It's Not All About the PR

Saturday marked the anniversary of my first half marathon, and I'm kind of amazed it's only been a year since I made my debut as a distance runner. A lot has changed in the past year: about 1,000 miles have been logged, races of all distances run, personal bests set and all types of offical runner gear acquired to make me feel and look legit. I've had my fair share of strains, pulls and tweaks and endured set-backs, disappointing runs and times when I just wanted to give up. But, there also have been those moments of triumph, like, running in the pouring rain because, well, I had to and lacing up my shoes despite the nagging hamstring pain that would have caused others to quit. Running has instilled in me a sense of responsibility that I've never had before. I am hopelessly devoted to my running plans, so much so that I will make up a quarter of a mile on a later run if I have to short change an earlier run in the week. I like to be precise. And accountable. But, despite my "Type A" approach to running, my training for the Kentucky Derby miniMarathon this year was anything but. You see, after running my first full marathon in early March, I wanted to do anything but run. Not because I was injured or bored; I was just behind on life! I mean, when you take half a weekend day to do a long run every weekend for months, and run 30-40 miles a week with two kids and a husband, things eventually pile up. So, after the full marathon, I tossed aside all running plans and went rogue. I ran when I felt like it and did enough long runs to patch me through to the half this past weekend. When I compare how I approached this same race last year to this year, it's like night and day. This year, I hoped my full marathon training would carry me through. It did. I didn't obsess over the weather like I did last year. In fact, the first time I checked it was two days before. I decided on what to wear the day before whereas last year, I had my outfit selected weeks prior. I have a routine now, whether it be for small races or big ones, of what to do the night before and morning of a race. It's comfortable. Last year, I knew exactly where to expect to see Brad along the course and had fluids prepared for him to hand me. He had t-shirts prepared and signs saying "Run Sarah Run." This year I thought I'd see him sometime around mile 4. It was closer to 5, actually. And the other expected viewing point was mile 10. I never saw him. He never saw me, maybe because he was at mile 11....on the other side of the street....and for a while he thought I was dead until I borrowed a stranger's phone in the "runners' reunite" area and called him. If we had only made a plan! Last year, I crossed the start line nervously thinking, "I can't believe I'm about to run 13.1 miles." This year, I really wasn't thinking about much except getting through the crowd. I was focused. Despite my lack of preparation in comparison to other races, this race that I approached with "no expectations" turned out pretty much as I expected. I didn't PR; missed it by 62 seconds, in fact. But I ran the course 2:15 faster than last year, which I'll take. And, I did that with a hamstring strain at mile 7. I'm not too sore two days out, which is a big improvement over other races. After the St. Jude half marathon, which I ran in December 2011, I was sore from head to toe for an entire week. And, I only ran that at an effort 9 seconds faster per mile than Saturday's race. Just about the only thing in common was the argument Brad and I had the night before about transportation race morning. I get very anxious about traffic, parking, etc. Or, maybe it's just my nerves surfacing in a roundabout way. In general, my entire approach to racing and running has transformed in a year. I believe in myself. When I was a little girl, I always wanted to be good at something. Finally, I am. And, not because of how fast I run, but because I stick with it. I feel like I can call myself a real runner. I'm a marathoner! But there are always new things to be learned, even though my learning curve isn't as steep as a year ago. Here's what this race taught me: * Get to the start line of an 18,000-person race sooner. I missed starting with my pace group because of being late. Well, I wasn't late. I was using the bathroom, which is pretty important, too, especially if you have any clue what my bowels are like on race morning! * Scowl at participants whose bibs say corral "F" but start in corral "B". There is a waved start FOR A REASON! Please, don't start your 16-minute-mile pace when I'm trying to run twice as fast as that. Please. Pretty please. With a cherry on top? * Have a sense of humor, especially when running past a man whose entire rear end is hanging out of his running shorts, which are designed to cover - not show - his backside! * Always encourage runners going the distance. I tried to say "Good Luck" to as many marathoners as I could, especially the women. It's a seriously long distance, people. * Remember to be grateful for my health and ability to run. I passed a woman, on a stretcher, about my age. She was on oxygen being loaded into an ambulance. Her friend was crossing right in front of me as I ran by and I touched her on the shoulder and said, "I hope she's okay." I knew I wasn't going to PR at that point but really didn't care; I was happy to be alive and well. * Soak in the experience as much as possible by giving high fives, waving at the crowds, thanking volunteers, etc. So many people are needed to make races possible. It's like runners are the guests and the spectators and volunteers are the hosts. We should always thank our hosts. * And, to always have fun. That's easy to do. My next big race will be the St. Jude Marathon. I plan on running the full to show I can do it without stopping in eight different porta-potties. That'll take a lot of Imodium. I'll keep my mileage up this summer, enjoy my rogue status a little longer, and then get back on track in August. Until then, happy trails!