Myriad Excuses for Not Racing Well

I have two half marathons coming up this spring, one in less than three weeks. Yesterday I received my bib number and wave/corral information for the NYC Half. For those of you who are reading this who are NOT running obsessed, waves and corrals are assigned by estimated pace so that similarly-paced runners are grouped together. For everyone, it avoids the stumbling and tripping that would inevitably otherwise occur and gives each runner a chance at his or her own best race.

NYC Half is a glorious race. I ran it once before, about three years ago. It is a single loop around Central Park. And then the huge mass of runners—about 25K, I'm guessing—break out of the tree-shaded park into the open air of Times Square and down along the Hudson River to lower Manhattan. There are lots of bands playing and spectators cheering. Last time I ran it, grateful tears welled up as I hit the carless streets of Manhattan, free and flying south. An added perk is the proximity of Chinatown and dim sum post-race.

So yesterday, my bib and wave notification put me in the 3rd wave, 8th corral back. It was amazing the devastation—and sense of failure—I felt. Despite the fact that I qualified for this race with my most recent marathon time, it seemed confirmation of my eternal "newbie" runner status. The day before I had been thinking that, while I've been running well recently, I had not raced, had not carefully tracked my training or developed a training plan for spring races, and had not yet gotten my head around the fact that I was racing soon, let alone formulating a race day strategy. Hell, I haven't even looked at a calendar to see when my taper begins. 

THIS is how my race day jitters manifest. The unworthiness. The excuses so easily created for a race not well run.

Today's post is really, then, another "I love racing" post. I have learned over the years that my brain can be corralled into believing anything I force it to believe. So, here goes. I was assured by NYRR this morning that my bib issue would be resolved and a new wave assigned. I will run this evening and calm my running-starved brain. On a calendar I will plot my runs and taper. I will check the weather and think about what I will wear. I will sit quietly this evening and chunk the course into manageable bits that make sense for the six miles of rolling hills followed by seven miles of flat. 

And I will remind myself every time doubt creeps in that that I am no longer a beginner and I am tough, fearless, and love racing.