At the start of 2017, I was about 16 months postpartum and fresh off November marathon and half marathon PRs, records that had taken a good three years (and getting pregnant again) before finally falling. For the first time in a long time, I decided to forego a spring marathon in the interest of doing short stuff. In essence, for the better part of the last decade, I had convinced myself that I was/am more of a marathoner than anything, that the discomfort from running 26.2 as fast as I could was more bearable than doing the same for 13.1, 6.2, or god forbid 3.1.
The stories we tell ourselves, or hey, let’s call a spade a spade and qualify it for what it is — the limitations we impose on ourselves — seem to have a way of becoming self-fulfilling prophecies. For years, I had all but purposely shied away from racing, much less training for, short distances because I was convinced that those distances just weren’t in my wheelhouse because anytime I did them, it just wasn’t enjoyable. Racing any of the PA races with my team was never an option simply because I never felt I was fast enough to do anything productive, lest I forget that I was always training for a marathon and always told myself that I “wasn’t in half, 5k, 10k, or (insert any other non-marathon-distance) shape.”
At any rate, I don’t know why I had decided that a spring 2017 marathon would be an unwise route for me to take — if memory serves, the only time in recent history when I haven’t done a spring marathon was in the throes of pregnancy — but in doing so, it left me with a gap to fill. I felt I was far enough along postpartum to begin pressing things a bit more earnestly, so going after the shorter and arguably harder non-marathon distances seemed to make a lot of sense at the time. Something unbelievable happened, too: I actually enjoyed non-marathon races. It wasn’t until after halfway through the year that I’d get back into the marathon, and it was in that opposing world where I spent most of my time training for the second part of the year.
When I talk about 2017, I can rattle off lots of statistics:
2,501 miles run (not a distance PR, but just shy of the 2,56x from 2014);
winning a couple races (SIB baby mama 10k, Hearts and Soles 10k, East Bay 510k);
running new-to-me distances/races (XC);
and having several non-racing or non-mileage-focused experiences that were still very meaningful (pacing SRM; spectating at BSIM, IM Santa Rosa, and my eldest’s first tri; participating in a Hoka Women Who Fly weekend; the tons and tons of stroller runs; and bike-stroller run-ride commutes with my kids).
I’ll be the first to admit that all that stuff matters to me, but when I think about my 2017, the connective thread between all of it is the community in which this sport enables me to immerse myself. It’s the community that made taking the plunge to do different stuff — stuff that I wouldn’t otherwise be so keen to do — more feasible, a welcome change of both literal and metaphorical pace. There was a time in my life when I’d sign up for a race; show up and do the thing; and then go home, both when I lived in Chicago and since moving to the Bay Area.
My 2017 was basically the polar opposite.
It’s the community in this sport — and the so many people with whom I got to spend time, train, and race alongside — that just makes me cheshire like a damn fool when I think about my running in 2017. Sure, notching personal bests (and working my ass off to get myself to a place where I can do that) is important and enjoyable, but the people, man. The people are where it’s at in this sport.
Rather than belabor every lowlight and highlight of the 2500 miles from 2017, I think the more appropriate way to adequately express what I’m talking about — why this community thing meant so much to me in 2017 — is to show you.
I’m not completely sure what I’m chasing after in 2018, at least not yet. I’m inclined to focus my year in much the same way as I did in 2017, by doing the shorter stuff in the first half and the marathon (SF, CIM) in the second half, but we’ll see.
What I do know is that I’ll be in good company again this year, and that in and of itself is pretty damn exciting.
Consider this your standing invitation to join in the fun anytime.