The Mental Race

I vividly remember mile 12 of my first half marathon. Kelly Clarkson’s Stronger was on my iPod as I rounded the globe at Epcot. As I realized how close I was to finishing, to accomplishing my goal, I slowly became overwhelmed with emotion to the edge of tears. The feeling was indescribable. All of the hard work, the anticipation, had built to the moment I was about to experience – the finish.

Fast forward two months. Again I’m at mile 12 of a half marathon, the Iron Girl. But today is different. Today, I don’t know what is playing on my iPod. I don’t know where I am or what views surround me. I’m only wondering “where’s that damn finish line?” I’m beat; no, I’m defeated. But it’s not because my legs hurt, even though they did. It’s not because my stomach ached or my foot cramped, even though they did. It’s because my mind is broken.

Sure, I had a time goal for this race that I did not meet. And while that’s disappointing after two months of hard work, I’m okay with that…now. Injury and bridges alone would have made me lucky to finish even in the same time as my last race. What I’m not okay with, and why this race has haunted me since I ran it, is that my attitude failed me.

I set myself up for failure and then beat myself down when I failed. Going into the race, I had hopes of shaving about three minute from my last time. This was certainly a stretch to begin with considering the elevation of this course, but I felt I was up to the challenge. But when I injured my knee two weeks before race day, I never readjusted my expectations. I was injured to the point I questioned running it at all a mere four days prior, but never reevaluated my goal when I decided to run. Did I think injury didn’t really apply to me? Maybe.

Every mile that ticked by below goal pace set my mind racing. I was angry and screamed at my legs to move faster. They didn’t hear me. I was wondering if this was it, did I peak already (so melodramatic!). I was wondering if I should have pushed though the injury more in training. I was wondering if each consecutive mile would get slower and slower. I was thinking about everything else but the moment I was in. Negativity got to me and soon all I was hearing, seeing and feeling was the bad. I was being dragged down. I lost sight of the reason I run and I lost the enjoyment.

The clock certainly didn’t show a fail. But the point is that the clock doesn’t matter. I run for how it makes me feel – more mentally than physically. I know I’m physically capable, but there is a mental race to run. And in the Iron Girl half, I failed at the mental race. It’s harder for me to pick back up from a mental fail. But now is the time to learn from the experience, regroup and get the focus back.