17 December 2007
Slow & Steady Wins the Race
Posted by Shelly under: Shelly Batterbee .
Ok, let me first start out by clarifying that I have no pipe dreams of actually WINNING this race. Or any, for that matter. I am trying to say that little mantra, learned from the popular story of the tortoise and the hare, whenever I feel like beating myself for my ridiculously slow pace right now. Or when I feel like I want to bring on that run-like-a-kid pace and speed up too much. I’m trying to remember how I trained for the FIRST Riverbank I did–the one I was able to complete. In the beginning I started with about a 13 minute mile (mm). I hear some of you chuckling, saying to yourself or to anyone within earshot: “that is NOT running.” But it is–even if it’s not running FAST. I ended that training in May of 2003 racing a comfortable 11 mm, shaving 2 minutes off my per minute mile time. For shorter races I was able to do about 9:30 mm, give or take a few seconds–still not fast by any means, but fine for my own ego. And I went through that season without injury. So that’s the approach I’m taking again this year. Sloooooow and steady. I can work on speed once I get through 6 months with all of my bones intact. 
I had time this weekend to ponder Bob’s blog about passion and compulsion. I attended my daughter’s very first swim meet on Saturday–she just joined the official team 5 days prior and was more nervous than I’ve ever seen her. She was almost to the point of hysteria, not wanting to even go. Her fear made me just want to cry for her, and I felt the sick-to-my-stomach feeling I knew SHE was feeling. I shared her fear, hoping to take some of it away. We were both sort of thrown into the event that day, not knowing who should go where, and at what time. But she figured it out–I walked her out on the pool deck and found her coach, who then took over.
As I sat up in the bleachers watching her and her teammates, I had a lot of time to think. I was thrilled when her first event, the 50 M Freestyle, was complete. She found she’s no longer the fastest in her group after that first race, as she tended to be in her pre-competitive group. But she also wasn’t the slowest. I know she was disappointed not to place, but that can actually be good for someone, too. Teaches her to keep trying, and harder at that.
After that first event, I finally saw her smile for the first time that day. She found one of her friends–mind you we’d been there for about 2 hours at this point, and she sat down on that deck alone until then. But her friend helped her relax, so she was more at ease for her next two events. She didn’t win those, either, but also didn’t come in last. Even if she was last, I’d be proud of her. SOMEONE always has to be last.
I’ve always been happy to be a middle-of-the-pack runner, but you know what? I’d be happy even I was last. As I told my daughter, she was doing something so many people won’t even TRY. And she could outswim me anyday, I’m sure. She is one of those with a natural talent for her form at a very young age–now just needs a little coaching on her speed.
So as I run on the road, along with my fellow warriors, or as I run in any future races, the Riverbank included, even if I’m last, know that I will still be proud of myself. If you are reading this and come in last, or if you have ever come in last–know that even though I may not know you, I’m still proud of you. To do something others are sitting on the sideline watching or critiquing–that is what makes you strong. You are trying. I am trying.
So on Bob’s earlier blog, I think I can pinpoint mine down to being passion. Passion keeps me compelled to keep going. My daughter didn’t want to do any other sport this fall–she only wanted to work on swimming–her first year trying it as a team member. She has that same passion for swimming that I do for running. When I was out with an injury for several months this past spring–I actually cried. Yes, little wet tears streaming down my face. At first I felt like I failed–and then I realized I was crying because I missed running. I didn’t fail–I just couldn’t complete that race. But I have my whole life to run. In the scheme of things a few months off is not so bad. I cried happy tears for my friends when they crossed the finish line–because I know what it feels like to accomplish something like that. I have come back to running this fall/winter with a more reverent attitude. I know it can be taken away from me very quickly if I don’t respect my body, my mind. My passion is what will keep me going through this time.
And hopefully a little help from you all–I admit a few RAH-RAHs here and then don’t hurt. 
One Comment so far...
Bob Estes Says:
17 December 2007 at 4:59 pm.
Hey Shelly. Great post. I think back to all those times as a parent that I sat in the stands hoping and praying that my daughter would make herself happy and not spend so much time trying to win for me or for the coach. That’s what it’s all about! That’s what will keep you running long past the 25k. I believe that by default we are all running our own race. Whatever comes after that is frosting on the cake. I have some friends in my life that I have made in the past couple of months participating in group runs (including the R.W. group) that I am sure feel the same way about running and watching those around them attain their personal best. Keep driving forward! See you soon!