Thanks for making me a FIGHTER.



Citius



In the home stretch



Woo hoo check out my arm msucles!



So Sunday, November 6, I had the opportunity to race at the New England Club XC Championship race against a competitive field.  I went out in 5:39 and was out of contact with the lead pack, passed the 5K in 19:00, and finished the 6K in 22:13, slightly disappointed but accepting of the time considering my body felt like it was moving MUCH slower than it was.  At one point, I remember losing focus in the first 400 meters because Jenn Donnovan, yes, the girl I mentioned last post, the Suffolk phenom, was right in front of me and I took a moment to check her out.  I know, I know, I admit it.  I checked out a girl AND I lost focus in a race.  Why did I take that time to pause? To figure out what exactly she has that I don't - so that I can get it.  How can those little legs take her through the 6K course (and through the first damn mile) so fast? 

My husband can attest that I have been asking a lot of questions about my legs lately.  Take a look at the pictures above; my arms look manly.  I love it.  I literally have a "bulging bicep," but I don't have a picture of "holy shit" legs. Voila, a new obsession.  My husband has said several times, in response to my comments, that I clearly have runners' legs, but I want better runners' legs.  When my running buddy came to my house a few weeks ago, Rob's inital reaction was, WOAH, her legs are ripped.  What does she do? She spins. 

Today, thanks to the connection one of the Post girls has with a spin studio, I had the chance to have a free trial class on Real Ryder (?) spin bikes, the bikes that can lean as you move about.  It adds a whole new element to spinning, and I am always about upping the ante.  How can I make something hard harder?

I'm so glad I went.  Because of Veterans Day, I didn't have to babysit at 6 a.m. For most people, these extra few morning hours would be a perfect opportunity to catch up on some sleep.  For me, I rolled out of bed and into sneakers for this class.  Although, I will admit, I did consider texting the girls to tell them that I was going to opt out because, let's face it, who wants to get out of bed at 6 a.m. when she doesn't have to? But boy oh boy am I glad I did.  The class was amazing.

Funny enough, after the end of class, the instructor noted that she had "lost" me by the third song, that I had gone "in the zone."  And she's right, I found my own little focus as I stared at the muscle lines on my legs in the mirror (told you, obsession), fully aware at the progress I was making toward my goal.

Perhaps that third song, though, was Christina Aguilera's "Fighter," and maybe my zone was partially created by anger.  I couldn't help but listen to the words and take out the agression that I have built over the past two days.  After hearing rumors and confirmations of many of my athetes making extremely poor decisions, I cannot help but fume.  

I take things involving running and our team way too personally, but after always being the person to console the kids when they don't perform well and "just don't know why," I can't help but feel lied to.  You know why.  You ran a sub-par performance because you drank the weekend before your championship race.  You ran poorly because you drank THE DAY before your conference championships.  Here I am sitting for hours, reading food journals and researching different ailments and solutions, and there they are, lying to my face when I ask them to be honest.  I feel like so much of my time has been wasted, and I feel like I have been betrayed. 

I think the more and more I get into my own running, the less and less I get into coaching.  I look around at the girls who are faster than me and mimic them, so why then, don't our girls do that? It's frustrating. 

But I guess, with every uphill battle, there's a downhill waiting for you to cruise down.  On the positive side, their poor decisions make me stronger, make me work harder, make me wiser, make me a little bit faster, make my skin a little bit thicker, make me that much smarter. So to the people who are better than me and to the people who are no where near my level and never will be, thanks for making me a fighter.