A month ago, I called my sister frantic. “Jennifer (that’s her name), I can’t run a 10k, I don’t even have time to train. I just had a baby!” I’ll never win.” She hung on to my last complaint and said, “But, Jessica, this isn’t a competition. This is YOUR race.”
It was one of those moments, where you are panic about something so much that you feel too full to think of anything else. But then you do think of something else, when someone directs your mind elsewhere.
This is MY race. Yes, that’s it. That thought, that idea was power for me. It changed how I trained, how I felt about my inability to really train in a way that a “good” runner should. It changed how I mothered, how I blogged, how I…lived.
Today I ran my 10k. I ran my race. There were 4,000 women and some men registered for this race. And while at times I was mindful of those many other bodies and voices and racers, mostly I wasn’t. I ran at my own pace. I ran fast sometimes, sometimes slow. I ran up hills and down hills. And some points, I walked. I looked around at the bay, at the stores in the city we passed, at the volunteers, at the sky, and the finish line.
And I did it.
My time: 1 hour and 3 minutes.
This time makes me proud but if it had been anything else, I still would have been proud. I did this. Like giving birth, this feeling of strength was real and powerful and now leaves me hungering for more.
This was MY race. And I did it!
I don’t have a question today. I just want to say thank you to all who congratulated me on my race today and to all who supported me in the months leading up to this day. I am very much appreciative of you all!