The women’s invitational steeplechase at the Mt. SAC Relays took place Friday night. It was a loaded field, as you can see from the results. I knew that I was ready to run better than I had at Stanford two weeks ago but just how much better was the question. And with such an impressive list of competitors, there is always the fear of being embarrassed off the track. Earlier in the day, my mind kept flashing back to the last couple of times I’d raced at Mt. SAC. In 2005, my first year as a pro, I opened the season there and ran 10:33.75 for 14th place. In a race like that, especially coming off a season where I had set an American Record in this event, to say it was embarrassing is an understatement. In 2007, last year, I opened there again and DNF’d with a lap and a half left because the time I was on pace to run was going to be so embarrassing, I didn’t want to see it listed next to my name in the results.
So this year needed to be different. You would think I should have been thinking more positively and trying not to dwell on past failures, but thinking about those terrible races really got my blood boiling. They made me cringe thinking about them, and I wanted to erase them from my name. I wanted to go out there and show that I was back, the real me was back, and she is not the runner you’ve seen her as for the past few years.
You know how sometimes you don’t really want to race? You wouldn’t mind if the meet was called off because of a thunderstorm or something? Or you broke your ankle warming up? I wanted to run this race. I couldn’t wait for it to start. I was hungry.
The gun was fired and off we went. After a lap or two, I realized I was hanging on to the back of the lead pack and I felt comfortable there, as though I belonged. I had forgotten what that felt like; to belong there and to not just be hanging on for dear life. I stopped looking at the clock every lap. Instead I would check it every few laps and I knew we were under 10-minute pace. And it felt….right.
With about 1000m to go, the leaders began to pull ahead and the lead pack strung out. I stayed at the back, like I thought I should. I was so grateful just to be there that I didn’t even consider moving up yet. With under two laps to go, as I was starting to coast, satisfied with my sub-10-minute pace and how good I felt, I heard one of my roommates yell, “This is where you get tough, Ann!” Darnit, I thought this was where I got to feel sorry for myself?! I knew she was right though and I snapped back to reality, thinking, “Hello, wake up! This isn’t another crappy race! You’re doing awesome today, let’s act like it!” I didn’t catch anyone, but I moved up and got darn close and in the end, I ran 9:57.98 to punch my ticket to the Olympic Trials.
Looking back on the race, I realized I wanted to do it over again after re-calibrating some gauges. A year ago, I would get to that point in the race with a couple laps to go and barely be hanging on. My legs would feel heavy, my breathing labored, and if I tried to kick, there would be no response from my body. This time though, when I tried to kick, something happened….I kicked. What a feeling, to dig down and find something. To finish strong as opposed to barely finishing at all. This is what it feels like to be healthy and in good shape. This is what it feels like to be able to compete without having to be so careful to avoid “the wall”. Does that wall still loom as a possibility? Of course. But I’m starting to feel like I can dance closer to it and take more risks to test my limits without paying so dearly for it. This is what you’re supposed to be doing in a race.
I reached down to help my friend Dawn Cromer get up from the track after the race was over. The past few years have been a struggle for her as well, and on this day, her calf had cramped up badly in the first lap of the race. She had finished anyway and as I helped her up, she ignored her own disappointment and pain and smiled at me and said, “You did great! You’re back.” I just smiled. She might be right.
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