The Race that Almost Killed Me... (& My Secret to Speed)

Before the race: I look unstoppable, but I actually feel quite distressed.

It was the race that almost killed me… Or rather, the race I almost killed myself. The culmination of two months of training had boiled down to five kilometers and I was bound and determined to give it my best.

This was certainly not my first race, but my nerves were shot. The night before I tossed and turned and barely slept, then woke up with knots twisting in my stomach. Why was I so nervous? I had done this before, countless times… in the hot, beating sun, in the pouring rain, on the treadmill and on the pavement.

But this race was different. It was the first one I had trained for consistently. It was the first time I had developed a training plan and stuck with it faithfully. Interval sprinting one day, pace running another… Each workout was building my endurance, increasing my speed and pushing my limits.

But even with all of that preparation, five minutes before the race, my legs were quivering, my hands were trembling and my heart was pounding. I closed my eyes, drew in a deep breath and bowed my head, asking God to calm my fears and give me strength.

I'm the chick with the pink shoes and the orange sweat band... Yes, the one who looks like a rejected character from the movie Dodgeball.

As the national anthem played, I stood at attention beside dozens of other runners, both young and old, military and civilian, and suddenly decided that this day, I would push myself like I never had before. This would be the race I would test my boundaries. I would not stop. I would not give up.

So as the starter’s pistol cracked, I propelled myself across the starting line and sprinted through the crowd. Within the first half mile, my mouth was parched, my throat was clenched and my mind was telling me to slow down.

Blasting my music, of course.

But I wouldn’t. I continued my pace, lengthened my stride and began picking off the slower runners ahead of me. With each pass, I gained more and more confidence. By mile two, I realized that while I would never beat the fastest man, there were only two women I needed to pass.

As I approached mile 2.5, my legs were aching, my chest was tightening and my lungs were beginning to feel like bursting. I wanted to stop. My body was begging me for a break… But I couldn’t. I was way too close to the end.

At mile 2.85, sweat was pouring down my face, my feet were throbbing and my breaths were turning into audible grunts and moans. At this point, I didn’t care how I looked or sounded; all I wanted was to finish.

A few seconds later, I was trailing just inches behind one of the aforementioned female runners… This was my chance to pass. If I did it now, I knew I would need to dart the entire way to the end to stay ahead.

And that’s exactly what I did. With just two-tenths of a mile to go, I closed my eyes, thrusted one foot in front of the other, and like a rocket, launched myself toward the finish line. Every breath burned my windpipe and each step seared my calves, but I kept pushing forward.

Finally, the finish line was in sight. I saw the silhouettes of spectators, but I drowned out the crowd. This was my moment and all I could focus on was flying over that finish line. Seconds later, I crossed, passing on the proverbial torch to my teammate. My portion of the triathlon relay had ended. At last, I could rest.

My husband rushed towards me with a bottle of water and I nearly collapsed into his arms. Shaking and limping, I made my way to the gym, gasping for icy air. I stumbled through the doors and flopped myself onto the floor. My shins were splintering and my calves were cramping, but it didn’t matter… I was finally finished, running my fastest 5k at 21:49.

Three days later, my legs are still sore and my gait is more like a gimp, but I am smiling from ear to ear. Together, my team finished second in the ladies road bike division of the triathlon, and I also ended up being the second fastest female runner that day. The race nearly killed me, but that feeling of winning made me feel more alive than I have in awhile.

I look terrible, but I thought you'd like to see the trophy.

 BONUS: My Secret to Speed

Want to know what really makes me run fast? 

Just listen to my iTunes... Give me any type of house or dance music and I will shave MINUTES off of my total run time. 

This race, I owe to Swedish House Mafia. ;)