Trying to Be Cool
Don’t panic. I pride myself on being pretty cool and collected in stressful situations. My mind immediately jumps to problem solving and finding a solution. It’s an aspect of ultra running and FKTing I’m drawn to. If a race comes down to pure speed or brute strength, eh, I might tell you to bet on someone else. But when I think back to some situations where I was scared or frustrated, like having a run-in with a bear (AT in NC), getting lost in the woods at night (AT in NY), crossing a deep pool of water on the Pinhoti Trail, navigating around flooded lakes on steep embankments (also Pinhoti Trail)… I like to give myself a pat on the back for not completely freaking out.
Which brings me to wonder why in the world I had a near meltdown after some directional snafus in a race I ran this past weekend. Some friends and I signed up for a half marathon together a few months back. As I’ve been on the up-and-up running regularly again post-Colorado, I thought of how this would be a great fitness check and workout, and a fun opportunity to run somewhere new and have a good time with friends.
It was a very warm, humid day out by the ocean in Plymouth, MA. It was the kind of race you’d want to run by feel and adjust expectations for, given the conditions. No prob! I was all smiles at the start, and went out at a comfortable pace, feeling excited to see what I could do. It’s so rare now that I run road races, and I found myself enjoying playing around with pace and strategy. I was passed by many people in the first mile or two, then I started to settle in and find my sweet spot. Light and quick, though still conserving quite a bit.
A group of ladies formed around me, some of whom were running the 10K, which had started at the same time. At first I let them go, not wanting to get too caught up in a faster pace than I could manage. But after a quarter mile or so, I realized they were no longer pulling away, and I was really only about ten or twenty feet behind them, so I picked up my pace slightly and tucked right in with them. It felt so exciting, running with a group of women like that. I imagined I was in the lead pack at a major marathon with television crews all around, the runners and I sticking together, running swiftly yet patiently, waiting to see who might make the next move.
As we went on, we noticed that our watches consistently didn’t match up with the mile markers by about 3/4 of a mile. We deduced that there was a turn that should have been made early into the race, and the entire field had been misdirected from the start. This was a bummer to realize, as it meant we’d be running an approximate 12.4 mile race versus a true half marathon. But it honestly didn’t bother me much. I quickly pivoted from the mindset of, “Let’s see how fast I can run a half marathon!” to “How high up can I place in a 12.4 mile race?”
I found myself shortening my stride to match the pace of my group, which made me feel confident in making a little move and darting ahead. No one went with me. The next mile or so I just focused on keeping my breathing calm and in check, and found a happy rhythm. Though I was no longer with the pack of women, there were plenty of runners ahead of and behind me.
So far we had made one big loop. We ran past the original start line, then approached what appeared to be the point where the 10K runners and half marathoners split off from each other. A race official was shouting for 10K runners to turn left. I called out, “Half marathon??” And they responded, “10K LEFT!!!” So a group of half marathoners and I proceeded to the right. As we continued along, maybe after a half mile or so, it became apparent that the road was not closed for the race as there was traffic up and down both lanes. We wondered whether we were still on the course, and as we continued along it became pretty clear that we weren’t. So collectively, we decided to turn back and retrace our steps.
This is when I started to panic. I had felt so excited about competing, and now I didn’t know where I even was in relation to the course. I started to majorly pick up my pace while feeling very stressed and frustrated, and I desperately wanted to get back on track. We ran all the way back to where the turnoff point was for the 10K runners, and learned that the half marathoners were actually supposed to have turned there too.
It was a relief to know we were back on the course, but now we were so far behind our initial positions. As I ran past the next two mile marks, I calculated that my little group had added on 1.1 miles. There’s no way I could make up that much ground to get back to the position I was in. I then noticed my breathing and heart rate were absolutely out of control. I had been running so much faster those last couple miles, first from feeling panicked about getting lost, and then from wanting to make up some ground, but the race was barely halfway over! I essentially shot myself in the foot by using up so much energy.
I think I was experiencing some actual denial of what the situation was. I was a mile behind where I could have been, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Whereas earlier I had felt so easy breezy and totally in the driver’s seat of my own race, I now had zero control. Attempting to make up for that much lost time was futile. You can’t suddenly make up seven minutes midway through a half marathon.
Reality sunk in, and now my task was to salvage the rest of this race. I had completely gassed myself after panicking and speeding up trying to make up for lost time. How could I find my happy place again? I wasn’t sure that I could. I was mad. I slowed my pace way down, but still my breathing was out of control. Did I just have a panic attack, for real? And why in the world did I have that reaction, on an occasion that was meant to be for fun, and just as a little fitness check? A wrong turn wasn’t going to be prevent me from getting in a great run. It wasn’t logical.
The remainder of the race took place mostly on beautiful, rolling country roads. I still had five or so miles to go. I had used up so much mental and physical energy, the rest of the race I did my best to just breathe, relax, take a chill pill, and finish the thing.
Approaching mile mark 12 (so ~11.25 miles for the majority of runners, ~12.35 miles for me and my group that had gotten off track), runners were being diverted from the original course once again, this time intentionally. The race officials had come up with a solution to add on a one mile loop to the course, that way participants could make up for the 3/4 miles lost in the beginning, and guarantee that they’d run a true half marathon. Since I’d already added on 1.1 miles myself with my second wrong turn, I smiled and said “No, thank you!” and continued on to the finish. I appreciated that they found a way to literally course correct, but I was ready to be done. It turned out that that time-wise I finished third for women, though I did not collect a prize, and I let the race organization know what had happened. While I likely ran 0.1 miles further than the other women, it was not the same course as everyone else, so I would understand receiving a DNF / having my result removed.
Mistakes happen, and when they do, it’s on us to decide how we react and roll with the punches. I had gone into this race expecting a fitness check, but it turns out maybe what I needed was a “how to handle adversity” check!
Adding more stress will never help a stressful situation, though that’s easier said than done. As I’m kicking off the school year and my workload is growing, it’s hard to shake the low-key stress that always seems to be humming in the background. There’s always more I could be doing. It will literally never be enough, because there’s always room for improvement. I can’t control how many hours there are in a day, though I can choose how to fill them (and accept that it is enough!). And when I sit down at the piano or toe the line at a race, gosh anything could happen, but the great thing is that it’s not the end-all. It’s one performance of many. We learn, then we keep going.
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