Racing against thousands of runners -- and my own self doubt

I’m a huge fan of Margaritas, really I am.

The blender had barely stopped whirring last night when Mrs. Oz filled a glass with the delicious, frosty concoction and then looked askance when I said, “No thank you” to a glass of my own.

Not my typical response.

It’s not that I am some sort of world-class athlete with iron will for discipline or anything. But I did have a race this morning and yes, I am trying to set myself up to succeed.

So last night I did abstain. I even went to bed early. We had rented a couple of DVDs. By the time I got done watching one with the youngest Ozling, it was quarter to 9. So instead of staying up late to watch the second movie with Mrs. Oz, I read for a little bit and then turned out the light.

Yesterday I did run long, but I took it easy for a little over 9 miles. The Half Marathon in June is my true focus for this part of the running season so I needed some mileage, but I also wanted to rev up the engine today at the Trolley Run 4-miler. So I tried to leave some gas in the tank.

And rev I did this morning. Vroom, vroom.

The leader of my weekly running group encouraged everyone doing today’s race to take it easy on the first part of the course. It can be a bit congested with thousands of runners and walkers. And the early going is flat to slightly uphill.

I thought I was taking it easy. Sort of. When my little Garmin buddy beeped a first-mile split, though, it informed me I had gone a little over 7.

Then we hit the downhill portion of the course. Downhill is fun. The rest of my splits…..went negative.

I often have negative splits in my races. But it doesn't usually involve faster miles toward the end. They reflect negative thoughts of self doubt that fill my head late in a race. When I hit the mind games part of the race, they did in fact arrive. “You are going too fast. You know you are going to get tired. What if you bonk? “

“Shut up. I have been training. I’m doing OK,” I replied to the negative thoughts.

“Don’t you think if you keep going this fast you are going to bonk?” they counter.

I kept them under control. Mostly. I kept running steady and hard, but then a dude in an orange shirt came up beside me. He pushed ahead. I followed and pushed ahead of him.

We traded position about four times in the last ¾ of a mile. Then he made a final surge with what turned out to be a little more than ¼ of a mile to go.

I kept running hard, but gave in to the mind games and conceded that my legs did feel a little heavy. I gave in a bit to the fear of bonking – even as it was irrational with so little distance yet to go. I let Orange man go without a final fight and he crossed the line at least a couple hundred yards ahead of me.

Still, though, I kept the negative thoughts at bay more effectively than I ever have before. When I crossed the line, it was a PR -- with the fastest average time per mile of any race I have ever run.

I will learn from today and be stronger next time. And I will celebrate today's accomplishment.

Tonight, should Mrs. Oz pour a glass of the Syrah resting in our wine rack at the moment for herself and one for me, I certainly won’t say, “No thank you.”