Saturday, I cut a few more notches in my belt. It was a bittersweet day that, in many ways, changed who I am as a person.
Rebekah and I met Roger at the start line around 7:30 to shiver and discuss strategy for our 12K run. It was the first annual 12k Winter Warm Up and I knew it would be a little hilly, but it proved to be a beast.
12k turns out to be about 7.2 miles and would be the longest run I’d done in a while. I was coming off a nice 4-Mile race on Thanksgiving and decided to set my goal pace at 7:46m, which is my buddy Jim’s goal next week for the Huntsville Marathon. If he can do that for 26 miles, I can do it for 7.2! The competition bubbles.
There was also a 6k and the 12k was two loops. I’m not a huge fan of that set up, but it turned out to be kinda cool because we kept running by each other. I had mentally set a goal of 31:00 for the first 4 miles because I did that distance in 28:51 the week before. It seemed manageable and would put me in good position for the last 3.2.
Talking about these paces is a little surreal to me. In March, I was literally unsure if I could “finish” a 5k, let alone bust one at sub 8 after already running 4 miles. But, it’s a testament to what we can do if we stick with something.
Anyway, the course was filled with rolling hills and descents, but not much in terms of flat. I’ve actually come to love hills, though and feel like training with East Nasties has given me an advantage. In fact, there was a solid line of people I train with busting down the other side of the road ahead of me all day long.
To make a long and boring story short, I took first in my age group with a time of 56:39. Thing was, I thought there was no way I’d come close after running the first bastard of a loop. What’s kinda crazy cool is that I ran my first 5k in March at a 9:10 pace and it was a flat course. Yesterday my pace was 7:51 on a tough 12k track.
But that’s good news.
As we were walking back to our cars, Rebekah suddenly tripped and fell straight to the pavement. It was so quick she was already picking herself up before I realized what happened. Halfway up, I heard her say, “My tooth,” as she reached out to pick a white spec off the sidewalk. I was paralyzed.
She stood up and looked at me with a swollen and bloody lip . . . and sure enough, half of her front tooth was gone. I felt an incredible surge of compassion wash through my body. I leaned in, hugged her and said everything would be okay. Her pain was mine and I felt the horror that had to be racing through her mind. The flukiest of accidents had changed the entire tone of the day. The race was gone. The afternoon was gone. The smiles were gone.
I gathered myself, put my arm around her and we staggered to the car. I reassured her it would be okay, but had no idea what to do next. Then, in the most calming of tones, she spoke through her bloody hand, “Well, good thing my dad is a dentist.”
I was so proud of the way she handled her fate. Roger gracefully followed as we drove to her parents and knocked on the door. An unsuspecting mother opened the door to see her little girl in pain and it brought a tear to my eye. We explained what happened and her father calmly assured her everything would be just fine.
“Honey, this is what I do, I will take care of you.”
She laid back on the couch with ice on her lip and I knelt by her side wiping the moisture from her cheek. It’s the unknown that scares us and there was enough to last me a lifetime.
I took her car and waited in agony for some news. Would he be able to save it? Would she need a new tooth? Was a dentist’s daughter ready to face the world with a cracked smile? I felt helpless, but the flood of compassion kept rushing through my veins. In the face of her pain I literally felt my ego dripping away.
Two hours later I got a text message with a picture of her pretty smile restored in between big swollen lips. It was one of the greater senses of relief I’ve had in years. I could feel my body relax, a true, deep, and sincere calm. Hearing her upbeat voice helped even more.
The power of emotions is undeniable and I feel like the last year of training has unearthed many buried feelings. Saturday was another roller coaster that started on top, sank to the bottom, but set the tone for another magnificent climb to greater heights.
I didn’t swim, bike, or run on Sunday, but a renewed energy had me bouncing off the walls. I wanted to be with friends. Help people. Listen, love, and learn. I felt a sense of gratitude to be surrounded by so many amazing people and training for an unimaginable quest like Ironman with four other great guys and an inspirational coach.
It may be fleeting, but for now I have an increased sense of the moment. I’m excited and grateful for each training session that lies ahead. I’m optimistic that I will continue to improve and reach internal and external goals that have been patiently waiting for me. It’s all about enjoying the process and putting in the work. And considering the overall winner in that 12k beat me by 20+ minutes, I certainly have room for improvement.
