“Why do you run so many races?” Asks Chloe, a 26-year-old, former NCAA Division I middle-distance runner and trainer at Elite Fitness Training. I could tell she’d been dying to ask me this for a while, though she’d been unable to work all the judgment out of her voice in the time it took her to work up the nerve. “Wouldn’t you rather run a few races a year and run them well?”
I shrugged, as well as one can with a weighted barbell across her shoulders. “I do only run a few races a year that I care about. The rest are just training runs.”
“Yeah, but all those times are out there. I wouldn’t want those bad times associated with my name.” Says the woman who has a profile page on her University’s athletic department website.
“When was the last time you Googled me to study my race times?” I asked her.
“Well, never,” she admitted, sheepishly. “But still. Those times are out there.”
Indeed they are, I thought. But here’s the thing — for the small handful of people that will, in fact, Google my race times (you need something better to do), I expect one of three reactions: (1) wow, she’s slow; (2) wow, she’s fast; or (3) wow, we run practically the same pace. Such is life. You can’t wait until you’re the best at something to do it; and you can’t only do those things that you are the best at. There will always be someone better than you. And there will always be someone who is not impressed by whatever amazing feat you are accomplishing. I’ve learned not to get spun up about it; I’m going to do whatever makes me happy. With 40 races on the calendar in 2017, there are bound to be some slow times, but I don’t think there will be any “bad times.”
Why do I run so many races? Because I can. Because there is no more magical place on Earth than the start line of a race. And because I know the courage it to put myself out there will make me better in the long run.
The anticipation of the best experience ever. That’s what it feels like to stand at the start line of a race. Sometimes the anticipation is tranquil; like the the sun rising over the horizon. Other times it’s electric and, for a moment, you think you can actually see lighting pinging among the sea of competitors.
This year I will run 40 races to celebrate my 40th birthday, and I will support 40 other racers in stepping up to a start line of their own. My journey, and theirs, will be chronicled through this blog. I hope you’ll join me!
See you at the finish line.