Finally giving in to the negative voices that have come crashing into my head (no positive affirmations were going to help me today!), I come to a stop and pull out the directions the coach had provided before we left for the run. They might as well have been written in a foreign language. They made no sense to me when he handed them out, and I find them equally unhelpful now that I’m officially lost. At this point, I’m just hoping I can find my way back to my car in a reasonable amount of time without having to backtrack the entire route, adding many more miles to my already long and oh-so-pleasant journey.
If only I was familiar with the area we were running around. I’m certain there would be a shortcut back – if only I knew where the heck I was.
And why didn’t I carry my cell phone? Stupid. Stupid! I could have called someone to come pick me up and just drive me back to my car. At this point, the embarrassment of hitching a ride back wouldn’t be any worse than it already is, and at least the rest of the team wouldn’t be stuck waiting for me to return to the start.
I look up from my directions to see the coach’s wife running back toward me. Please, say it isn’t so. I wave and smile. And wish the woods would swallow me up whole.
I’m officially a search and rescue mission.
That’s pretty awesome for the self confidence! Well, to look on the bright side, at least she’ll know the fastest way back to my car, right? I start running again with the coach’s wife back to the start. I’m moving so slowly there’s no doubt in my mind that sweet old ladies in walkers could have passed me with ease. When we return to the start, half the team is still there chatting. Waiting. We get cheers and high fives when we return. I roll my eyes, hang my head, and wish I was invisible.
I assess the damage to myself as I suck down a huge cup of Gatorade. I have half a dozen mosquito bites, a sore ankle thanks to two stumbles on the wooded trail, I’m still trying to cough up the bug I swallowed as I gasped for air along the way, and any confidence I had that I would ever be able to complete a 1/2 marathon has been completely shattered.
I finish the Gatorade and wave goodbye to the few team members still in the parking lot. It’s been fun getting to know them for the last couple weeks, but I’m not able to complete this adventure. I’m sure of it. I’ll send them all an email tonight to say goodbye and wish them luck in their events this Fall. I feel silly for ever even thinking I could actually do this. I turn toward my car when a voice calls me back. “How did you feel today?” asks the coach.
“Not so great,” I reply. The agony of defeat is clear in my tone.
” Really?” he asks. “Did anyone have to carry you to the finish?”
“No.”
“Did you need a wheelchair?”
“No.”
“Did you finish today on your own two feet?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” he says, a kind smile spreading across his face, “it sounds to me like you had a pretty successful run today!”
I shrug, then I smile. Yeah, I guess after all of that, maybe I did have a pretty successful run today. Sure, it wasn’t my fastest run. It certainly wasn’t my proudest training moment. But I still finished my longest mileage ever, on my own two feet.
Maybe it wasn’t that awful after all.
Yeah, I’ll be back out on the road, training strong on Monday, and even facing two more team runs next week, including a 6 mile run next Saturday. I can definitely do this and can’t wait to prove it to myself in September!
Keep on running!
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