For the Love.....

There's nothing like the feeling of packing to run a race.  I typically over pack.  Only because I need to dress specific for the weather.  Weather in Missouri is known to change in a 12 hour period.  I like to be prepared.  On a race that is an hour away, I find myself traveling with my running girls to stay in a hotel.  Once we've checked into to our hotel we head to the Race Expo.  Packet pick-up.  We're handed a number to pin on our shirt.  A timing chip.  And a brand new shirt with the race logo emblazoned on the front telling the world we were participants in said race.  A shirt worn with pride.  Between the expo and falling asleep there is usually a bit of shopping.  And of course, eating.  Eating something that won't feel like a heavy rock sitting on the gut the next morning, but rather something that will fuel the fire already in our bellies to perform as desired.  After dinner, but still before hitting the pillow, comes the discussion on what to wear.  Shorts?  Capris?  Tights?  Short sleeves with arm sleeves?  Long sleeves?  Jackets?  Laying it all out in an organized fashion.  Making sure iPods and Garmins are properly charging.  Timing chips laced between shoe laces.  Bib numbers pinned onto shirts.  Gu packets at the ready.  Then finally, sleep.  Fitful sleep.  Excited butterflies in the belly sleep.  Alarms usually ring simultaneously.  Early.  Giving us a good hour and a half before we need to be at the start line.  Enough time to fuel ourselves with the proper amount of carbs and protein.  No fiber.  And not too much to drink.  Dressed.  Body Glide applied.  Fueled.  Then the nervous bladder episodes.  I find myself going at least 3 times before walking out of the hotel.  And then again at the port-o-potties.  Once I'm in place at the start line I find myself thinking I need to go again.  Only I know that I've already squeezed everything possible out of my bladder.  It's what we've dubbed "phantom" feelings.  My knee hurts.  Phantom pain.  My hip is tender.  Phantom pain.  I have to pee.  Phantom feeling.  More often than not I experience a variety of phantoms near a race day.  Enjoying the feeling of packing for a race is nothing compared to standing near the start line of one.  Packed like sardines around people locating satellites on wrists, stretching limbs, starting iPods for energizing motivation.  So many people.  All wearing bibs and timing chips.  I'm usually standing with 2 or 3 girls from my local running group.  But.  I feel a common bond with everyone I see.  I can easily strike up a conversation with any person in my space.  And most likely will.  Butterflies.  Excitement so abundant it can be touched.  And then?  We are prompted to start running.  We'll stay packed like sardines as we cross the start line which notifies our timing chips we have indeed started the race.  Usually near the end of mile one we've started to spread out.  Faster people off in the distance.  Slower people stopping to take walk breaks.  I take notice of those around me and try to find my zone.  Sometimes I'm keeping cadence with a friend.  Sometimes I'm flying solo.  If solo I turn up my ipod and just enjoy the scenery. Sometimes I just enjoy the fact that I'm running.  Sometimes I think about the course and the giant hill looming in the distance.  Sometimes I don't even notice the hill.  Sometimes I think about how grateful I am for the body I have with legs that can carry me any distance.  Sometimes I'm hard on myself because the run feels hard and I'm frustrated that it can't always just be easy.  Sometimes?  I'm just indifferent.  I feel, well, nothing.  I'm just out on the road running.  There just happens to be 8,999 people out for a run as well.  The nothing kind of run?  That's the kind I had yesterday.  I'd never experienced a nothing kind of run before yesterday.  Hospital Hill 2013.  The 10k race.  My favorite distance even.  With girls I really enjoy.  With good food and laughter the night before.  Only.  I was indifferent the entire time.  No race butterflies.  No excited packing.  I actually just threw something in my bag hoping I had remembered my socks after pulling out of the driveway.  Not caring what I really wore.  No fitful sleep due to nerves.  No anticipation.  Still a nervous bladder.  But I always seem to have that kind of bladder.  At the start line I felt so indifferent.  Not excited.  Not frustrated.  Not scared.  Just.....nothing.  After the race one of my friends kept asking if I was okay.  Because I'm usually going on and on about every curve, hill, downhill, and mile of the finished course.  But this time I was just quiet.  Like I'd just left my driveway, ran around town, and finished back in my driveway again.  Just another run.  The other girls were so excited wearing the shiny medals and track jackets with the 40th anniversary logo.  I just felt like it was another day on another road.  I'm not sure what happened.  Why I felt like this.  It saddens me a bit to think that I felt that way.  Like maybe I'm over the racing.  Is it because I've just "been there, done that" and need a change?  Is it time to hang up my running shoes and just stop?  That just seems wrong to me.  For the last four years that's become my identity.  Runner Jayne.  Who am I if I don't run races anymore?  Running has become an actual part of me.  Like another child.  I don't think I can ever just stop.  I've just never been so attached to something and then just all of a sudden felt so indifferent about it before.  I'm treading in unknown territory.  I think I need to start training for triathlons again.  A change up.  To remind me why running is my favorite endurance sport.  Maybe I'll find that running was needed for that specific time in my life, but now it needs to take a back seat to make room for something else.  Discovery.  Learning.  Growth.  Who said that the older you were the easier things became?  Nobody.  Because if someone did say that, they were complete morons.