Aging Up

My birthday came and went. I celebrated 29 again, for those who wonder. This is getting a bit awkward given that my 15 year old is, in fact, 15. I’m not a person who gets morose about aging up a year, I am a beautiful woman in many respects, and so far I am aging as I expect. My mother is a beautiful woman, this gives me hope for my future. I do think about aging, as I think about health, as I think many badass mother runners must. But I don't fear "getting old".

Perhaps that's because I'm young still. Or perhaps it's because I trust my body?

Maybe it’s time to age up? 29 is a ridiculously fast BQ time, and not that I’m attempting a BQ any time soon, it’s still crazy to compare myself to those folks. Maybe I should just embrace my 39^th year as a 39 year old.

This is, as many of you know, The Year of The GBA 5K.

Which is why it’s only logical that I have signed up to run a marathon this fall.

Ummm... yeah. Well. #thathappened.

It’s my last year in my 30’s. I started running in my 30’s. And besides. The marathon and I always have unfinished business. Even when we don’t. There’s always room for discussion and improvement. Even when I meet my goals.

I want to run.

For some reason, I allow myself sometimes to get sucked into other people’s goals to the exclusion of mine. This year, I signed up to run this race alone. And by Alone I mean Alone with 1000 of my BFFs at Sports Backers Marathon Training Team. 

But truly, I am not training with my usual posse. The gang has all gone looking for their own goals. That isn’t to say there won’t be miles run together, but when the fall arrives, it’ll be me on the line.

I think this is good for me. The best races are the ones I remember that I have to run alone.

The marathon training team “group” starts running next week, and I’m looking forward to another year with my favorite coaches and runners. I’m going back to my origins, and rejoining the Green Team. I’ve missed my coaches, and wonder why I allowed myself to get so distracted last year. 

I try not to dwell on that.

I sat tonight with my friends ~  some who run and some who don’t  ~ and we discussed our fall plans, and I mused aloud that I had lost my fecking mind, and prolly I don’t even want to run a marathon in November.

Of course, they laughed at me, claiming I was talking nonsense, even as I shrugged off the moment with “don’t listen to “her”, that must be the wine talking. When I’m sober I feel certain that the marathon is something I love.”

Someone remind me of that in October.

But I seriously do love this sport. Even when I’m loving on my bike, I’m a runner at heart.

And so another birthday has come and gone, and it was a great birthday, celebrated with new friends and young friends and “old friends” who aren’t old. And even though another year has come and gone and my 30’s are 364 days from being a memory, I’m ready to enjoy and savor every single one of the 364 days.

Besides, nothing reminds me of my youth and vitality more than signing up to run 26.2. It’s like my “New Year” all over again.  I can’t picture a life without 20 mile training runs and the juicy hamburgers I celebrate the miles with after. OH! And the beer.

Can’t forget the beer.

Peace and a 10K

Here is a 2015 Monument Ave 10K Race Recap... sort of.

For Richmonders there are few things more fantastic than running Richmond. We have a strong running community, well organized and friendly to both the veterans and the noobs. Every year we have a 10K that attracts 30K participants, both running and walking their way for 6.2 miles down the avenue of Civil War statues that slices through the west side of town.

Tree lined streets and a grassy park down the center of the road make this flat fast out and back pretty enough to enjoy without being distracting.

At the last minute I signed up to run it.  I know, it’s “The Year of The 5K”, but the 10K is like twice the Fun and if I’m anything it’s a sucker for Fun Things.

Thus – I’m not short – I’m FUN SIZED.

Saturday I ran with my 30K BRFs

I made a goal – run sub 8’s, listen to your body, be in the moment, run your own race, trust yourself, fight every step of the run for a PR because you’re almost fit enough to do that.... Oh, and above all - look like a sexy beast.

I’d like to say it was the #bestdayever.  I’d like to say I owned the course and that the masses parted and my lungs were clear and I ran sub 8’s and got a PR and my hamstring didn’t complain once and I looked like a sexy beast...

But wha’ hada happen’d wuz...

My hamstring was achy and tired feeling during the warm up, and my chest was tight while I was waiting for the race to start. I hit my inhaler, which makes my heart race. Once again I mildly underdressed, which was intentional, but I wished for more Throw Away clothes as I stood in my corral. I did not run sub 8’s for the whole way.

My name is a little ways down this list.
But for the record:
My name is a little ways down this list.

I ran a 7:56 on mile one, and even though it was a sub 8, I knew my shot at a PR was pretty much over.  Nothing should FEEL THAT HARD at mile 1 that’s what she said.

Mile one was brutal. I also knew, however, that I could still break 50 minutes if I worked hard.

At least I looked like a sexy beast...

I chased down another runner with a blond ponytail, pushed someone else, was pulled at the end, and ran a 49:46.  I crossed the finish line and collapsed into the arms of Coach Black for a deeply satisfying hug.

I knew that my finish time was probably not quite good enough for a place in the TOP 100 in my AG, but ultimately I accepted that it was a completely respectable time. There were 1871 women in my AG at this event. I would later learn I had placed 78^th.  I’ll take it.

As I made my way through the gates and corrals and water lines and photographer, I thought about my performance.  There was a point in my life when a sub 50 minute 10K would have been as unattainable as winning a race. I’ve done both those things twice now. What other “unattainables” are on my “list” that shouldn’t be there?

Plenty.

And they’re going to need to GO.

I didn’t linger at the finish. I was instantly cold. So I went back to around the mile 5 marker and found my friend Dimples. She lent me a jacket so we could spectate together before she sent me back to her house with a key so I could shower and warm up and beer.

Now, here’s the thing. I was a mile from her house... so I ran back through the city with my medal tucked in my bra and my phone in my hand. It felt good to run.

Isn't that silly? I had just finished a race...  

I was on the sidewalk parallel to the course, and there were thousands of runners making their way to the finish.

I was easily on my 8^th mile of the day when you combine the race and the warm up.  But I wasn’t really dead on my feet... I was just enjoying a chilly run through the city... It felt easy. I was completely relaxed and at peace.

The sun dappled through the tree branches, the sidewalk was chipped and crooked, the spectators were teasing me that I was running the wrong way...  my stride was light, and I felt like a beast.

A beast who could fucking run.

Saturday, in that moment, is when I realized how ready I am to run again. I mean, really run again, for me. I want to Run Richmond. I want to be in the city, winding my way down cobblestones to the river, cutting through the museum district, crossing flood walls and embracing this place I love so much. 

I want to run again. Not because I have to, or because someone else tells me to, but because I MUST run in order to be true to ME. 

And in that truth, I will find peace.

~savor the run~