Once upon a time, I missed running Disney Races. Over the course of my running years, I had run the Princes Half, and the Tower of Terror races, and of course, the epic "completed while pregnant" Mickey's Marathon. I freaking LOVED Disney Races.
Apparently I had belly-ached about my longing to complete another Disney race loud enough for someone to notice. And so, for my birthday, I was surprised with the gift of entry for the Wine and Dine Half Marathon, Lumiere's Challenge: 6.2 on Friday and 13.1 on Saturday.
Friday's race went off without a hitch, I felt great, and was totes jazzed for Saturday's run.
Eff this Shit. I have ZERO desire to run.
But whatever, I've felt that at 3 a.m. plenty of times, I thought I would rally while waiting for 3 hours in the start corrals, hanging with other runners can make you feel more excited, right? There were fireworks, and loud music, and we were OFF to the races.
Within the first mile I was like this:
Eff this Shit. I have ZERO desire to run.
But whatever, I've felt that way at mile 1 plenty of times. I'll warm up, I'll get excited to see characters, and I'll feel better. I cranked up my music and thought Flo Rida would rock my running world. I took pictures and was excited to show the family these things. And by mile 3 I was truly feeling like:
Eff this Shit. I STILL have ZERO desire to run.
But whatever, I have 10 more miles to go. So it is at this part of the race I thanked GOD for my degree in behavior science and my skills as a coach.
"If you can make it to mile 7, I will let you walk until mile 10." And that is what I focused on. Running to mile 7. I figured, If I could tune out the noise and make it to 7, I would be good to go. But at mile 7, I was still feeling like:
Eff this Shit. I want to die.
But whatever, if I walk now, I got 6.2 miles to keep my ass walking, and I PROMISED the family that we would be AT Animal Kingdom NO LATER than 10 a.m. for our reservations. Mama ain't got TIME to walk. And so, I bribed myself to "Just run to mile 10, please, you can do it. If you run to mile 10, you can walk the rest of the way and STILL MAKE it to Animal Kingdom." I was still feeling like:
Eff this Shit. I want to die.
But whatever, I have run 26.2 damn miles pregnant. I've run 13.1 miles on broken foot. I've run 20 miles pushing a baby stroller. I can actually DO this. And so I bribed myself hard, hard, hard core.
"If you run the rest of the race and finish under X amount of time, you can eat as many Mickey's Magic Bars as you please today."
It was HOT. We were running directly into the sun on a Florida highway. The conditions sucked. My hip killed, but, bribery aside, I wanted to finish this race RUNNING, because it could very well be my last 13.1 ever.
I envisioned Luke out in front of me, pulling me along. After all, it had been quite some time since I had run WITHOUT him out there in front. I cranked up some really disgusting music, and I talked to myself. People may have thought I was nuts, but I didn't care. I dug in and cranked it out.
Eff that shit. I am done.
The face of a tired MotherRunner
I've really never been more proud of myself during a race. It was in no way a PR, but it was a definite display of mind over matter, and that, my friends, is really what distance running is all about. When we've trained our bodies to accomplish the miles, it really about working our minds. Convincing ourselves that our bodies are capable of doing this, and being okay with the discomfort and pain. This is why distance running is crazy, and amazing. It's a total mind over matter game.
Which is great, because Disney doesn't even MAKE Mickey's Magic Bars anymore...so I basically bribed myself with nothing.
