I’ve always been into running since I was a kid. I did Cross Country and Track and Field, but knew early on that my heart was more in distance vs. the dash. As I got older, I found my time on the road was more than just a workout and it brought me the solitude to process different life events, or conversely, to completely shut my brain off while I focused on the steady and comforting rhythm of my breathing and footsteps. Running eventually became my saving grace during the early stages of the pandemic and beyond. My best friend, Meredith, and I would go for nice, calm social runs to get away for a bit, but eventually group and even partner runs were no longer allowed due to Covid restrictions. I found myself running more on my own and increasing distance became my coping strategy. This increased volume in running, and the isolation we were all feeling at the time, led me to follow a friend’s advice to join the Rockwood Road Warriors. When I joined in April of 2020, workouts were still in a virtual format since group runs were still a no-go. Despite that, the coach, Jeff Queen, and fellow RRW runners, provided a sense of community and encouragement that I never really experienced before, which allowed me to push myself to new places.
While I would argue that I’m a self-proclaimed road runner, this past year, I became curious about another running group; a local trail running group that kept popping up on my social media. I would laugh at the photos posted of them getting into all kinds of crazy runs and adventures, including crossing waist high water at Shady Grove when there was nowhere left to go but through. When spring hit, I knew I was ready to mix up my road running game and join them on their adventures. I joined the Saint John Trail Running group in April of 2021 and have very quickly discovered a new love for the trails and the people on them. Both are bold, adventurous, and a little bit crazy...all things that I love. They have encouraged me to get outside my comfort zone and try new things, so when I heard about a new race being hosted in St. Andrews this year, I thought this was the perfect opportunity to do just that.
When I first heard of the Paddlefest Wharf-to-Wharf 19K, I signed up immediately without thinking too much about it. Since I knew my fellow SJTR friends had done this route before as a weekend pop-up run, I excitedly mentioned to them that I had signed up for the race. While this news was met with their normal encouragement and support, I also heard their uncharacteristically quiet and subdued enthusiasm loud and clear, and thought, “What have I gotten myself into?” But I took the straightforward and frank words of my fellow SJ Trailwoman, Sarah Lamos, to heart. “Don’t think about it. Just do it. If you start second guessing it, you’re already 75% out.” And she was right, I had already contemplated withdrawing, thinking I was in over my head. So, I decided to take her advice and just go for it.
The day of the race, I was feeling nervous and underprepared. I had never run in an official road race, let alone a trail race...and the more I learned about the course, the more I realized, this wasn’t your typical trail race either. It didn’t truly hit home until that whistle blew and I was actually running the course. This was a challenging and diverse beach run, with all the wild and rugged coastal terrain no one asked for... with slippery rocks and seaweed, soupy sand and mud, and massive boulders and rock faces to clamber around. No, I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, and a far cry from my comfort zone of road running. And while every corner turned brought a new and unpredictable challenge, what I was surprised by most that day, was me.
I think it’s fair to say that most women will experience some kind of struggle with confidence at different points in their lives. And while this challenge isn’t unique to women, it’s arguably more varied given all the different stages our bodies (and consequently, our minds) go through during these changes. And of course, this impacts the way we view ourselves. Sarah Lamos has written a couple of blog posts that bare her soul in her difficult discussions around negative self-talk and disordered eating; however, she has also counter-balanced those struggles with strength in her posts about saying yes and meeting new challenges head on as well as the importance of women supporting each other rather than comparing ourselves to one another. That is why I am finding Sarah’s newly formed SJTR Women’s group so important for building that confidence and comradery that we need to see more of between women of all ages. I could write a whole other post about just how important and meaningful this little movement has become in my life, but I digress. Back to the race.
As I mentioned before, I surprised myself that day. There were times on that course when I let myself think I might not finish. I remember feeling energized and amazed by the first half of the course, but by the second half, with tired calves and ankles from running on rocks and a mid-course wipeout that took a chunk out of my right hand, I was over it. I began to grow weary of the relentless terrain, not ever really being able to get the solid footing my inner road runner so desperately craved. Even my arms were sore from climbing over and clutching at slippery seaweed-covered rocks. The adrenaline from the start of the race was dwindling as was my actual energy level. I found it hard to run and chew the energy bars I had, and I lost most of my water when I wiped out. Things were looking grim as I finished the perimeter of Minister’s Island, where the wind picked up and many more rocks lay ahead of me on the 6km left to the finish line. 6km... that was it. In any normal road run, 6 more kms was no big deal, but 6 more of what seemed like unbearably slow kms of this unforgiving course seemed too much for me. I found myself wondering how other people who have done much more challenging races found the strength to finish and how I would never be able to do what they do. I was hitting my low and doubting myself...but for whatever reason, my legs and the rest of my body refused to stop moving...and it fell into whatever crazy rhythm it needed to adapt. So, while my brain was processing all these negative thoughts, it did the other thing it does best on my runs; it shut itself off. Basically, its own way of saying “if you don’t have anything nice to say.” So, there I was, head down, moving forward, not thinking about anything, just keeping my body moving towards that finish line...and I found myself powering through somehow.
When I rounded the final bend on that wicked course and had the wharf in my sights, I could feel the relief, and the dumbest, happiest smile started to spread across my face. My brain woke up and turned itself back on to process the moment, to acknowledge what lay ahead me, and more importantly, to be thankful for what was behind me. I had hit the wall and climbed over it. I had persevered...and there, to witness one my proudest moments, were my fellow SJTR friends, from the main group and women’s group. I almost cried when I saw their smiling faces and heard their cheers from the wharf. There were tons of photos from race day thanks to some awesome organizers who thought of all the little things, and I love to look at those photos, because it captures it all. Even the moment my husband and kids showed up with their signs cheering me on. They actually missed my finish by a few minutes, but it was okay, because I think I would have bawled, like full on ugly cried with snots and the rest of it, if I had seen them right away...and no one likes to look at photos of themselves ugly crying.
Later that night, I sat in the hot tub resting the ol’ muscles and thinking about the day. And the longer I sat there (because it was definitely one of the longest post-run soaks I’ve ever done), I found myself doing something I don’t do very often and should do much more. I was thinking about how amazing my body was. I was feeling grateful for what it had allowed me to achieve that day. I started with my feet and moved up through every part of my body that came through for me...and yes, I did this aloud, so my neighbours might have some new insights into what kind of a person they’re living next to, but I didn’t care. My body deserved it.
Here is what I said to my body:
Feet: You guys have been troublesome in the past...you’re flat, narrow, and I’ve been in and out of orthotics throughout the years, but for some reason, when I started increasing my running distances, I found you did better without the orthotics, and now I don’t need them anymore. We’ve had some moments on our longer runs, with a little pain and some regular blisters, but you ran with it today...pardon the pun...so thank you!
Ankles: Oh, my skinny, little, twiggy ankles. You should have rolled to your death today. SO many rocks, roots, boulders, and branches were trying to get the best of you today, but you refused to succumb to all that. Yes, you rocked, and you never rolled on me, at leaset to the point that I couldn’t go on. Thanks for hanging in there, girls.
Knees: Oh, haven’t we been through some fun times? You two love to remind me how old I’m getting. Like, literally anything can piss you off. Remember a couple years ago, when just the act of picking Sadie up and turning at an awkward angle caused that “pop” and put one of you completely out of commission for almost two months? When we got to rock that sexy knee brace during the summer of 2019? Those were fun times...but look at you now! How you ever managed to get me through that crazy race and not protest once, I’ll never be able to thank you enough. You came through when it mattered most.
Legs: You were the star of the show today. I know I haven’t been treating you right by denying you the strength training that you need to really shine, and I’m so sorry about that. I know that has to become a part of our routine and we will work towards that. But for now, you are my loyal soldiers who keep marching on when I need you to. When I was at my rock bottom today and thought I might not finish, it was you that I could feel working below like the pistons of an engine. Your refusal to stop moving and keep chugging along, that’s what got me through. Since you were still going, I knew I needed to follow your lead.
Hips/IT Band: You’ve been known to protest when you get overused on my high km weeks and this past week was so no exception as I tried to prepare for this race. But you held it together, left me alone, and stayed strong. Thank you!
Arms: I bet you were surprised at how much abuse you had to endure today. You’re not used to being used like this on our runs, are you? You typically just mind your own business and keep yourselves swinging to keep up our momentum, but I made you work today. Climbing over those rocks and boulders while clinging to that slippery seaweed...this was a very active arm workout and I know you’ll be sore tomorrow, but I credit you with some of my smartest techniques to make up time on those tricky stretches, so thank you.
Shoulders: I know sometimes you get sore when I push you harder than we’re used to. Sometimes you start to creep up around my neck in protest, but you recognized how hard we were working and you tried to stay loose and low to keep us comfortable. Thank you.
Mouth/Nose: Way to breathe today, guys. Mouth, I deprived you of water when I wiped out and lost it all. It wasn’t until that water station 13km in that I actually gave you a decent drink, which you quietly and gratefully accepted. I was only too happy to thank you with that delicious Graystone Single Track at the end of our run. Thank you. Nose...I know I don’t give you too much recognition, typically, but I started to realize just how important you are to my runs. You keep me breathing deeply when I need it and that was one of the small miracles of this run. While I cursed the challenging terrain in my head for most of the time, you did something so unexpected in the middle of that hell. You breathed in deeply and forced me to acknowledge the beautiful smell of the salty sea and the sand we were running on. It was one of the few moments that I felt a bit of gratitude during that run, so thank you.
Eyes: Sometimes something gets in you, you get watery and itchy, and we both know I should be wearing glasses all the time now so I can see things at a distance, but one thing you do exceptionally well is observe the ground below with perfect precision. You warn me when to duck, dodge, dive...you name it. Thank you for keeping an “eye” out for me, and yes, I did intend that terrible pun.
Brain: Last, but not least...my beautiful brain. You and I are always fighting against each other. Sometimes that negative self-talk can really jam us up in hard times, even though we both know better than to go down that road...yet we still do it. And today was no exception. Times got hard and we started doubting ourselves; we wandered off into places that explored all the things we couldn’t do. But then, you did something for our mutual self-preservation. You gracefully bowed out and let the legs and the rest of our body take the wheel. You put our trust in them when we couldn’t trust ourselves and they delivered. I want to thank you for that. And I think we need to apply that to so many more challenges that come our way...we don’t need to do this alone. We’ve got back up!
So that’s it. My freaking amazing body, from my ten toes to that beautiful brain, coming through for me that day, and I now recognize, in so many ways throughout life. This race helped trigger a full-on gratitude towards my body that I haven’t experienced since childbirth, because holy crap my body rocked that too! It was a beautiful reminder to shift again in how I view myself. And I freaking rock! My body is not perfect; I’m getting older, I have wrinkles, age spots, and lots of things that I could do without in this whole aging process, but what I do still have is this crazy, powerful, life-giving, race-crushing, self-calming, love-filled body. And I love her...and me! We are a great team and I look forward to many more runs together. And when we can’t do that anymore, we’ll find something else that we can do together, because that’s what love of self is...finding ways to appreciate, take care, and feel gratitude for you and everything you have allowed me to do.