It still gets my adrenaline pumping. The notification of a road race on the horizon. That guttural feeling, the angst, the anticipation and the thrill of being trained hard enough and proper fly enough to finish in the to 10%, to bear down and win my age group. The Thanksgving Day Race, the Jingle Bell Jog, the Heart Mini Marathon, and the Flying Pig.
I trained to win. Or to at least make a showing. I mean, why else do it, right?
I used to marvel at, and be somewhat envious of, the girlfriends who would show up together at the races, giggling, and wiping hair out of their eyes as the wind blew during the wait for the start. Their cute little kids and handsome husbands standing with them, lattes and hot chocolates in hand. Cute outfits, too. All the accoutrements, including headphones and water belts. Not a nervous bone in their cute little fit bodies.
Me?
Insanely going over my plan of attack in my head. Which mile do I take it out? Deciphering every hill and valley in my memory, knowing when to turn it on, when to back off just a little for the best effect and outcome. Where should I start? It’s a chip race now, so a time is a time is a time, but I don’t want to have to weave too much through the masses at the gun, costing me valuable seconds and more aggravation. (“Like what in the hell is she thinking starting so close to the front??? How annoying!!!!!”)
There’s no time for fun. If I wanted fun, I just would have woken up at my usual 4:30 am and run in the damn neighborhood, for crying out loud. I’m here for a reason.
LOL.
I loved the old me. I really did. And I still do. I revel in my thrill of competition , and admire my spirit now from afar, like watching myself on and old home move. Where did I go? What has become of “Jen The Runner”?
Well, I’ve discovered she’s still here. Only …tempered a bit.
Life gets in the way, or better put…Life happens and turns down many streets and up many hills, and saunters down a slope or two. Life’s partner, Age, has a lasting effect as well. It’s just how it happens. The evil enemy of the two, Injury, has a spat or two or three or more, with Life and Age, and the three battle it out.
And what’s left is … Jen The Runner…has now become Jen Who Runs.
I’m not going to lie and say it is easy to just become “Someone Who Runs”, because I still have it in my head tot are off and go for it, to try my best. But now my best is a far cry off what it used to be. And that’s something I just need to come to terms with. And I am, little by little.
Now, all I need is a girlfriend to call me and say “Hey, Jen…are you doing the race next weekend? No? Not yet signed up? Will you do it with me? We can drive down together!!! It’ll be fun!!!”
Maybe we can get a latte.
jensumandthensome 