happiest race on earth?
Ok, it’s been a few businesses and identities since I’ve written a race report… is this what this is? Do I still do those? Breaking down expos, corrals, mile and mile splits as if anyone cares? No, she does not my friends! But she does search her heart for what a particular situation, event, or circumstance has to teach her and she shares THAT, so buckle up.
This past weekend, Sebi and I got to participate in the inaugural Disneyland Halloween Race Weekend - my first Disney race since the Goofy Weekend with Matt in 2013, a core memory of mine that came flooding back all weekend - and Sebi’s first, obvi. These are some of the best races in terms of organization and details, if you can get in, and by fluke (if you consider being online right when registration starts, with 2 of your besties also logged in as you in different time zones to up your chances of getting in a fluke), we both did.
The kids race was the absolute best. Seeing Sebi relate to the race theme, his pride in finishing it by himself, his wearing his medal and race shirt (3 days in a row), his awe at getting FRUIT CHEWS as a SNACK at the end of the RACE (“Can we do more races, Mama?”) was truly adorable. Also, because he’s at the stage where everything sticks and he’s learning faster than ever, hearing him repeat things like “I got my bib at the Expo” as if he’s the consummate racing pro, made me chuckle.
My race? Oof. It was possibly the hardest 1/2 marathon I’ve done. And 82/82 in terms of pace - this was officially my slowest one. I almost didn’t start. I almost DNF’ed a handful of times. I went into the race with a heavy heart - a place my heart has occupied lately with life changes. I toed the line feeling the effects of a week of 110 degree heat, dehydration, sleep deprivation. I honestly am not sure how I crossed that finish line but as we somehow always do, I did.
It’s that one step at a time. This trust in my feet and the rhythm that I’ve had off and on for 15 ish years. The meditative sound of breath and footfall. I knew the first 8km would be distraction filled and sweet as we run through Disney, so I told myself I’d run those and then maybe call it when we entered the long Anaheim roads. Almost as if giving myself pre-permission to stop would make that call easy when that time arrived.
It felt like we were running through a swamp. Not just sweaty but soaked and chafing early on. I wasn’t getting lost in any of the miles like often happens. By the time we got into Anaheim, I managed my energy in my stride by slowing way down, almost a little shuffle, to do my best to not cramp/collapse at the end with the heat/humidity. I was there alone, no one at the finish line, and needed to drive back to LA and chase Sebi around, so I had to be smart about it.
The time on my watch was moving but it seemed like the mileage wasn’t. It was one of those races where you negotiate each little thing - get to the next km, the next mile marker, the next water station. And chipped away, I did. Until here we were, at the end. It didn’t feel like the best feeling ever to cross that finish line, nor did it feel anti-climactic. It felt, as it was. An accomplishment. A feat. And also, with an acceptance to be just okay with that.
The big aha was as I was walking through the chute at the end and leaving the race. I had a 2km walk back to the hotel. I moved slowly, gingerly. I was still very aware of how I felt - emotionally, physically, mentally. I was… present. I had been for most of the race. It might not have been the kind of presence that makes the miles fly by, but I was present and showing up to myself as I was (the very thing I ask of my students, day in and day out). I was as I showered, stretched, and decompressed for a bit. In order to be this present, I had to be slow. And slow felt really good. I kept that pace into the rest of my day. It felt forgiving. And necessary. So maybe it wasn’t my slowest 13.1 but rather, one of my slowest days. A very different kind of PR in my world.