Race Day.
It is the climax of all that you’ve been training for. It is the consolation for your sore muscles, deranged toe nails, and overworked bronchioles. It is a culmination of all your mileage, of every run you aimed for a certain distance or a specific pace. It is a celebration of every extra effort to peel yourself from a cozy couch. It’s RACE DAY and with that you have transformed into a different being.
You wake up hopefully feeling hydrated, because the day prior you downed liters of water despite your bladder telling you that it had had enough. You’re more awake than you should be at this godforsaken hour, surely more awake than if your destination was work. The race day nerves manifest in poor appetite, belly butterflies, ten bathroom trips for only one ounce of urine, and if you’re lucky a nice big poop! You get a little snack in and if you’re anything like me, a caffeine zealot, you obsess about drinking enough coffee but not too much, because your body doesn’t do well without it’s good morning juice but you know overdoing anything on race day can lead to that unwanted heaviness, an extra grumble in your tummy, or the cramp that cramps your pace. And then in the coolness of the morning, you join fellow runners crazy enough to be underdressed for the weather. You bounce and huddle. Your eyes admire everyone’s crazy cool running styles- some people wear tutus which would be overly complicated for you, some have knee-high socks and barely-cover-the-booty shorts. There’s neon colors galore, from the headbands that cuddle ears to the packs around wastes to the mud splattered shoes.
It’s race day. Your eyes are wide awake soaking up the first bits of sunshine, while your muscles, on the other hand, have only begun to yawn. So you do a little runner’s dance bouncing from one foot to the next while you wait for a porta potty to open up. Hundreds of people wait to occupy that snug and stinky box (only half of whom need to go, the other half just wanna try because there’s nothing good that comes with a full bladder or bowel while racing). You hope the potty will be stocked, but inevitably you’ll get the last sheet of TP and a drop of hand sanitizer if you’re lucky. You touch your toes here and there, you skip some high knees while you make your way to the start line, your shoulders move up and down, and your trunk twists right and left. “Warm up, you got this,” you give your body a pep talk. “I promise, this is the last time I make you wake up and run 13 miles for fun,” you lie.
Part of being a runner is preserving a little crazy, embracing a little race day mania, and surrounding yourself with people just as mad as you, so that you can joke about how much fun running 13 miles is gonna be... yes, joke about how excited you are to finish off that toe nail that hangs to only half of the nail bed, how excited you are to borderline freeze for the first mile so that you’re not overheating the next dozen, excited to stress your muscles to a uniquely euphoric exhaustion. Us runners, we’re a crazy bunch, but a bunch of crazies together makes for one heck of a time. It makes for words of encouragement from the stranger who huffs and puffs alongside you at mile 11 with a hill ahead, it’s makes for sincere joy as you cheer on the fellow runners crossing the finish line using up their last bit of glycogen stores to appear much faster than the previous 12 miles, it makes for an ecstasy inducing denouement to walk around standing tall with your shiny finisher’s medal posing for pics with your reindeer-red noses and dried sweat streaks decorating your face. Its huddling with your friends to stretch and snack and revisit each mile play-by-play with joy in each word. It’s all worth it. I’ve done it four times and I’ll do it another four for that natural high that only race day can bring, that sense of accomplishment by physically pushing yourself to its limits, that inner competitive ego that aims for personal bests and promises next time to shave off that extra minute here or there. Race day is intoxicating, so much so that you plan your next race before you’ve even finished this one.
The Glacier Half Marathon was no different, just a bit more exhilarating than usual. I mean except for the five mile incline right out the chute and the weatherman’s prediction of 100% chance of rain and <50 degree weather threatening hypothermic conditions for half naked runners, it was an unforgettable race day, my favorite race day yet. The Blackfeet Nation sent us off to the beat of their drums, and Mother Nature only sprinkled us at miles 6 and 8, and atop that 5 mile climb was breathtaking landscapes of a treasured National Park. It was the sound of eager feet on the paved road with nature playing harmony in the background. It was the smell of rain in the surrounding forest and fresh air permeating into the depths of your alveoli. The kind of air that you can’t find behind hospital doors. It was the feel of flying faster than you prepared to fly with the reserves that only race day can offer. It was the taste of a well deserved post race cappuccino juxtaposed with a crisp cup of water and electrolytes as you sit in the historic lodge with a century old railroad stop nearby. It was the sight of flourishing forests and crystal clear waters, the sight of runners of all shapes and ages prioritizing health, the sight of each mile marker zooming by becoming not only a memory but a conquered feat.
Race day is one of the biggest reasons I run. I mean I love the health implications and the stress reducing benefits, but when all is said and done it’s one of my favorite jubilation inducing methods. Race day is truly a celebration for your body and your mind, an appreciation for your health and endurance, and a procurement of a great sense of pride.
Thank you to all my running buddies who made training happen despite a hectic work schedule, especially Laura R. Thank you to Aaron who reminds me that I am indeed a good runner and celebrates my 76th place finish among 1,279 women as fervently as if I had won the olympics. Thank you Gary, (Laura K’s dad) for being our biggest fan at the finish line, keeping our bellies fed, and courageously wielding bear spray on our post-race hikes. Thank you, Glacier and Blackfeet Nation for bringing so much beauty and tranquility to race day. Thank you Laura K and Tami for being the brightest, most energized faces to wake up to at 3am, and for being lovers of nature and movement. Until next time...
