The Zero

When it comes to running, I'm a nobody, a zero.  Not a single person groans under their breath, "ugh, he showed up", out of fear on race day.  Nobody sizes me up.  There are no interviews, no press conferences. Rightly so, I'm not fast enough to make a name for myself, not crazy enough to run some ridiculously long distance to write a book.  I do wonder though, what would the attention and whispers be like?

Half Marathon number two for the year is about to start.  Here's the thing though, there are whispers, there are looks out of corners of eyes, even some pointing at me.  Have I arrived?  Have I got remarkably faster?  Think again!  What is causing this sudden attention, wait for it, I'm wearing shorts.  Are my legs really that damn sexy?  No, this excitement is simply because it's zero degrees outside and apparently it's odd to wear shorts.  I don't quite get it, it's a race, I like to wear what I train in and what I'm most comfortable in.  "Don't you get cold?"  That's the question I get. Ahhh, the price of fame!  Maybe, obscurity is best after all.  Though I have to admit, my favorite reaction so far has been on a training run where a car slowed down as it passed, only to yell at me "I'm telling your mother!".  This could be my form of intimidation, people naturally assume I'm tough to not wear pants.  If they only knew, I just don't like pants. Regardless, here I stand at the starting line, in shorts, to run the Winter Blast Half Marathon. Zeeeeerrrrrroooooooooo, goes the horn!

The first couple miles were uneventful.  The internal mental struggle wasn't trying to stay warm, but attempting to talk myself into staying at a slower pace.  The air was crisp, running felt easy to the point I knew that I was starting quicker than I probably should.  At mile four, I saw it, my first motivation.  A woman had a jacket on with the phrase "you've been chicked" on it.  A month ago, I'd never heard of that term before.  These two guys stood joking around how one of their buddies got "chicked" at the end of a race (yeah, so I was sizing them up in that given moment, don't judge me).  Chicked, if you want to look it up, is the act of letting a woman getting the better of you.  I'd like to think that I'm progressive enough to honestly believe sexes are equal, heck I run with a clan of women, they beat me physically and mentally all the time.  But, something about advertising the fact by a stranger seemed to get under my skin and in that moment, I decided that she was not going to chicked me.  My pace quickens and she got shorted!  Yes, you've heard it here first! Shorted, verb, the act of getting passed by a person in shorts (we'll try to forget about the other variation on the verb).

Mile six, I was gaining on a friend that I have no business gaining on. As I pulled along side, I made the casual joke of "I guess you overdressed for this race and are overheating".  Unfortunately,  his knee was bothering him.  Honestly, I kind of like him hurt.  His hurt pace is my fast race pace.  It was almost the halfway point, I was running very well, felt good and at this point was the first time I thought about trying for my PR.  If I could maintain this pace, I'd be close.  When I got my PR, I felt like I ran out of my mind that day.  Out of all my runs, it has been the one I didn't think I could improve on, especially after my Achilles problem.  Now, it seemed possible.  I decided that I'd maintain, run with my friend, then at mile ten, I'd make the decision if I'd try to break my PR.

Ten is here.  Four people are within eyesight, but checking my watch, so is my PR.  There is no doubt what has to happen, time to chase my PR.  I've been running fast, but time to see if there's a little extra left.  Besides, one guy ahead of me, I can't stand the way he runs!  Time to short him and the other three people I can see.  By mile eleven, something very strange happened.  Something that's never happened to me before, there was nobody, maybe we should say zero people were ahead of me.  It's not like there were lots of curves and I just couldn't see people, there were just zero. At one point there was the long straight away which two years ago I had to walk during a 5K that used this same course because I was tired.  Today, I'm running a faster per mile pace at the end of a half marathon than I did for that 5K. Would it happen again?  Was I pushing myself too hard?  Here come the thoughts of doubt.  But, at the same time those feelings are going on, there's this whole other feeling of this is what the lead feels like?  At one point I actually had to ask volunteers if I was going the right direction.  It's actually kind of lonely here with zero in front.  Suddenly the roles have reversed, now I feel hunted.  I bet those who can see me, want to beat the guy in shorts, it won't happen today.

Of course there were runners in front, but the final two point one miles, never saw another runner.  Zero to chase, zero to wonder about the next day had I pushed a little harder.  Crossing the finish line, I didn't even have to look at the clock, I knew it was a PR.  For crushing what I thought was my most impressive PR, it felt mellow.  I think I felt most proud of running a very consistent, fast pace, but still was able to find a slightly faster gear in the final miles.  Before, I needed a runner's high and a threat from CT to get my time.  This time, I played my usual games of finding people I had to beat, but beyond that it was just running.  I hope this is a sign I've improved.

When the snow settled, my PR also turned into a third place finish in my age group!  I've never placed in a race longer than a 5K, that may be even more special to me than my time.  When I think back to mile ten and debating to push a little harder or listen to the voices to take it easy and coast, it was a defining moment. Two of the final four people I passed and five of next ten people that finished behind me were in my age group, talk about closely contested.  Had I relaxed just a little, the results would not have been the same.  I'll write it again, just to remind myself, but always give it max effort.  It's a much better feeling.

Today, I turned from zero to hero.....well, in my own mind.