2 May 2008
All in My Head
Posted by Shelly under: Shelly Batterbee .
The morning starts out in beauty—wearing a slight chill that will turn warm as we all start moving. The sun is out, but it is cloaked in a haze—enough to keep us all from squinting but still shedding a golden cast.
An eerie quiet descends among the thousands of runners and spectators. We’re all getting on our game-face. Silence, then POP! We are off. From the POP comes whump thump whump thump—our shoes pounding out a conversation with the pavement.
My pace stays steady, my breathing easy. My legs no longer ache, but instead glide along effortlessly. I smile and wave to the occasional passer-by who tells me I’m doing a great job. “Thanks!” I shout back.
Suddenly the first aid station is in sight. One-point-five done. I slow down a bit, grab a water cup, pinch it tight, drink, toss it. My pace picks back up. I look at my Garmin. Then I look again, thinking I must have turned it off. No, I’m going faster than I’d thought.
I slow down a little, but not too much, as the run seems so easy. I don’t want to get too tired up the hills later though.
Aid station #2 is in sight. Three miles done. I know the people at this station—they cheer me on and smile and wave. More water, then faster pace.
The miles are eaten up by my shoes. I pass the woods, pass the park, onto the next park. The Hill is in sight, but there is loud music pushing us along. I change my stride to match the beat so I am focusing on that instead of The Hill. I look up, smile, tell myself The Hill is merely a flat on an angle. I am ready for this. I have trained for this. I pump my arms a bit more, pull up my core, and I swallow The Hill alive. I am to the top. My smile grows. I’m more than halfway done.
Few people are at the top of The Hill to cheer us on, so I use the calm to reflect on these past few months. New friends have been made, new challenges accepted. I am a runner. I am strong. I will persevere.
More miles pass. I am by the zoo. I know I am almost there. My family comes into sight by the curb up ahead. Go Mama! They shout. They smile. They wave. A tear trickles down my cheek. We’re proud of you, Mama! I’m proud of them, too.
Back to the buildings, nearing the finish line. The wind calms, the crowd grows. I hear claps and cheers for the runners ahead of me. My momentum picks up. Last time I did this, I was so tired at this point. Today I am energized. I have done it. I am able to sprint to the finish, my fellow Road Warriors in view, cheering me to the line. I cross the mats with a smile pasted onto my face.
Then I wake up. A dream, maybe, but also a vision. May 10—I am ready for you.
6 Comments so far...
Deb Pieri Says:
2 May 2008 at 2:36 pm.
Beautifully written Shelly! I could see and hear it all! It’s not just a dream. You are ready and you’re gonna rock! Go Road Warriors!
Julie Hurley Says:
2 May 2008 at 8:13 pm.
Loved it! I can’t wait!!!!!!!!!!!!
Steve Kelly Says:
3 May 2008 at 7:42 am.
ROAD WARRIORS!
Nick Says:
4 May 2008 at 11:22 am.
I read your post — and got nervous! But it was a good nervous! A can’t-wait-this-is-going-to-be-cool-the-culmination-of-so-much-hard-work nervous!
Shirl Kohl-Martin Says:
4 May 2008 at 8:40 pm.
Shelly, what a GREAT post! Thank you for encouraging all of us with your vision - as I too am now ready for this challenge!
Can’t wait to see you at the finish line!
Shirl
Lisa Brady Says:
5 May 2008 at 7:30 am.
Great post! Something that really helped me plug through the last few miles and on long training runs was invisioning running the wrong way (on the one way street) up Ottawa Avenue, up the little hill by Monroe Mall, then making the slight bend and seeing the finish line and good ole Calder Plaza. The Calder statue is the anchor of GR and for me, it was the anchor that pulled me across the finish line. While I won’t be able to do the RBR this weekend, I’ll be seeing it in my minds eye as I do my own 25K on the trail in West Bloomfield. Good luck everyone and have FUN!!!