I know some of you are injured, under the weather or otherwise just nervous. So, I want to tell you about MY RNR experience last year.
I was exhausted leading up to it. And I had not trained as much as I should have. Two years before I had run RNR alone in 2 hours and 12 minutes.
The day started out poorly when I found myself waiting to get picked up at my house by my teammates. Meanwhile they were waiting for me at my office ( a brilliant plan hatched by none other than moi)
The whole way into the city, I complained in my head. I thought I would be crawling to the finish line. It was not going to be pretty. Why was I doing this anyway??
We had a huge Team CMMD representation at RNR that year. Most of us started together and then after a while some took off and some lagged behind. But Leigh, Elaine, Rob, Melissa and I hung together.
It was a beautiful, cool day. The music and spirit were amazing. We laughed until we cried when one of us tried to ass-slap a stranger that was about 6’4″ tall and looked more like she was getting ready to serve a volley ball. He was a good sport and took it in stride.
It was a nice run until around mile seven when my phone rang three consecutive times and I finally gave in and called in a refill for a patient–while running in the half-marathon. Melissa, a pharmacist, and I laughed and laughed at the insanity of being in health care sometimes.
Then it all crashed for me at mile 12.1. I just stopped.
My legs wouldn’t work, I couldn’t breathe. Despite literally seeing the finish line ahead, I had not one more ounce of energy in me. So, I did what any self-loathing wanna-be runner would do. I stopped, sat on the curb and began to cry.
But, my team listed above, would have none of it. They gathered around like mother hens, put loving hands on my shoulders, looked down on me gently and in one voice said “QUIT YOUR CRYING AND GET YOUR ASS UP BITCH–YOU. HAVE. GOT. THIS.”
So guess what I did? I got my cryin’ ass up. And finish the race I did.
Once we crossed the finish line, we wandered over to get our medals engraved. My time: 2 hours and 19 minutes and 45 seconds -nearly 8 minutes slower than my first half-marathon time but here is the best part.
When we compared times on those metals? ALL of those mother hens had the exact same time as me–to the split second. They could have finished ahead of me==but they didn’t.
Be tired. Be sick. Be injured. Cry a little even. But in the end, make sure you are surrounded by people who will pull you out of your funk by any means necessary. Even it seems harsh. Because, those very same people will be right by your side till the end.
Come to think of it, that’s a good lesson for your race…and your life.