My past few weeks of training have been solid. The best I've had in a while, and I'm very thankful for that. Let's be clear, they haven't all been sunshine and rainbows - some were downright terrible. But each one made me stronger.
This is also the time of year that I'm just itching to race. I can't wait for triathlon season to start, for my favorite trail running series to start, family road trips and adventures. So...last Friday night when I had the opportunity to race indoor track, I figured why not? Javelin Daddy was already throwing, and my race would be right after. I was there anyways right?
Track races are not natural to me; in fact they scare the crap out of me. Plunk me in the middle of a road or trail run and I feel at home, comfortable and ready.
Heck you can even dump me off the coast of Alcatraz (one of my absolute favorite triathlon adventures) to race and I feel more comfortable than I do on a track. And that's saying something; I'm terrified of sharks and other creatures that may or may not be swimming beneath me.
I dabbled in track last year, and this year I will be adding more; but to say it's a strength of mine would be the exact opposite of truth.
Race day, last Friday night, came and I was excited and nervous all at the same time. While pizza and beer sounded like a much easier night, I knew that was most likely just the fear talking. First up, however, was to cheer on Javelin Daddy for throws. It was a huge flight - 16 throwers. Unfortunately Javelin Daddy did not have his best day, but I know it's still coming. I can't wait to watch him this summer - I have a feeling of good things to come!
Once throws were done and the dust settled I warmed up with my Littleman at my side on a very crowded track; legs feeling ok. I had the lap times in my head and knew what I needed to run to meet my goal.
I was late getting to the start (or at least late for name/number call) and forgot my hip number in my bag.
Oops. Still getting the hang of the timing ...
I was in the third heat of women so that let my nerves build up nicely for the start of my race. Just before the start I gave my Littleman a kiss, reminded myself of the times I wanted and prepared myself to be ready to hurt like hell.
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| What I'm looking at ... I have no idea? |
Race start:
The gun goes off and as I round the half way mark of my first lap I can already tell I'm out way too fast. I check the time coming through the 200m mark and have two simultaneous thoughts:
1) "OH crap, I'm going to seriously suffer, I went out way too fast!"
2) "But if I hold this pace ... OH the possibilities!!"
I often argue with myself when I race.
As I came around for lap 2 I knew I was in trouble, but was still ahead of pace. "Ok" I'm thinking, "Just hold this pace, hold this pace". Lap 3 hurt, it was ugly. I was just trying to survive. On lap 4 I could hear my husband and Littleman yelling at me to pick it up - the only sounds I could hear in a pavilion full of people screaming and an announcer calling the play-by-play.
"Pick it up, pick it up..." The only words I kept saying to myself over and over, "pick, it, up". As I rounded my final corner and came down the home stretch I saw the time. I was fixated on it as I tried to push through the final 30m. At the finish my lungs burned, my throat was on fire but I beat my goal time by 2 seconds. YESSSSS!
After the race I did get my pizza and beer, and boy oh boy did it ever taste good! Getting out of your comfort zone, doing things you don't normally do is a good thing - I can't wait to do more of it as 2016 unfolds!
