I came. I steepled. I survived.

I wish I was exposed to track when I was a kid, but I just wasn't. I played sports, but they were team ones: soccer and basketball were my thing. Track and field was never even on the menu.

My running passion started in University with triathlon, Ironman mostly, and grew from there. Over the years since (which have been many...) that passion has only grown. Both from the love of being a spectator and the fire that ignites with being a competitor.   

 IMCanada 2002 - Heading out on the run

My training and racing over the most recent years has become *a little* wiser; I hope. I am I taking chances and trying new distances or events that I never did in my "younger" years in hopes to keep improving into my future ones. I'm playing with pacing on roads, trails and most recently the track.

A few Friday's ago I had my most unfamiliar race to date: steeple chase.

Pre-race thoughts: yah, I can jump this

I toed the line with a bunch of ladies who looked at me behind my sunglasses trying to guess my age. Let's just say I was older, much older.  

The gun went off and away I went. Steeples wear on you; you think pacing is going ok, but legs get heavier and heavier with each steeple. And I swear the steeples got taller. Steeple chase is an event that requires some serious respect; and I love that about it.

Did I survive my steeple race? You bet I did. Do I need to work on my steeple technique? Oh yes. Will I do another one - you bet! I learned a new way to experience pain, and I really, really enjoyed it.

Finish line hugs: no better feeling!

Vertical again - pain face.
Loved every minute of it!