Maybe It's My Super Power

Those of you who have been around awhile might recall the summer of 2018 when I trained through a God-awful Austin summer for a fall half marathon. Remember how I always seemed to draw inspiration during my long runs and then I'd pour all that into a blog for y'all to endure? Well..... I'm back training for a half marathon (A summer one this time...because it's Asheville, not Austin) and once again I'm finding the repetitive motion, lack of oxygen, and the hour-plus bout of "me time" fortuitously inspiring. That said, if running analogies and the life lessons derived from them aren't your thing, you might want to quietly exit and get on with your day. No sense wasting 5-10 minutes of your life you'll never get back. 

Anywho, if you stuck around, thanks. I hope this turns out to be worth your while (and mine). 

~~

So let me regale you with some backstory. I was supposed to start training for the summer half marathon I mentioned above in May. And I guess I did. Sorta. I mean I extended my long run to eight miles and was well on my way to reaching the nine mile mark by mid-June. Plenty o' time to get confident at 12-13 miles and improve my speed before race day. Then 2.59 miles into a planned nine miler, my calf cramped and cramped some more. Before I took to walking back to the car, it went on lockdown. I couldn't push off at all and every step was more painful than I cared to endure. Plus, the thought of a greater injury loomed and with four half marathons paid for between August and February, I couldn't be actually hurt. This - whatever this was - had to be momentary. I seriously had no time to f*** around. 

Two weeks later it was no better. Two weeks after than I pulled it together enough to finish and win a 5k but it was painful and so not pretty. A week later, I did something I had only ever done once with a running injury - I sought help. Two hours with The Runner's Mechanic (www.therunnersmechanic.com) including an analysis of my running form and an enlightening discussion about how all my in-line skating might be screwing with said running form, a couple weeks of exercises, and a very slooooooowwwwww and frustrating return to actual running, I was able to run pain-free. 

My official return to running was the 4.5 mile Hellaciously Hilly Hellscape Run (aka Highland Brewing Night Flight), a nifty little race in the heat and humidity of a Western North Carolina July evening. Good times. A couple things - I dislike hills. And heat. And humidity. And evening runs. (And no, the free beer following the race was NOT enticing in the least). But it was my running buddy's birthday and she'd been dreaming of doing this race ON HER ACTUAL BIRTHDAY for two years. Through Covid. Through injury. This was her jam (She digs an evening run) and I signed up to support that. 

Keep in mind, I'd  run/walked a total of maybe 6 miles and completed one 3 miler without walking in the six weeks preceding race day. I had no idea if my calf would hold up and for how long. I foresaw a lengthy walk back to the car. After all, hills and calf injuries don't generally mix well. Nonetheless, I vowed to give it my best. 

I decided as race evening approached that my survival hinged on one thing and one thing alone - My ability to persist. Hills, heat, humidity....and the only way to it was through it (technically over it...). I thought of nothing else except grabbing and holding onto a survival mindset. I would put my head down, keep moving, and I would f***ing endure. Because if there is anything in this world I know I can do, it's endure. 

Well, turns out it wasn't hot and humid. Thunder clattered and the clouds built as I sat in my car waiting for my running buddy to arrive. My weather app said the rain would pass us by; it was all ado about nothing. As we set off for our warm-up, it started to sprinkle. Soon the sprinkles turned into a downpour and, about the time we dashed into the shipping container that served as the ladies' room, it became a gully-washer (Granted, a metal container probably wasn't the safest place we could choose to seek refuge during a thunderstorm, but it was the driest). By race time, the brunt of the storm had passed. Ah, great timing. As we headed out, the temps remained cool - in the low 70s - and humidity wasn't a factor. The hills remained but 1 outa 3 was indeed a Godsend. 

Then, maybe a mile in, the rains came. And came. And came. A total deluge. I heard the occasional clap of thunder over the music blasting through my headphones. Well, here was something unexpected to endure. Soggy shoes, wet socks, questionable visibility, a zing or two of lightening in the distance, water-logged shorts slipping down my hips. And hills. Don't forget the hills. 

Nothing about my race plan changed one iota. I was there to endure and that's what I did. Head down, hold form, breathe, hold the f*** on, and finish, g**dammit finish.

I muscled my way through that race in a way I had never muscled through a race. I've pushed myself to the end of my physical rope; I've run injured; I've endured. What I did that night on my way to the fastest time of any woman over 50 (I won Women's Grandmaster) was different. Sure, I have certain physical gifts - I can run and I can occasionally put together a few decently quick miles when I need them - but that race on the Hellaciously Hilly Hellscape was run with my mind. The muscle that got me through was my brain. I guess we could say it was my belief and faith in myself that I could and would endure whatever came my way  - heat, humidity, hills, calf injury, or torrential rain. It didn't matter what came (Snakes would have presented an issue...), I would get through it and finish. 

Fast forward to this morning's run... I have two weeks until race day. As of last Tuesday, my long run was a paltry seven miles, barely halfway in a half marathon (13.1 miles for the uninitiated). If I was going to be even moderately prepared come race day on August 21, I was going to need to add two miles per week to my long run. From experience I can tell you that this is indeed possible, it's just not all that fun or comfortable. Our bodies aren't designed to adapt that quickly to added mileage. That said, I felt I had no choice. "We always have a choice..." My running buddy's sage advice got a big eye roll (Fortunately it was via text so she didn't see it). Well then, my choice was to run nine miles this week and eleven next, then thirteen on race day. Actual wisdom be damned.

Knowing the physical suffering I was bound to face - my body is simply not ready for the mileage I was going to ask it to run - I fell back on my H3 race strategy - Head down, hold form, breathe, hold on, and finish. Period. Nine miles at any pace. Bottom line? I was going endure whatever came my way. The crazy thing? It worked. It f***ing worked. Last night and this morning I kept telling myself to "Find a way." And I did. 

Oh yeah, I said there would be a life lesson. I've endured a lot recently. Losing both my parents, the misery of Las Vegas, a complex relationship and subsequent breakup, moving away from everything I knew and starting fresh in an entirely new place. All that has made me stronger, more self-assured. So much so that even when I'm lonely and wish I could talk to my mom or laugh with my dad, I know with every certainty that everything will be ok in the end. It's just going to take some fortitude and belief...and endurance. Maybe all this has impacted my running. I honestly don't know. What I do know is this - and it's something we all need to realize about ourselves - If we think we can, we will. If we just believe in ourselves a little more, just a weensy bit more, there's absolutely no telling what we can accomplish. 

~~

Belief is becoming my super power. Hmmm.... Interesting...