Goals and bumps in the road

Yesterday, I completed my eighth half marathon walking race.

3:05:31 to complete 21.1 kilometres.

I’ve always said, I hate training but I love finish lines. I’m not usually a fan of the actual race either.

I know, right? Why do it?

I do it for my heart, my lungs, my muscles, my brain, and, to be perfectly honest, my guilt. I like food. And not all of it good and not all of it in the right proportions. When I’m training, I am much better about my eating and hydrating.

And so, I train, and I race.

Someone asked why don’t you just exercise and not race?

I find a goal is the best way to keep me getting outside. The eternal optimism that if I train properly, I will improve my results and not have such a hell of a time during the race.

And by that, I mean mentally as much as physically. A half marathon is a physical challenge, but I struggle as much or more with the mental challenge. Without fail, at some point during a race, I start to beat myself up. I berate myself for those times I did not get outside to walk. I tell myself, I can’t do this. I start to figure out my escape hatch. Where will I bail? My wall is usually about 16 km in.

Then there came yesterday. I decided not to wear a watch. At about 11 km I asked Siri what time it was. At about 11 km, I had a moment.

I realized I was doing much better than my expected pace and I panicked. Weird, I know. Until that point, I’d simply been listening to my music and putting one foot in front of the other. But in that moment, I wanted to set new goals, try to beat old records.

And then, I stopped the mental mania and told myself, trust your training.

I slowed down in the second half of the race, settled back into a closer approximation of my training pace.

And I enjoyed the rest of the race in a way that was different than the previous seven races. I complimented myself at every kilometre. I enjoyed the beautiful day and the amazing scenery (I mean, the finish line was Niagara Falls, so yeah).

I did not break any records. I had my sixth best time.

And my best mental race ever.

Sadly, the stress of the past days and the strain on my body resulted in a rather hard physical crash – nausea and overwhelming fatigue. Thankfully, my personal cheer squad, hubby, was there to take care of me.

Not the planned way to end out my birthday but if nothing else, the past days have taught me, you have to adapt to what’s in front of you.

So, after the drive home, I showered, climbed into bed and slept.

This morning, I’m back at the bedside and ready to meet the challenges in the days ahead.

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