Here’s how I feel after a race:
Immediately: intense relief that I am no longer running
Thirty minutes to two hours after: relief, cramping, stiffness, thirst, hunger, nausea, soreness from chafing, satisfaction, triumph.
Two to ten hours later: pride, optimism, satisfaction, jubilation.
The next day: Regret that I didn’t run faster.
That’s right. Regret. It kicks in the day after just about every race I’ve ever run, and here’s what I have to say to myself:
Wait, what? I’m sorry, was that REGRET? That you didn’t RUN FASTER? Do you have any idea how hard it was to finish?! You remembered five minutes after the race, when you knew the sad truth that your surge at the end was not because you’re strong, but because you could not take ANOTHER SECOND OF PAIN and had to get across that line.
You remembered thirty minutes later, as you commiserated with your compatriots about everyone’s goal pace for next year, and grinned like the Cheshire cat the entire way home.
You remembered that afternoon as you poured Moet in celebration, fighting tears of pride.
Surely you remembered in the middle of the night when you woke up at 3 a.m. in desperate need of Advil thanks to hill 1, 3 or 5… or perhaps a combination.
But how quickly you forget. How quickly you start to analyze each portion of the race, thinking you could have, should have, picked off a few seconds by speeding up just a little bit more down that hill, or putting more into that last mile when you were almost done.
Don’t you remember that at mile 12 you weren’t sure you could even keep going, let alone go faster? Don’t you remember Ted telling you in calm tones, repeatedly, each next step of the course because you were ready to stop and needed to hear exactly how close that line was in order to keep going? How can you forget that, so soon? It was a triumph that you didn’t stop. One of the hardest, most amazing things you’ve ever done, was just that you kept going.
You remember the pain, but the memory of just how much pain is starting to fade, and it’s replaced by self-doubt. You no longer trust that you gave it your all. You think, perhaps, you could have given just a little more.
STOP.
There are times when it is appropriate to learn from a poor race performance, to let it motivate you to do better next time, to train harder, to race better.
But not every race. That kind of dissatisfaction with your performance is only acceptable when you know you could have done better while you’re finishing, when you know as you start walking on the course that you really could keep going but you’re choosing not to.
But when you finish triumphant, when you feel intense relief to have made it across that finish line, followed by a surge of emotional pride because it was one of the hardest things you’ve ever done to keep going, there should be no doubts the next day. No anger at yourself for not picking it up at mile 12.5… for surging 10 yards from the finish instead of 200.
No.
Just, no.
Celebrate your real successes. Allow yourself to feel pride.
By all means, train harder for the next race – but do it because this race showed you how far your training can get you, not because you’ve micro-analyzed each mile and are convinced you should have done 13 seconds better.
Immediately after each race, take a moment to reflect. Remember the struggle. You are closest to the moments of challenge that led you to feel relief and triumph at the end. Capture them, hold them in your heart, remember how strong you were to get through them.
Because you will forget. If we didn’t, we’d never race again 😉
Oh this is so very, very good! I am so guilty of this. I actually cried driving home from Pittsburgh because of my time. My mom and sister told me I was being ridiculous because it was such a huge accomplishment. =) My new years resolution next year is to just be proud of my races. And know I have done my best 😉
It’s hard to remember how hard you worked after the fact! Glad your family talked some sense into you!
I have never felt regret after a race. Heck, it’s been a month since my first HM and I’m still feeling “pride, optimism, satisfaction, jubilation”. I put a 13.1 sticker on my car and every time I see it, I feel happy.
Of course, I’m not very competitive. I know I will never be the fastest and I don’t even like running fast. I like a slow jog where my mind can wander and my music can lift me up. I’m in it for fun, for the nice legs, for a rounder butt, for getting outside. I love walking into the house after a run and hearing my husband ask, “How was it?” My answer is always, “Awesome.”
That is awesome Mair! I was the same way until recently – I think the more I race the same distance repeatedly, the more I secretly hope to see improvement each time I race, and the more satisfaction I get when I do have a great race. But having a great race is just as much about effort in as it is what I get out of it!