One scarcely hears Hayward field mentioned without the word "magic" entering the sentence somewhere. Having never previously raced there, going into nationals, I was very excited to see if it lived up to the legends. And folks, it certainly did.
I arrived in Eugene on Tuesday evening with Dale and Lyle, already probably far too hyped up about the whole atmosphere of being here. The usual travel-ugly troll that takes my place on the first day of travel meets had yet to rear its head, and I was thrilled to even be here. We had our first opportunity to practice on the track and get out on Pre's Trails. If you ever have the chance to run those trails, I would definitely recommend it, but I would also recommend bringing a map. Lyle was my trail guide, and if we're all being honest with each other here, for someone who has been to Eugene for his own trips to nationals and the Olympic Trials so many times, I am not at all convinced he knew where he was going. Sorry coach, there were just a few moments when you sporadically dipped off and said, "This looks like it goes somewhere!" that I genuinely believed we would never find our way out of the forest. I was prepared for my fate of living amongst the wolves. Despite at one point ending up on the wrong side of the fence of a gated community, we did eventually make our way back to Hayward and it was probably the best I've ever felt on a post-flight shakeout. (It may have made a slight difference that I actually remembered to pack both of my compression sleeves this time. In Texas, I forgot one of them and ended up with one leg that was comically larger than the other after the flights).
The vast majority of Wednesday after my morning shakeout was spent watching Harry Potter and New Girl in my hotel room, which is the standard pre-race routine. We did have the chance to watch the men's first day of distance events, and I got to see one of my high school teammates qualify for the finals in the 1500m. Love you @ Ben. I also got the news that my friend Courtney and her dad Mark would be making the trip out to watch finals, and that four of my high school teammates were driving out from Park City to watch, so the pressure to perform was on for sure. Disaster struck Wednesday evening when the store was out of every flavor of Pedialyte other than grape, but I soldiered on and powered through the bottle anyway.
I wish I could accurately capture all of the sensations of Thursday evening. There was an overwhelming sense of support from my teammates, friends, and coaches, both here and at home. There was obviously a great deal of excitement to be competing at this legendary track with such a talented field of athletes. There was immense gratitude to those who helped get me this far. But more than anything, there was a strange sense of calm. The meet schedule was behind by about fifteen minutes, so after we were called to the marshaling area, we were released back to the warm-up field for a few more minutes, and I remember looking out past all of the girls who were about to go through this twenty-five lap battle alongside me, seeing the mountains in the distance, and just thinking how happy I was to be here.
The race itself was incredible to experience. Typically in a 10k, I let myself stay calm and ride the pack for the first 5k. In this race, I was much more alert and aware of the little changes taking place in the pack, not wanting to lose focus and be caught unaware when people started to break off. The pace was faster than I have ever maintained over 10k before, but Lyle and I had already discussed this a bit. Since my fastest race at Mt Sac was so strategic and the first half went out so slowly, we both believed that I had yet to show my true potential in this event. We came through the first mile, and as I always do four laps into a 10k, I took a deep breath and told myself that I was just fine, I was comfortable and I was still in this race. Each time a group broke off, I attempted to go with them. The main pack dropped me, so for the last eight laps, I was in a no-man's land. I couldn't believe where I was. I came into this race hoping more than anything to become an All-American, but after the struggles I experienced with my running career over the last two years, I was not anticipating that I would place as well as I did. I ended up wrapping up my career at MSU with a fourth place finish at nationals and a forty-seven second personal best from my previous at Mt Sac.
I have already started receiving a lot of questions about what changed over the last year-I went from running a 17:05 5k to running two 16:29 5ks in a row. I made a lot of changes from this time last spring. The first change was in my training and my mindset towards it. When I didn't even qualify for regionals last year, I came to the realization that if I wanted to meet my goal of signing a contract after college, I would have to make some changes. At the end of last spring, I was running fifty miles a week. This spring, I maintained seventy miles a week consistently, and intend to get up to eighty this summer. I started taking each run more seriously, and really hammering long runs. I changed my mindset a great deal to the point that almost every run, rather than just thinking it's just another run, I see it as one more step that can either take me forward towards my goal of becoming an Olympian or backwards away from the fitness I need. It's all what you choose to make it.
Another change was in the way I approach my races. In the past, I have struggled a great deal with my anxiety, especially before races. I have to make a conscious effort to calm down, but I have finally started to reach a place of calm, peace, and self-assurance when I run. This race was oddly the most calm I have ever been because I felt I had truly earned the right to be there with my miles of trials and unseen efforts over the last two years. This performance may seem to some to have come out of nowhere, but it is a moment that I have been working for over many years and trials.
Every race, I write three words and phrases where I can look to them when my body starts to hurt and tries to encourage my mind to give up. The first is "calm", finding its place on the back of my hand where it is just a turn of the wrist away, for obvious reasons. The second things seem to be going south, my silly brain likes to buy a one-way ticket to panic town. It's always nice to have a quiet reminder that things will be okay no matter what. The second is, "Not a pretender", marching its way down the side of my index finger where it can point me forward should I ever question whether or not I deserve to be there. The miles, workouts, and heart that I have put into this sport have transformed me into someone who has earned the right to compete, and doubting that midway through a race has never helped anyone. The final word is "Tough", always marked on my left wrist where I can see it throughout the race. Distance races take a tremendous amount of mental effort, and each time I run one, I remind myself that I am tougher than I even know. After all, if I can finish a medium long run under seven minute pace just an hour after finishing a truly thicc Chipotle burrito, heaven only knows what I'm really capable of.
So, now that I've competed at my first national meet, I am hungry to come back and continue advancing. Right now, I am planning on taking the weekend off to reset and allow the shin splints that currently feel like angry badgers have been gnawing my tibias to calm down a bit, then I'm hoping to swan dive back into a sixty-five mile week, building up by five a week until I hit that sweet spot at eighty. I will also be training back in Park City this summer, so no doubt my lungs are going to hate me more than just about anything for the first two weeks. Thoughts and prayers are greatly appreciated.
