First times and big little victories

I’ve raced many half-marathons but in some ways yesterday’s was my first. Another “first” in a week of “first times”. 

It was my first half-marathon run and officially recognized and awarded as a nonbinary athlete. And that equal award for nonbinary athletes exists now within the races of this organization greatly thanks to my efforts. 

It was also the first time I raced without going for time, without trying to get a PR or aiming for the podium. My goal for this half-marathon was, as my coach put it, to “get to the Start line” at the end of 2-3 weeks of major burnout and having just barely recovered from a severe ankle sprain that kept me from running for over seven weeks during the summer. Once I got to the start line, after less than four weeks of preparation for this race, my goal was to get to the Finish line all in one piece, with no new injury. And 13.6 miles later, having negotiated nearly 2,700 feet elevation gain in steep stretches over very technical terrain, there I was all in one piece, with no new injury: mission accomplished! It didn’t matter that it was my slowest half-marathon ever; it doesn’t matter than I power-hiked (instead of jogging) most of the uphills — they were so, so steep! What matters is that I paced myself, I listened to my body every single step of the way and the moment it said, “This is too much”, I slowed down; the moment it said, “I need fuel”, I refueled; the moment it said, “I can go”, I picked up my speed, but carefully, without having to prove anything to anyone — not even to myself. 

A lot of it felt like a weekend hike, a beautiful, albeit cold, weekend hike. 

I was alone on the trail for a lot of the time. I ran/jogged/hiked with no music or earbuds or headphones. I was hyperfocused on the trail and technical terrain in fear of spraining my ankle again but I was still able to get glimpses of the route and scenery — the autumny woods, the hills shrouded in low white clouds and mist, the greens and reds and grays of the landscape around me. 

During most of the race, I just felt like I was there for the journey, there for the ride, like I was just taking myself on a pleasant hike. 

I’ve never raced like that before and in many ways, I believe that to be the greatest accomplishment of yesterday’s race for me: I just got there, did this thing in a way that was enjoyable and fun for myself, did it giving it value for the moment, at each step, regardless of the “numerical outcome” (e.g. time or position/result). I shifted my perspective from one goal (i.e. the “numerical outcome”) to another, that was/is more important: i.e my having gotten there despite the difficulties, in the first place, and my finishing it without further harm to myself. 

I want to try and see the “thing with the guy at the gym” in the same way: it was a huge step for me to go up to a stranger (on whom I have a crush) and ask them to climb with me. I have never done anything like that before and with my “new presentation” it feels even harder/scarier to me. It would be nice if “something” would come out of it — I wish it would. But it is truly secondary (& out of my control). I’ve already taken my big little step, already accomplished my big little goal. 

Just like with yesterday’s half-marathon, I’ve already had my big, little victory.