When you wake up on any given day and lace up your running shoes, you never know what kind of day you’re going to be handed. Good runs come and go. So do bad ones. It’s the eb and flow of any runner’s life. You just hope and pray that the bad day doesn’t land on race day.
And when it happens on race day, after a nearly flawless training season disappointment is inevitable.
In retrospect the cards were stacked against me, but I couldn’t let go of what I had trained for. In the moment of running this race I was 100% okay with what was happening, but in the moments after the run I found myself wildly hearbroken.
I didn’t train for a marathon to run a marathon, I trained for a marathon to run a strong race and see what solid training would do for me.
I was completely prepared for New York and tried to be completely okay with an alternate race. My husband said I was being unrealistic after a week of being sick, a four week taper, eight hours in a car the day before the race, and very little sleep among other factors… but I never lost hope until I reached mile thirteen of this race and my legs still weren’t on board with my pace and my lungs were burning.
But the unexpected part of this entire process was this weekend. It was the perfect girls weekend as Team Richmond (a self named group of displaced would be New York City Marathoners) landed at Katherine’s home.
After the race Meggie, Gia, Katherine and I had a daytime slumber party with lots of story telling, pizza, and laughs. It was the perfect prescription for washing away the stress of the last few weeks.
Good race or bad race this year was one for the books and this training season is finally coming to an end.
I’ve always said that marathon training allows me to learn things about myself I wouldn’t have otherwise. This year, eight years after I completed my last marathon, was no exception.