Good morning,
Two weeks ago, my physical therapist’s face said it all when she said “Ki, are you sure you still want to run the race next week?”
My heart sunk. I had been looking forward to this half marathon for months, and now I wasn’t sure if I’d even be able to walk it, let alone run.
Just as the weather in Colorado was shifting to warmer temperatures, here I was — feeling like I couldn’t enjoy any of it — no more tennis or pickleball, let alone running a half marathon.
Between my calf strain and tennis elbow, it felt like I was constantly at war with my body, and that everything was working against me. And race day felt more like a giant question mark than a milestone.
Still, I wasn’t going to give up that easy. “I will do whatever it takes to get to that starting line,” I told my PT.
So I bought a new pair of running shoes. I kept up with the strengthening work. I gritted my teeth through the dry needling. And still, I wasn’t sure what would happen once my foot hit the course.
Then came race day last weekend, and I was full of fear.
"What if I don't succeed?" is the soundtrack that continued to run through my head that morning.
Many questions raced through my mind, but the image of crossing the finish line at the end of the race kept me going.
I decided to keep my expectations low, and thought to myself: It probably won’t be your best time, and you will have to walk most of it, but you can do this.
Last weekend, as we set off on the course, I stayed present, kept breathing, and listened closely to my body — literally, taking it one step and one breath at a time.
By the time I got to the last leg of the race, I realized — I was still running! In fact, I ran the entire race. I was stunned.
When I crossed the finish line, my time was the slowest it’s ever been. I didn’t follow a perfect training plan.
It most certainly wasn’t my strongest race, but it was the one I was proudest of.
Why?
Because I redefined what success looked like — and honored the version of me that showed up, even when things didn’t go as planned. |