The first sound byte was the over-familiar riff of “Eye of the Tiger”, and my playlist revealed its age! It made me smile, bringing back a flood of memories- pre-race breakfasts with my boys at CCI on the Saturdays before all the Mumbai Marathons, that we had suffered together, moments of all the finish lines that we had crossed, some together, others separately. In the end, friendship always won. As I shuffled to the next song, it was the old classic—“Total Eclipse of the Heart” – and I wondered, what this song was doing in my running playlist? 

And Tears. 

Overcome with emotion,  I realized how far I had come in life, and with my running. 

Now, as a celebration I was about to embark on my dream project- Project Gold.  

New York: (one day before the race) 

I had bought new wired headphones (the Rs. 600 ones, as no other one was available-  I suppose everyone has moved to its cool city cousin!) I carefully untangled these and put them in my race kit, in anticipation of  the predicted hot race, the following day. I had not even thought of my Ipod in Berlin or Chicago, but the prospect of running a marathon in 25 degrees and the blazing sun at noon- was sufficiently  frightening. I was preparing for the worst. 

We were all dressed as if it was a June day- shorts, vests and a cap. Over 2000 of us, in various shapes and sizes, and a few (stupid- IMHO) sporting the official marathon t-shirt which was full-sleeved! (first timers, I thought, clueless, and I rolled my eyes in my head!). Amongst those around me was a father-daughter pair, it was the daughter’s first marathon ever. Expressing my delight for her first race, it took me back to mine, way back in 2012- oh the joy, the pain and the freedom of the first! I was overwhelmed with gratitude. We all shared a common sentiment, of how lucky we felt to be running this iconic race, today. 

And tears again. 

On the ferry, the Manhattan skyline receded in the distance, and Lady Liberty waved to us. A British runner (who had visited Mumbai several times) and I grumbled, if we wanted to run a warm, humid race we could have simply run TMM, why bother with the TCS NY marathon? And then the conversation stretched the limits of reality as we wished for rain! With hope in our hearts and a prayer on our lips for the weather gods, we got off the ferry and scrambled into the yellow school buses waiting to take us the Athletes Village.

No tears, only enthusiasm, as we followed the volunteers to the large holding area. 

Like an over-curious child, with glazed eyes and an over stimulated brain, I was almost giddy with excitement, soaking it all in. The green grass contrasted well against the brilliant blue sky. It was a gorgeous day. The air was laden with heat, weighed down with the stories of all 50,000 of us- each one with a unique journey, sprawled in the lawns of Fort Wadsworth, with water bottles strewn around, some sitting on newspapers, yoga mats and others on previous race blankets (I was showing off with my Berlin one!). Counters serving coffee, bagels, bananas, donuts – staple of all runners – were in abundance. And here we were, in the greatest city in the world- waiting to follow the one path marked out for us today, the 26.2 mile blue line across its 5 boroughs, over its 5 recognisable bridges. 

It was only 8:30 am and already feeling hot. What will happen? 

This fact should have brought me to tears- but I was too excited to care!

I was here and that was all that mattered. 

Resting under the shade of the tent, I staying hydrated, I tried to calm myself down. Suddenly, at 9 am, I heard a cannon go off and I ran to the other side. I waited with bated breath and after a couple of minutes, I saw the first group of amateurs on the Verrazano-Narrows bridge! Once they crossed it  they would be in Brooklyn!

Tears again. 

It had begun. The race had begun. 

The canon will be fired for me, too.

The next hour flew past, between seeing more starts, visits to the portaloo, runner-watching and a little pretentious stretching -it was too hot to warm up! And then I heard the announcement that I had been waiting for, “The gates for the Wave 3 start of all corrals will close in 15 minutes, please head to your corrals.” I jumped up, skipped, stumbled, almost tripped, as I made my way towards the Blue start. 

Just outside the tent, I came to a crossroad with possibly the world’s worst signage. I stared at it, perplexed, one arrow indicated blue corral on the right and another, blue corral to go straight. I simply could not tell which way to go. (I have a history of mixing up right/left, and getting lost, so I thought best to ask someone-I could not make a mistake here!) I asked some of the volunteers which direction to head in, but they seemed just as lost as me. One smart-ass, stroked his chin and said, “Maybe follow the people?” Panic was rising, slowly, but steadily. So ok. Deep breaths and I followed his (ill) advice. In a few 100m I was surrounded by a horde of green bibs. Yikes! WRONG! I retraced my steps back to the junction, to enquire with another volunteer (I was really feeling very dumb at that point!). Just then, thankfully, a blue bibbed runner crossed me- so I followed him (no time for any errors now).  “Blue corral gates closing in 5 minutes” we were warned, and my HR was reaching its max, but literally in the next 30 seconds I found myself surrounded by blue bibs! I was home- yay, yay, yay! Last minute race prep- a gel, with a swig of water, Fast and Up Activate and I was ready. 

We walked towards the bridge (the race had not even started and it felt like we had walked at least 4/5 km since morning). I looked up at the sky, it was a beautiful day, just 10 degrees warmer than my liking. 

I shook out my shoulders. 

Cap on. Smile on. We reached the start line. 

Lining up, in the distance, we could see the tensioned cables of the bridge gleaming in the sunshine. 

Strains of Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York” filled the air. 

Tears again.

It was really happening. 

My previous races, my kids, my friends – all flashed in my head- jumbled up.

“THE. TCS. NY City. MARATHON. Is. About to begin. 3-2-1”

And boom-I was pulled out of my reverie with the canon shot and we were off,

our hearts filled with gratitude, we thanked the universe for making this day a reality. 

(to be continued…)

From the luminous gilded hot air balloon hovering in the Tuileries, centrally framed through the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel, the arched entrance to the Louvre, to the clever logo that is a unity of three iconic symbols: the gold medal, the flame, and Marianne – a symbol of the revolution and the people of France. 

The friendly volunteers and police, happy to guide us as we walked from the metro stations to the stadia (yes, the French do know English!) and the Olympic tourists, made it a whole new Paris- its usual joie de vivre now infused with a unique camaraderie for all lovers of sport who had gathered in the city of Love, to celebrate “The Games”. 

Over all these years I followed the Olympics- and of course the rise of India, but in a very limited way. I only followed the medals tally and read about some athletes- athletics, gymnastics and swimming. But this year, as I was to be there in the thick of the action, I made an effort to familiarise myself with the athletes and the events. Prior to reaching Paris, I read the profiles of the Indian regiment, their stories, training regime, mindset, as well as their overall attitude and got goosebumps. All of them were inspiring in their own way, the common sentiment though, was their discipline and sacrifice. Through social media and thanks to Russa, I also learned about many international athletes to watch out for, the story of these champions being fairly consistent – they started young had dedicated their lives to achieve this level of excellence through their college years and after, with grit and of course, inherent talent. 

It was an experience of a lifetime. 

As an amateur athlete in my own limited way, it was humbling to be breathing the same air as the Olympians. It was a dazzling display of French ingenuity as they designed the entire city as a huge sports arena to showcase world class athletes. It was really special to be close enough to actually see the joy and the tears, to feel their victory and disappointment, to see them hug their team members to rejoice and console. 

Watching the hockey match where India won the bronze medal was such a proud moment and I teared up when they played the national anthem at the start of the game. Indians from France had shown up in large numbers and the game was exciting, with our “India—Indiiaaa” cheers- loud and enthusiastic.

I was in Stade de France to see the fifteen girls applauding Tara Davis-Woodhall, as she won the gold medal in long jump and hugged her Paralympian husband, Hunter Woodhall. It was then that we saw the javelin leave the powerful arm of Arshad Nadeem, a winning throw from that very second!  

The most special for me, however, was watching the Men and Women’s marathons. I followed them everywhere, from the start line at Hotel de Ville, to the 5k mark near the Louvre to the finish line near the Invalides. Amazing how these iconic French monuments were now nothing more than a km marking for me- with the ostentatious Palace of Versailles transformed into merely, a turnaround point! Seeing Kipchoge and Kipruto in flesh, learning who Tola is, were moments to be cherished forever. 

But for me, the real star was Sifan Hassan- the treble winner of 5000m, 10,000m and the marathon. In our heart of hearts, we all hoped that she would win, but no one imagined that she could pull it off! 

I was at the 42km mark, when the 3 leading women ran in a huddle, drenched in sweat and I could see the gruelling miles on their faces, thinking, how had they run this arduous race under this treacherous sun and unforgiving climbs, when I needed shade to just stand on the side and cheer? Really touching moment. It could have been anyone’s race at that point. 

Sifan, winning with that sprint at the end that must have taken everything, said in an article from NYT:  “Every single moment I regretted that I ran the five and 10,000m.” This showed her human side, like all of us, to doubt yourself during a race, when we look back and question ourselves about the decisions we made and the path that we chose. ‘“What have I done? What is wrong with me?” she said of the inner monologue that had echoed in her head during the final miles of the marathon.’

The eternal question!

Victory and Loss, two sides of a coin for us, life-changing for these stars.

Olympians reach this pinnacle of success with the support of many- families, schools, coaches, federations and most importantly, their home countries. They sacrifice their lives to make their nation shine, make their flag fly high, dominating the sky and fill the hearts of their fellow citizens with pride. 

For us in India, it is just the opposite. Athletes are left to find their own means to train, to compete. If they win India is quick to claim them as their own, but in the time of need- there is just none or very little support. A few organisations have been working, but the real power still remains vested with the so-called federations that are a farce.  Reality emerges as a few brave athletes, put their lives on the line, by calling out the corrupt politicians and molesters. It is a grim picture. 

As amateur athletes we know how hard we work, the various factors we consider while planning a race, from the training strategies, balancing work and life, to seemingly small things like race day attire and pre-race fueling. But I feel nothing is small. It all contributes to a successful race. Nutrition. Strength training. Mental training. Recovery. Physio. ALL!! If my third gel- salted date combination timing is so crucial to my inconsequential race, how much planning, funding and support would world class racing require for an event that comes once in 4 years, an opportunity the athlete gets a chance to represent their country at best one or two times, and in a few exceptional cases three?

Let’s accept it, that we don’t have what it takes to create Olympic champions, as we cannot compete with the world on level ground. Not because we don’t have talent, but because we don’t know how to create an environment that nurtures it. Champions, as we know, are born with talent, but created, on the ground, in gyms, rinks, arenas, ranges, rings, on an athletic track, in a 50m Olympic sized pool. We don’t have these facilities freely and easily accessible. Worse, we don’t have any willingness to create this. As Indians, we find glamour in saying that our champions train in fields, on muddy tracks, bare feet, ill equipped, starved, exploited. 

I am bereft of all words. I am ashamed to say this is our India. 

From this Saturday’s heartbreaking article on Vinesh Phogat, from Mint Lounge, A girl called Courage. Despite facing all the difficulties that she did, she wishes for hope, still appealing to men in an extremely patriarchal Haryana.  

‘At closing of her felicitation ceremony in her village, Balali, around 2am she would find the words for a lovely little speech, hoping that every home in this village produced a girl who would beat her records, beseeching the elders in the audience, which even here was 95% male, to “please support my sisters, they can achieve a great deal, they only need your help, your hopes, your belief”, soon thereafter tell the press that “The fight of life is very long.”’

Her struggle is real. 

It is a fight for mere survival. 

A fight for all athletes. 

A fight for all women.

It shows me how privileged I am to be writing this. 

Kipchoge’s words have been immortalised, “I’ve done this to inspire other people and show the world nobody is limited.”

And how most of us interpret them is, if Kipchoge can get a PB…so can I.

Here is what I learned from the INEOS1:59 Challenge.

Everything Matters:

1. Hard work: When asked about his training Kipchoge said, “I have been training for this for four-and-a-half months, putting my heart and mind to run a marathon under two hours and make history.”

Kipchoge wrote down a formula: Motivation + Discipline = Consistency

This is the key factor for any successful training plan. Talent alone can take you only this far! 16 weeks is exactly how long most marathon-specific plans, for us mortals, are.

2. Environmental factors: These do affect race performance and training significantly. The venue and time were carefully chosen by organisers to provide the best-possible conditions – cool and windless.

Likewise, we need to understand our race conditions and allow for the pacing to be planned for accordingly. Those chasing PBs and BQs need to pick their battleground well! (As I say, PBs in ADHM are valid only for ADHM!)

3. Teamwork is critical: Olympic level pacemakers, refinements in training methods and the most effective of nutrition and hydration plan, all worked in tandem for him to achieve the impossible. Oh yes, and the Nike Next% Vaporfly!

Similarly, pick your team well: coach, nutrition plan, strength training, massage and the like. That will go a long way to support your training and recovery.

4. Mental makeup: Records beget records. In ways both direct and indirect, the establishment of a new record time by our peers makes us believe that the goal is achievable. That his own world record was 2:01:39, and Bekele clocked 2:01:41 in Berlin just 3 weeks ago, made it seem more doable.

As we all know running is in the mind. When we see someone with similar capability achieving our goal, it brings the dream closer.

5. Run to a plan: On how he ran, Kipchoge said, “I was really calm and trying to go with the pace, not to be crazy or slow, but to follow instructions and what the pacemakers are doing.”

However much we think magic happens on race day, it does NOT. So no heroics during most of the race.  So like Kipchoge, we need to have a plan, as per our training and follow that! ;-). All show off needs to be left for the last few km!

6. Smile and feed off the crowd support: Quite often, when his efforts are truly hurting him, he cracks a flashy grin—a psychological ruse to overcome the pain. Also, he wanted noise. At Breaking2, Kipchoge ran the F1 circuit seventeen and a half times, very early in the morning. There were no crowds cheering him on. Kipchoge thrives off of support, and he felt the absence on that occasion. He wanted this attempt to attract spectators.

This is something that I use all the time and it works! More often than not, others around me wonder…Is she really enjoying this? But the fact is, that the smile triggers the brain in ways to make the pain more bearable.

And all of us who have run the larger races have experienced the magic of encouragement – the cheering fuels you, versus the empty patches where you feel you are the only lonely soul suffering this!

You Have To Believe.

Confidence, that I can do this, is not manufactured. It comes directly from specific training experiences that demonstrate your readiness to achieve your goal time.

Developing a true belief in the ability to achieve one’s goal is the single most important possible outcome of any runner’s training, because the brain is the ultimate regulator of running performance, and it is next to impossible to fool the brain regarding what the body can and cannot do.

All factors and more contribute towards creating this confidence.

It took the INEOS1:59 team, which includes scientists and coaches, to work together with Kipchoge to achieve this!

We emulate our heroes. And learn from them.

That is why our post-race Facebook posts read like Oscar speeches!

The start was very crowded as the area designated for the runners was very narrow. We got into rhythm fairly quickly and by the third km we were faster than our target pace. We tried to rein the pace in- but it just wasn’t happening. The route was scenic. Legs were fresh, great weather and awesome crowd support. So we decided to roll with it.

This being my first full marathon outside Mumbai, as I ran in unfamiliar surroundings, my thoughts were free wheeling. I had an out of body experience, as I wondered. What am I doing here? Thousands of km away from home. It was me. By myself. In rhythmic tandem with my cadence, this voice over started in my head. Like a movie going on… “You are here to run the race of your life. You have obliterated all doubts and fears and you have faith in your training. You are here to do your personal best and that is what you will do. So brace yourself and run strong.”
I ran with positivity, smiling and hi fiving everyone around. As we chatted with some local runners, they were surprised to hear that we came so far away to run this race. But it’s the best race in the Netherlands. Yes, it’s going to be a good one. Lovely day, I said. But a tad too warm, a day for the beach, they said, and we laughed. We cruised along until the halfway mark, where I managed my HM PB- 1.53.05. Yayyyyy!!! Everything was as per plan.

The vista kept changing. From the quaint countryside, with lakes, bridges and lush green grass, to flyovers and skyscrapers, it was quite a tour of Rotterdam. The best way to see a city, I’d say. Approaching the 30km mark, I braced myself for the fatigue to set in. As a flyover came, I slowed down, but after that kilometre long uphill, much to my surprise, I managed to get back to the original marathon pace. This is awesome, I’m not dying yet! Feeling invincible, I said to myself, nothing can go wrong now! In a race, the job of the muscles is to perform. The job of the mind is to cope.
Sailing through at marathon pace, I remained strong in my head. I sang a bit, danced some and soaked it all in. At 35km there was a sigh of relief…no Peddar road here!

At 37 km, “5km to Boston- run hard, don’t settle.” This message from a dear friend flashed in my head and I forged on. I did not look at the overall time. Instead, my focus remained on maintaining the pace. The pace was slightly hard, but not intimidating. I had a plan and I stuck to it. The crowds became more frenzied towards the end, as did my music. And I let it rip. Right Now, said Sammy Hagar!
The final few km were a breeze as I streamed past the runners who were slacking. I knew I was bang on target, and would finish well in time, and when I calculated my finish time with a kilometre to go, I was shocked! How could it be? This spurred me on to do the last kilometre at a scorching 5 min/km!

I ran this race with gratitude and belief.
Grateful that I have made it so far in life.
Grateful for all the love I have been showered with.
Grateful for the support of my family and friends.
Belief in the training.
Belief in myself.
Belief in the day, in the moment, in the Now.

One cannot improve as an endurance athlete except by changing one’s relationship with the perception of effort. Perceived effort is essentially the body’s resistance to the mind’s will. The fitter an athlete becomes the less resistance the body puts up. The key, I learned is to work hard, so hard, that the hard seems doable. Almost easy. That the effort does not feel overwhelming. How to get “comfortable” at an uncomfortable pace has been the focus of my training for the last 6 months. This included a lot of easy running to fatigue the legs and then doing a long run at marathon pace. This toughened the mind and conditioned the legs.

It is when life bends us to its will and we don’t break that we learn what we are made of.

It has not been an easy-breezy year compared to my previous years, when my improvement had seemed almost effortless. The ADHM and SCMM races didn’t quite go the way I had imagined to run them. I did alright timing wise, but I felt I had to work really hard. Maintaining the constant pace was very hard and took a lot of focus. So post Bombay when I ran Thane, I got the same time as Delhi but I felt I was flying. That is when I knew that the training was coming together and I got a lot of confidence for this race.

Mo Farah said this before his first marathon, “This will be the hardest race of my life.” He wasn’t being negative; he was bracing himself.

I flew across the finish with my arms open wide embracing the world and all its joy. 3.48.33! 42.2 km. NN Rotterdam Full Marathon.

I was in seventh heaven. Tears of joy streamed down my cheeks. This finish time is my ticket to my next full marathon. This run was the culmination of a 2 year dream.  In January 2014, when I watched “The Marathon Movie” a day before SCMM, this seed was sown- to, one day; in the near future qualify for the mother of all marathons. Boston 2017, here comes The Running Soul.

And my speed training this year, I know has not been consistent. The goal for Delhi was simple. Better the last year’s race by a minute. But run a constant pace tempo. End result. I got my time. 1. 53. Yes a PB. Am I thrilled? No.

Instead of running a flat pace, my pace varied with my mind and my music.My thoughts and my temper.
I have not been able to hold this pace even during my tempos while training. Expecting me to do this on race day, was to expect a miracle. The miracle which usually does happen on race day. But I did not even control the mind enough, to will that to happen.

Rahul, Ashima and I started well and stayed on course till 8 km. After that something snapped and I squandered away all my focus. Rahul went on, holding the pace whereas Ashima’s and my pace slipped. I knew. I could see it. I could feel it.  Instead of tightening my belt, I let it continue. The crowd was not motivating. I had to look within, dig deep and pull myself up- but I did not.
At 16km, India Gate showed up and I snapped out of my reverie. So I told Ashima, lets buck up and like a demon possessed I smiled to myself, picked up pace and forged ahead. Unfortunately I lost Ashima there.
My  iPod blared-“I’m coming out… So you better get this party started! “And there I was. Cruising.
As it happens towards the second half of the race, all runners have settled into a rhythm and it’s pretty much the same group that you run the race with. There was a runner who has been zig zagging around me for the last 3-4 km. I had been maneuvering myself around him but in my new avatar- I held my hand left hand out- as I overtook him – and said- this is my lane. Do not cross! And I took off!
Already in rhythm, I pushed the turbo button for the last 2, doing my best to bring the average pace down to beat my last year’s time.
And I did it.

ADHM 1.53.54 to beat last years 1.54.57.
It wasn’t hard. I had just not focused enough.

Training like this, has increased the joy in my running. I did enjoy the race. Yes. I still made conversation and laughed a bit The ease with which I held pace surprised me. What shocked me though was that I ran a 1.53 half marathon and I was not thrilled. The ecstatic feeling of last year is not replicated. And that I feel, reflects my growth as a person and a runner, where the method has become more important than the eventual result. Awareness of every thought and every move is making me more alive. I am getting more out of each run. Each race. Each day. Each minute.

44 days to SCMM.

I better wake up else I will be left singing sad songs!

That I’ve not run so fast all season.
That it wasn’t raining.
Warm up done. I picked up pace. I held it for a while, but when the heat got to me and I faltered. Rahul, being stronger and faster carried on. Now my only goal was to keep him in sight. Further down the road, Malay decided to join me. And there we were. Trotting along. Barely managing to hold pace. And then we turned around for the second half. Around 6.5 km I stopped.

For no reason.

No pain.

Not even out of breath.

Malay stopped too, with me.

Wondering if all was ok with me. Also wondering why did I stop. when he asked me I had no answer. I only managed to mumble – sometimes my brain gets the better of me. After gathering my wits/ thoughts/ will power, we started again. I had about 2.5 km to finish and 500m into the run I felt I got a stitch. Then my entire stomach seemed to be tied in a knot. I could barely breathe. But I continued running. It was an ordeal. I was ignoring the pain and going on. And all this happened within a kilometre. Suddenly, I saw the light. I couldn’t breathe because I wasn’t breathing. And that was root cause of all my difficulty.
Eureka!
So deep breaths!
Within 10 strides the knot dissolved.
And it got easier.
I found my rhythm.
With 100 m to go I sprinted to the finish and I brought the average pace down to a respectable figure. Not my target pace, but close enough.
Not bad!

I spoke to Savio post run. As usual he has the same words for me. Only if you relax and run can you run fast. Keep your shoulders loose and breathe. And there I was….Tightening up due to stress. From my brain down…arms shoulders stomach… All in tension. Constricted.
These words we hear all the time- but only when we experience it do we understand.

Life lesson.

And I put it into good use- when I left my wallet behind in a cab. When despite calling the driver, I had to catch a cab back from the airport as his cell phone was unreachable. When something was wrong with an order of furniture at work for a site, and I could only find the solution 3 days later. After a few minutes of panic. Deep breaths. What can I do. Relax and let it happen. Because that’s the only way it will.

Epilogue- The above run happened 2 weeks ago. And I have written it for myself today (Friday- 2nd October) as I had an absolutely disastrous tempo this morning. Yes I will blame the weather. And my hectic work schedule. But the point is…

When it got tough I gave up.

No talk. No discussion.

It was a bad day. I’m going to put it behind me. Everyone has bad days. They just don’t talk about them.

This is what I learnt from it…

1. Learn to appreciate your bad runs: We all hope that the stars will align on race day and we’ll have the perfect race that we’ve been training for. It is, however, possible (god forbid!) that you will encounter some problem or another during your race, whether it be excessive heat or cold, a stomachache, or anything else that might impede your performance. Or when you simply need to dig deep for the last push- when everything has given up. This is where your bad runs of the past will become your best friend. Learn to love them and fight through them, because, chances are they’ll help you push through a tough race in the future!

2. Learn to appreciate your good runs: Don’t take your good runs for granted. We are all training hard to earn them. If you have a bad run, make sure you keep in mind all of the good runs you’ve experienced in order to keep yourself from getting discouraged.(In writing this I’m only telling myself this!)

3. Track your bad runs to identify possible triggers: Note any specifics of the bad run including changes in your routine (e.g., hillier route, new shoes, weather, health, rest) to see if you can identify a pattern or possible causes later on. For example, maybe all of your bad runs happen the same day every week after you’ve stayed up late the night before for work/movie/Social event!!

4. Know that it’s OK to stop: Sometimes, you just have to pack it in and turn around early. If you are totally miserable or feel like you might be close to injuring yourself (or already hurting), there’s no shame in not doing as long of a run as you intended. I know I’d rather miss out on the last 20 minutes of my run rather than spend the next month not running at all because of an injury. Take solace in the fact that you still got out there and know that one run is not going to make or break your running career. Remember, you’re still lapping everyone on the couch!

5. Run again tomorrow: After a particularly bad run, it can be tempting to curl up in a ball on the couch and refuse to move for a few days. I mean, obviously, one bad run must mean that you now suck at running forever, right? Wrong! Get yourself out there the next day or soon enough t you will feel 100% better and, in the process, realize that your bad run was simply a fluke. That is, unless your bad run is the result of overtraining, in which case, please enjoy a much-needed rest day. I took the Saturday off, as I was sleep deprived due to work!

 I ran an easy breezy 21k on Sunday, after the Disastrous Friday!

]]> https://therunningsoul.com/2015/10/the-story-of-two-tempo-runs/feed/ 8 1315 https://therunningsoul.com/2014/02/why-do-we-race/ https://therunningsoul.com/2014/02/why-do-we-race/#comments Sun, 16 Feb 2014 09:13:58 +0000 http://therunningsoul.com/?p=583 The lull after the storm.

Post marathon we rest our body. We recover from the aches and pains.

We gloat over our completion. We give our mind a break.

Running a race takes a toll on the brain and the body. This period of recovery is essential in order to prevent a burnout. As Savio says that if you can run within 4 days of the race then you haven’t given everything to the race.
This time is to evaluate the race, good or bad, and plan the year ahead.  Set new targets and new goals.
Post a race the decision can be between the 2 variables.  Should I go faster or train to run longer? Each minutes shaved off is like a medal.
So -Why do we race?

The need to be tested, perhaps; the need to take risks; and the chance to be number one.”

There is something about pinning on a number. It’s like, you can do all the practice in the world but what happens in race day is what matters.

I love to train; you know this about me. I am happy to simply train and train and train and train, even with no set goal in mind and no race date on my calendar..

Maybe it’s the paper, rustling against my clothes. Maybe it’s the early morning wake up, the intention behind what I eat, when I go to bed, and what I have laid out on my dresser. Maybe it’s being part of the pack, the community, the sense of truly belonging someplace. Maybe it’s the provision of the water stops and the kindness of fans. Maybe it’s my watch beeping at me, calling me higher. Maybe it’s the awareness of my splits, or the burn of the effort in my legs. Maybe it’s the accomplishment of crossing the finish line. Maybe it’s the ache at day’s end that says “you did something good today.”

Pinning on a number is bold. It says, yes, I am a runner.

It speaks to the idea of getting out there, putting ourselves out there, and the glory of the try.

Pinning on a number wakes me up. It reminds me that I can practice things till I know the road like the back of my hand, but at some point I have to go for it, for real. The rustle of the number is heard in every other area of my life. I find it easier to encourage my children, because my memory of encouraging myself is fresh and real. I find it easier to try putting myself out there in other ways, because I have some momentum in my stride. I find I give up less easily, because my endurance awareness is honed and handy.

Pinning on a number also pricks a hole in the bubble of perfectionism, letting the air out, suffocating that annoying voice that tells me I’m not ready yet, I’m not enough, I may not have what it takes. If I can simply shrug off the performance mentality long enough to get to the start line, the rest manages to take care of itself. I am freed to try for trying’s sake. I am nurturing the place in me that needs a push. I unhinge and uninhibit myself, taking myself off the hook and towing the line all at once.

The simple act, pin through fabric, through paper, clasp, repeat – sometimes in life we get to choose our own labels.

We wear this one proudly.

So- well done finishers…..

Remember- it’s a new season, a new race, a new year-

and a new race is a new race so

let’s work at it with hope in our heart and wings in our heels.