Middle Distance Chronicles Pt. II

After a grueling meet with sub-par performances, coach decided to have a meeting with us.

Oh the dreaded post-race talk.

Within his rant, he mentioned something worthwhile. "As you get older, it becomes less about how you feel and more about what you have to do."

It was a little confounding and a bit disheartening. So our feelings don't matter? If my leg is about to fall off and I tell you I feel terrible, it doesn't matter? I must numb all of what I feel and toss it away? You don't care?

I was being dramatic.

It was only today I realized what he meant. Knowing how Tuesdays normally are, I didn't quite brace myself emotionally to deal with today's strenuous workout. I dragged myself through the day, dreading the events to come. Tried warming up but never really getting to top speed. Slight ailments rearing their ugly heads and the little aches and pains creeping up on me. I felt terrible. It was to be one of those "today, you're going to find out something about yourself" kind of workouts. Today, I did.

However, it didn't have to take me being sprawled out on the track yelping in pain or my lunch paying me an untimely visit. It was reflected in how I ran.

I decided from the jump "Well, I'm not feeling well so I'm just going to drag my body around the track and act like I've done my best." When I finished, I was close to tears. Not from pain. But from utter disappointment. When did I start losing my heart? When did I decide that bullshitting is okay? I got too caught up playing victim. Telling myself that this whole middle distance thing was new and hard and that I can't get over it. I was too used to being at a disadvantage, struggling from the back. The underdog. That felt like my place, until I'd shift a gear and miraculously win from behind. Or in my head I did. But now I was letting the race run away from me.

Attitude check. I had one today. Every practice is a game of meters, another opportunity to get an upperhand. Not being fully engaged in practice is a loss of meters, precious seconds that tell the difference between first and second place.

"If I only had five more meters."

I may have been the fifty-four second quarter miler before, but that's nothing now. Memories won't get me to where I need to be. My high-school medals and rings are just shining dimly in a corner back home. Those won't get me anywhere. Hard work will. I could apologize all I want for giving crap but it'd better be to myself because that's who I'm hurting. I could cry all the tears but that alone won't turn me into runner I want to be. 

So, while it's still hard dealing with the still-relatively new life of mid-D, it is (and has been) time to get over it. Get over it. Leave it on the track. Anger, hurt, frustration. Leave it on the track. We have our goals, now go get them. Let what you feel be the fuel for what you want to achieve.