Set Your Own Pace, Run Your Own Race

In January of this year, 2016, I ran my first half marathon.

It was supposed to be my second.  I had been training last fall for an event in November, a half Ironman distance triathlon.

A couple of weeks before the event I had a health concern.  I called my doctor on a Monday.  They saw me on Wednesday.  And again on that Friday.  At Friday's appointment words like "biopsy" and "surgery" were brought out.  A biopsy was done. 

It was all very quick, and very unexpected.  Surgery was required, the extent of which to be determined by the biopsy results.

I sat on the table, somewhat dazed.  I had not brought anyone with me to the appointment because I really thought it was "no big deal" kind of thing. 

But one thing I did have the presence of mind to ask was whether or not I could do the triathlon the next Saturday.  The doctor gave me a look that I'm sure others have received when asking a seemingly ridiculous question.  Sure, I could participate but under the circumstances he didn't really think I would want to.

Ultimately, I didn't.  Too much had happened in too short a time.  I knew that mentally I was not in the right place.  (Especially dangerous if you are looking to swim 1.2 miles in open water.  Must be focused on the task at hand.)

I waited the next week for "the phone call".  What would that biopsy show?

In the end, I got the best news.  No cancer.  Still had a health issue but the surgery would take care of everything and it was scheduled for December 1.  The Tuesday before Thanksgiving I was pre-admitted and the Tuesday after, I went under the knife, except it was all done by lasers.

One month to six weeks recovery.  No driving.  Limited exercise.  I worked from home starting the second week so I could work when I could, and rest when I needed.

On December 23, 2015, I was released from the doctor.  I had done exceptionally well with my recovery and, yes, I was free to drive myself to Arkansas for Christmas.  Great!

But, I had another question.  Could I still do the half-marathon on January 17 that I had registered for months earlier?  Different doctor's office personnel, but same quizzical look.  No reason that I couldn't, medically.

Only issue was an obvious lack of recent training.

I arose very early on that Sunday morning.  Several times that preceding week Billy had questioned my sanity.  In a very rare act for me, I asked him not to go.  I wasn't positive that I could do it, and I didn't want him to watch me fail.  But I knew I had to try.

My trip to Baton Rouge was not without its bumps and, in the end, I arrived at the start 5 minutes too late.  With tears running down my face, I asked the race director if I could still run but just not receive an official time.  He paused for only a second (the race is on public streets after all) and not only told me I could, but after the race he would get me my shirt, bib, swag bag, etc. 

And off I went.

I had been very nervous leading up to this.  I was nowhere close to be physically fit for this event.  Mentally, I was not confident, either.  I knew I'd have to walk most of it.  Could I finish in time?  I'd checked the rules and I had about 7 hours to complete the course.  I could do that, right?  What would people say about me walking?  Would that be frowned upon?  Would I be embarrassed at the back all by myself as others took off running?  I hated the thought of the poor policeman that would have to tail this poor, lone "runner" as she struggled through.

If I hadn't already dropped $20 to park I might just have well turned around and gone home as to take off on that run.

But I started.  I was a ways behind the pack but I was trying.  Run, walk.  Run a little, walk a lot.  Run a little more. 

Slowly, I made ground and I actually started closing the distance.  Soon, I was passing others that were walking.  As I walked, I could hear other participants in conversations.  To my amazement I heard one lady saying she couldn't believe people ran these things.  She had no intention of running one step.

She registered for a half marathon with NO intention of running it!  Whoa!

Maybe my walking wouldn't be so bad after all.  Hmmm.....

Soon, I was up with the others.  Two miles passed.  I texted Billy.  "Just passed two miles."

"4 miles, 55 minutes."

"Halfway!"

"Just five more to go!"

"10 miles? Done!"

After all those texts, I got this response: " You got it now.  Just think of how far you've come in all this athletic stuff.  And think of all those that thought you couldn't ever do this."

That day, I learned a lot about myself, and others.  I saw young and old, men and women, all shapes and sizes.  Some just walking, others pushing themselves. 

All doing the best they could.  Bettering themselves and furthering their journey to a better them.

We were all running our own races, at our own paces.

I have always known that I don't race others.  I only compete with myself. 

Me, myself and I.

Together, we did it.

I pushed myself, but not too hard.  I made certain that I ran part of every mile, if only a few hundred yards in some.  I didn't want to go all out at the beginning, exhaust myself, and possibly damage something. 

I stayed inside my head.  Drawing encouragement from cheerleaders lining the streets, signs in yards, volunteers at the water stops making sure we had all we needed.

It was a proud drive home.  And much easier than the journey there early in the morning.  Maybe I subconsciously sabotaged my drive because my head was talking louder than my heart.

But the heart ultimately won.

It will, when allowed. 

Never compare yourself to someone else.  In anything.  God made us all different, and I am the only Me there is.  There is no set mold for a runner/doctor/teacher/mailman/CPA/minister/nurse/any other profession.   All we can do is our best.

Whatever your goal, run your own race at your own pace.  Finishing is all that matters.