about luck, it's about finding success after suffering many previous defeats. On race day, you shouldn't feel scared. You should feel lucky. Lucky to be there that is.
I think watching, as opposed to running races for the first time in my life has really changed my perspective on racing. Each race, is just an opportunity to celebrate running. Like freeing yourself from your otherwise strict training regiment. Race day, should be anything but stressful really. It's just a celebrating of the thousands of horrible miles that you put in by running a few really really fast and awesome ones.
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