The View From the Back of the Pack

I dealt with a harsh reality this week.  Let me begin by acknowledging some harsh realities I’ve already been privy to.  1) I’m not the fastest runner in the world. 2) I’m not the fastest runner in Ohio.  3) I’m not the fastest runner in my own household.  4) Ok, let’s face it – I’m almost never the fastest runner in any group.

I’m usually not the slowest either.  Until this week.

I hadn’t been to our running club in well over a year, but after bumping into a few other runners at a race, Dan and I felt inspired to rejoin the group. Let me tell you what, January in Ohio is a tough time to get yourself pumped up to join a regular running group that meets at 7:00 p.m. on Tuesday nights.  Normally, I’m tucking myself into bed with a good book right around 8:30, so my feelings about evening running can be summed up as follows: violent opposition.  I need to be dragged screaming and kicking out the door to get moving in the evening.  There are entire races (ahem… Las Vegas Marathon) that I’d love to run, but I’ve completely written them off of my wish list because they’re at the wrong time of day.

Nonetheless, we strapped up our shoes, feet still blistered from the half marathon last weekend.  We grabbed our dog, a headlamp, and a heap of good intentions, and we headed out to meet up with the group.  I started with a pretty positive attitude.  I was happy to see everyone!  We were welcomed back enthusiastically after our long absence!  As we set out to run, I was reminded of a couple of reasons (besides my general circadian rhythm) that I’ve seldom chosen the evening run.  My legs felt tired and sluggish, and most significantly, it was so dark that, despite my headlamp, I was terrified I was going to trip and going flying across the craggy sidewalk.  So, I shortened my stride accordingly, and I made due, and eventually I started to get into a groove and to feel not-that-bad.

But then I noticed… No else seemed to be having a problem.  Within the first few minutes of our run, people were flying past me on both sides until I stopped hearing footsteps behind me at all.  Had I separated myself that much from the next person behind me?  That would be hard to imagine.  And then it dawned on me.  I was in last place.

Ok, the first rule of running club (if there were rules) would probably be that it’s not a race.  Riiiiight.  And if you believe that, I’ve got an investment opportunity for you.  I know we’re all there to enjoy each other’s company and get a workout.  We should each be training in the way that makes the most sense for us.  Maybe for me that’s an easier day, and maybe for the other runners it’s a harder day.  Or maybe I should accept the reality that I am, in fact, the slowest runner in this group on this day.  There.  I said it.  I was the slowest runner today.  I know no one’s judging me.  (Ok, maybe they are, but I guess I don’t have a choice.) The reality is that I’ve never judged anyone running in the back of the pack.  In fact, I’m generally happy that they’re there to take that distinction because you can’t be a mid-packer like me without having some folks to comprise the back of the pack.

Nonetheless, I have to grapple with what this means to me.  Am I not the runner that I thought I was?  Am I seeing the effects of aging (uh, I’m 34 – I thought I had some good years left) and struggling to keep up with my peers and my former self?  My default reaction is to come up with a negative doomsday explanation for my performance.  My self-narrative looked like this: “I shouldn’t have come here. This is embarrassing. I obviously don’t belong in this group. I was working hard tonight just to finish in last place – imagine if I’d taken it any easier! I haven’t been working out hard enough. I used to be able to keep up with this group. What’s everyone thinking about me right now? I bet they think I haven’t been running at all, but I have, so why do I suck now?”

It was a little harsh, but it’s honest.

So here’s the long and short of it.  I’ve never entered a race and worried about whether I would finish in last place.  The reality is that the pool of runners has always been, and likely will continue to be, large enough that if I continue to train and plan for races, it’s unlikely that this fear will be realized.  However, in my smaller group of experienced runners comprised of a few athletes who make a conscious choice to be running on Tuesday night when they could, instead, be at happy hour (and just to be clear, as soon as the run ends, we will all be in the bar, so we’re still getting the best of both worlds)… Anyways, in that smaller, more focused group, I run the risk of being at the back of the pack.  And it doesn’t have to be the big terrible scary thing that I’ve imagined.  Why can’t it be a good thing?  Why not commend myself for associating with people who are likely to make me better instead of people who will allow me to settle?

Perhaps you’ve heard the following quote: “If you’re the smartest person in the room, then you’re in the wrong room.”  (After a brief Google search, I couldn’t confidently find out to whom it should be attributed.)  In other words, you’re not going to benefit from surrounding yourself with people who don’t challenge you.  And the same thing is probably true in running.  Sure sometimes, I’d like to win.  There are times and tiny (very tiny) races where I get to be at the front of the pack or even walk away with an age group award!  I won’t ever stop coveting those little victories, but it’s important that I see the view from the other side.  In order to make myself better, I need to know what better looks like.  I need to be surrounded by and inspired by the people who look like me but run faster times to remind myself that it’s possible and to give me a reason to try a little bit harder.

So, instead of my hateful internal dialogue after my last place finish, here’s what I wish I would have said to myself:

“Congratulations on being one of only a few people who bothered to get off the couch and run 5.7 miles on a dark Tuesday night in January when all you wanted to do was curl up in your pajamas.  You, my friend, are part of the elite group we know as runners.  When your coworkers ask what you did last night, you will get to enjoy the privilege of answering that you went for a long run (“Yes, outside. No, it’s actually not impossible at this time of year. Yes, I do wear a flashlight on my head.”) while they were watching The Bachelor.  And that’s something you should be proud of.”