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I didn’t run the race

Yesterday was America’s Finest City Half Marathon.

There were two medals there waiting for me and a packet with my name on it- all that went unclaimed.

Even though I accepted a couple weeks ago that I would not be running this race, it’s still sad to come to terms with. The race is over. I can’t change my mind now. There’s no going back.

I know this was the right decision. I know in my heart, soul, and gut that there are a number of factors that I would have had to push way too hard- and likely hurt myself- to make that race reality. I’m really happy with what I chose to do this past weekend instead of doing the race. I know in the end, it’s the right decision. But I had a lot of time and training invested in that race. I had already visualized the volunteers at the end putting both medals on my exhausted but happy body. I had looked at the race course and thought about how each mile would feel and how I’d pose for the pictures this time. I’d even picked out my outfit.

Like I said, I had a lot invested in this race.

I’m only human, so I didn’t know the best way to go about not running this. Do I try and sell my ticket online at a discount so I can recover some of the costs? Do I call them ahead and talk about my injury and how I wouldn’t be able to run? Do I go anyway and pick up my packet so I can at least get the t-shirt?

I don’t know. I don’t know how to do these things. I don’t know the best way. I don’t know if I did the best thing. I just distracted myself in other work and -though I accepted I wouldn’t be running- I didn’t give up my registration because I think I held out a sliver of hope that maybe my foot would magically heal and all my issues would go away and I could do it after all.

But that didn’t happen. And it can’t happen now. It’s passed. Things change. There’s no going back. I will not get that T-shirt or those medals or pose for those race pics in the perfect outfit I chose.

And that’s ok. But may take a bit to accept.

And I think I’m still taking about the race…right?

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I Gave Up…

….But I like to think of it as “liberated myself.”

I won’t be able to run the America’s Finest City Half Marathon race on August 18. I already bought the ticket. I was already visualizing myself at the finish line getting my extra medal for completing all three races I’d been training for all year. Even officially typing these words is making me sad again. I thought I’d come to terms with it, but I guess I hadn’t fully accepted it yet.

Point is, there are a lot of factors that have dramatically changed up my life making that race much more difficult than it’s worth.

Without getting into the nitty gritty details, the biggest factor is the fact that I don’t quite trust my foot to not give out. It’s a few months away from total recovery- I’m afraid- and I don’t want to lose the headway I’ve made so far by annihilating it during this race.

I have a number of financial and personal commitments that have completely changed since I originally signed up several months ago. Instead of being able to have the weekend to myself to relax and enjoy the race, I’ll be spending the 17th and 18th working all day. Which is just fine, because I’ve got to get in some extra hours before I head home to Indianapolis on the 20th for the first time in almost 2 years.

It was going to be a stretch to be able to do this race as it is. I knew that. I was willing to do it. But now that I will not be running it, I’m trying to see the positives. I can save my foot. I can maybe resell the entry to recover some costs. Instead of getting an extra medal at the end of the finish line for completing the Triple Crown, I get to spend every day now in a brand new shiny pretty car. And in order to be able to afford that car, I need to spend the 17th and 18th working.

Everything happens for a reason. Even plantar fasciitis. I need to remind myself of that.

Sometimes, when we plan months in advance, we can’t follow through. Things change. Situations change. Bodies change. Relationships change. People change.

And that’s ok.

I won’t run the America’s Finest City Half Marathon. I am sad about it. I am disappointed. But I’m embracing the fact that all this change around me means there are great things around the corner.

You can’t plant a garden without tilling the soil. Right now, the universe swooped in and decided to till my soil. Maybe the timing is inconvenient, but hey- I’ve been asking for a garden for years so…HERE WE GO.

I’m “liberating myself” from a lot of previous structures I had in place. One of those structures included being able to run this race. Now that I won’t be running it, I can open up the space for new, exciting, inspiring energies.

Plus, I’ll have to just lift extra hard to make up for all the calories I can’t run off anymore. Watch out weight room fellas. It’s about to smell like Bath and Body Works all up in there.

Everyone’s so friendly?!

The past two weeks at my gym have been odd. Not ┬ábecause I have to choose odd exercises to compensate for this hurting foot, though that hasn’t been spectacular.

It’s been odd at my gym because…everyone’s being so nice to each other.

Normally, I’m totally anonymous. And I kinda like it that way. I like being quietly left to my workout so I can lose myself in my breath and my awesome music. I can get oddly anxious about things most people don’t think twice about. If I think someone is watching me, I inherently put on a small show. Whether or not they actually are watching. It’s the performer that comes out. And I love the performer- she’s my favorite version of myself- but she gets a lot of time already in Briana-world. Sometimes, I like to be the quiet, awkward, unfriendly, poorly dressed girl who clearly didn’t brush her hair this morning that’s lifting in the corner while everyone around her swears she’s a lesbian. I like her because she’s totally different than my somewhat put-together, friendly, out-going funny flirty girl. I’m very much both people- just different versions of myself depending on my circumstances.

What does any of this have to do with the people around me being friendlier? Well, if I know them by name and see them often, I could start feeling self-conscious when I’m around them. Because I know them. We’ve had a conversation. I’m expected to be friendly now. I should probably make small talk. At some point, we may talk about what we both do outside the gym. I’ve got to always be sure I wave hello and goodbye if I’m waking by because I’m midwestern and we’re really polite and that’s just what you do with people you know. I can’t just be lost in my own thoughts anymore, I now have to be aware in case someone I know is around.

I’ve seen this one guy several times. He works at the gym. He’s often there when I am. Last week, he smiled at me. Then a few days later, he half waved when he saw me. Then the next time I came in, he scanned my card introduced himself. Now I know his name. And he knows mine. He smiled at me again when I walked out of the locker room and headed to my workout. As I write this, I realize this could sound flirty. It’s not. It’s just friendly. But the point is, he knows me know. And I know him. We’ve got eye contact established. Now I have to be nice to him.

The last time I went to the gym, a new guy was working the desk. When he scanned me in, he made small talk then said “Have a nice workout, Briana” and smiled again. Now I gotta be nice to this guy, too.

It’s confusing. I don’t know if I like it or not. We’ll see.

Maybe it’ll make me workout harder, though, if I think people are watching me.

That is, of course, when my foot starts cooperating again and I can return to my normal routine.

Until then, I drink a Bud Light Lime and I write about working out.

Stairs in Pairs

My guy and I sometimes workout together.

I know- it’s so healthy and adorable it’s gross.

Yesterday, we ran stair sprints together. He typically does more anaerobic lifting with only supplemental sprints like these. And when I’m visiting him and don’t have to do a specific training run for a race, I’ll do it with him.

It’s pretty exhausting and adorable.

Our stair sprints yesterday weren’t the most difficult series of sprints we’ve done on stairs. Several months ago, he was on a stairs kick so we did a “pyramid” where we went down and up once, then rested. Then down and up twice, then rest. Building all the way up to I think 6 times, then we worked our way back down from six to 5, 4, 3, 2, and 1. THAT SUCKED.

So in comparison, yesterday wasn’t as bad. We ran down and up six flights of steps then rested 55 seconds on the top. Since I was behind him when we got to the top, I got about 5 seconds less resting up there. We did that for 20 minutes. Stairs are their own beast and I’m here to tell you that if you’re not in shape to run them, it will hurt like hell no matter what.

Plus I had gotten in a mood just before we started so I spent most of the time cussing in my head and out loud.

Calmed down afterwards. No surprise, it happens. And now my legs are sore today. Also no surprise since I pushed hard yesterday.

I guess my point is, healthy body can mean a healthy relationship. So run stairs in pairs and get angry with someone you love!