I
received this email four days before my first race back after surgery. I was already anxious about toeing the start
line. After almost a year away from
racing, I was uncertain about pacing and how I would handle the pain of a hard
effort. I knew I wasn't at the level of
fitness nor at the weight I wanted to be for racing. I thought a fun local 5k would be the most
stress-free way to begin my journey back to racing, until I read these hateful
words.
I was
having a tough week already, and this put me over the top. I couldn't stop crying for the next couple of hours (which is really embarrassing at a law office where there are only three
people working!). I was shocked and
hurt. This man had called me rude and
conceited, when I try really hard to be considerate and humble. Even worse, he said I wasn't a very good
runner, at a time when I am questioning my talent as an athlete and my ability
to return to competitive steepling.
I was
crushed and couldn't stop thinking about this email for the next couple
days. I knew my obsessive thoughts were
unnecessary. This man and his mean words
should have no influence on my well-being, but I couldn't shake that this
stranger had taken a stab where my ego was most vulnerable. I thought about not racing because I felt so
distracted.
But
after two days the pain had dulled, and I finally felt what I had been telling
myself all along: I try to be a good person; I didn't do anything wrong; and racing
is a celebration of hard work and having the courage to challenge
yourself. Racing is a testament to
friends, family, medical support, and coaches, who have supported you in your
journey. I've had many periods in my
life where I have been overwhelmed by the expectations, or my perceived
expectations, from others. In most
cases, the expectations have been for me to achieve high results. In a few cases, such as this man, people want
to see me fail. Either way, it can be
hard to let them go, even though intellectually I know these outside judgments
don’t matter.
As I stood
at the start line, I did have to face the man who had briefly shaken my
self-confidence. He was giving
commentary over the loudspeaker before the start of the race. He listed the elite athletes in the race and
their accomplishments. He didn't mention
my name, but I didn't care. I’m not
running to please anybody or to hear my name over a loudspeaker. I’m running for myself.