The last time I wrote about running was when I failed to meet one of my 2017 goals – the goal of running 1000 miles. (I have completed 155 miles in 2018, so far.) When I wrote about that, I had completing my 10th half marathon (13.1 miles) during the Kentucky Derby Festival on my radar. I completed the race a few weeks ago and thought I would write my post-race thoughts to record the experience. Each training process is different. Each race is different. My body is different each time I race. Taking a few inhales and exhales as I move toward my next race makes sense.

Here is what I learned from the Kentucky Derby miniMarathon this year.

This Race Was Hard

Out of the many races I have run, this one was the hardest. This was the first race I walked. I completely walked the entire way. This was the first race where the street cleaners and sweepers had to ask me, and my dear patient friend who walked the race with me (who has two beautiful children under the age of six and had struggled to train as well or he would have burned the course up as he has in the past) to move to the sidewalk so they could reopen the street. This was the first race where talking about the beautiful weather, professional and personal triumphs and tragedies, the meaning of life, the existence of heaven or hell, and chanting the names of the people for whom we were running . . . all started before the end of the first 5k. The mental anguish ensued before the physical. At mile 10, my lower back felt like knives were carefully carving a path to my heart, and my feet were the size of watermelons. No joke. Luckily my dear patient friend knew the order of the streets on the route so we could directly, in a call and response fashion, follow the path to the Finish Line. It took us 4 hours and 11 minutes to finish the race. Experiencing this race made memories of easier races even sweeter.

Outrunning Cancer

I decided a month or so before the race to contact the race organizers and find an organization for which to fundraise. I chose an organization committed to supporting women living with cancer through collecting scarves, sharing stories, and funding research, Hope Scarves. I wanted to run for a reason. I wanted to make my race about something more than just personal accomplishment. I wanted to run to honor the friends and loved ones I have known whose lives have been touched by breast cancer. Simply understood, that number is too great now, and keeps growing at a heartbreaking rate. I went to pick up my race shirt (and the shirts of the team I had recruited to run the race for Hope Scarves, too) a few days before the race. I was completely overwhelmed by the loving embrace of the office when I entered. Light shone through the souls of every person there. I had the good fortune to talk with the founder, Lara, before going to Hope Scarves that day. (Here is a link to what I wrote about our earlier conversation.) She proved to be as graceful and committed, as were the people with whom she surrounds herself, as I could have ever imagined. Seeing their work in my mind’s eye during the race made all the difference. Hope Scarves raised over $70,000 during the race. It felt great to be part of such an important effort.

I Know The Deal

After many races, I know the deal. There is a direct relationship between training and performance. There is a direct relationship between preparation and execution. There is direct relationship between body, mind, and spirit. This race schooled me in all that. Over time, distance running has taught me that. Distance running has taught me the truth beneath the bumper sticker slogans that chide a message that sometimes makes me want to spit tacks. I now know that I get out of a race what I bring to it. It simply doesn’t have to be a hard as it was that day. Thank goodness.

You Don’t Have To Carry That Weight

When I was in Bali, a Balinese healer told me, “You don’t have to carry that pain.” He was speaking about all the pain we carry in our lives – spiritual, emotional, and physical- I think. This race reminded me of that. I weigh more right now than I ever have. I am returning to my “Just Watch Me” truth. This race was more painful than normal. More painful across the board. Finishing the race, with all the pain, convinced me that I never want to do that again. I don’t have to.

Equinox

The vernal equinox happened about a month before the race. This is a day of equal darkness and light around the world – a time of balance. Before my husband and I even came home, we joined a health club, Equinox. Equinox had recently opened up a few blocks from us in Miami. That seems fitting to me. It seems fitting for several reasons. I always use the Kentucky Derby as a time for resolution – a time for spring cleaning. Equinox is a perfect place to spring clean my body and mind. Also, returning to the notion of balance, Equinox can help me find new balance so that my next race will not be a tough as my last.

Onward.