I am a cross country runner
11 10 2008I go to bed at 8:30 every Friday night.
I wake up before the sun to go running every morning.
I can’t party on weekends because I have meets.
I know what anaerobic and lactate threshold work outs are… and shudder at the words.
I love Body Glide.
I have a name for every pair of shoes I wear, and know how much they each weigh.
I know the mileage on all my shoes but not on my car.
I know how it feels to be numb, sweating, sore, and freezing cold all at once.
I eat GU for breakfast.
I use the metric system when I talk about distance.
I know the average pace of the top girls at all the local colleges.
I eat more than 60% of my daily calories in carbs and laugh at Atkins dieters.
I own literally 5 times as many sports bras as normal bras.
I hate tracks.
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I just finished my meet. I took 13th of 53! I’m pretty happy with that, considering I’ve been sick all week, I’ve only been running cross country for 3 months, and I was the youngest person on that course by at least 2 years, I’m sure. I don’t know my time yet, but I know it wasn’t my best. I hit the 2nd mile and was praying that God would throw a rock in the path so I could break something and be carried out. He laughed at me and said, “Hell no. You’re finishing this race, sucker.” (Those words
, too.)
Also, today just emphasized the fact that running is 95% mental.
What goes through my mind while racing:
“I think I started out too fast.
That girl is just asking to be passed…
Dang it, who just passed me?
She isn’t gonna get away with that.
Don’t lose sight of her.
Oh, there she goes.
Bye chick.
Okay, next person.
Gotta get ready for that hill comin’ up.
Did I warm up long enough?
Maybe it was too long.
Oh, that girl’s slowing down.
She’s next on my list.
Dang.
How many miles left?
Not going to think about that…”
So that’s just the first half mile.
Halfway through the race:
“Why am I doing this?
Why do I run?
I don’t have to be a cross country runner.
I don’t have to be out here.
Aw crap, that other stupid hill is coming up.
I could slow down just a little couldn’t I?
30 seconds added to my time wouldn’t kill me.
Yes, it would.
30 seconds off my time would kill me, too.
Oh my gosh, this hill is going to kill me.
I’m just going to pass out, I know it.
Maybe if I trip over that rock up there and break my leg.
Would I be carried out?
Please let them carry me out.
Dang it, I passed the rock.
I guess I have to finish this hill.
”
The last half mile:
“How the hell am I supposed to finish this?
God, why am I here?
Oh God help me.
I can’t breathe.
My quads hurt.
My calves are tearing, I feel it.
My knee caps are just going to pop off.
I can’t keep running.
It’s too far.
It’s too fast.
I need to slow down.
I can’t slow down, the girl behind me will pass me.
Crap, I need to pass that girl up there, too.
No way in hell I can.
I’m going to die.
I’m just going to flat out die.
Maybe they’ll bury me on the cross country course.
That’s stupid.
I can’t do this.
I need to stop and walk.
Who the hell walks in a cross country race??
What’s wrong with me?
Keep running.
Holy crap, I’m going to pass her!
Damn hill.
God save me.
”
And I still finished. No way.
Workout:
- Type: Run
- Date: 10/11/2008
- Time: 14:23:06
- Total Time: 00:23:04.00
- Calories: 310
- Distance: 3.11 miles
- Average Pace: 7:25.54/mile
I was on the XC team at my H.S. all 4 years. It’s funny to read someone else’s thoughts during a run. I can’t tell you how many time I have had some of the same thoughts.
It amusing to look back and remember the need to push on but the desire to die. That’s one thing I do miss about competing. I really enjoyed reading your post!
i never thought of naming my shoes . . . but that’s a really good idea. are yours masculine or feminine, and why?