Fear

A 12 mile run was on my marathon training schedule. I decided that I could run strong and stay committed to the distance if I registered for a 20k race. I already know that I can run 12.4 miles. But I didn't want to trudge through a boring, cold, predictable run on the boardwalk. Different scenery is good. Running amongst others makes longer distances seem shorter. And of course, I'm always up for a challenge. After all, I was on freakin' fire from last week's 10 mile race- I had a respectable new PR under my belt and I was ready to tackle 12.4. No sweat!

I never experienced a trail race before. I didn't think about it too much. I just figured I won't be first and I won't be last, so it's no big deal... When they handed me a trail map at registration, I actually said something like this and didn't even look at the map.

When the race begins, I realize that there are not that many people running the 20k. It can't be 100 people. I assume that the race was not adequately advertised so this is why. It's barely 40 degrees out and we are all bouncing and stretching at the start and finally, the race official says go! Only one mile in and the pack that I was in is already thinned out to maybe 4 people. I know my pace very well, and I realize that I am running a little too fast to have to keep this up for 11.4 more miles. So I hang back a bit and make sure I keep the guys that are just ahead of me within my sight line. This works out ok until the trail starts winding and there are times when I can't see them. I settle for the blur of their clothing through the brush and trees and this is how I navigate my way through these woods. There are no race officials anywhere to be seen. There are no water stops. We are climbing hills on paths that accommodate only one (thin) person. We are going over makeshift bridges that are 2 foot wide planks of wood. The downhill is just as dramatic as the uphill. This trail is not well marked and it's winding and to me, it's endless. And wouldn't you know it, I lost the blur of people ahead of me.

I can hear the people behind me. I realize that I am leading them. And I have no idea where I'm going. And I am not a woods kind of girl. I've never been here before, I don't know how big this park is, and I have no idea how to get out. We're at mile four and I see a guy ahead that has slowed down- no, he has practically stopped. I decide that this guy (even though he doesn't know it) is going to lead me through these woods. I already know that most guys don't like to be left in the dust ESPECIALLY by a small girl- and I am right. As soon as he sees me he picks up his pace. I chat with him and he even gives me a gatorade out of his backpack as we still have not seen a water station and we are approaching the last mile or so of the first loop.

As I type this, I am not giving enough emphasis to how utterly and purely relieved I am to have found someone to lead me through these woods. I have a genuine (though fairly irrational) fear of getting lost. I panic when I lose people in a store. I don't like "I'm going to this section, I'll be back in a few minutes" type shopping with people. I get a little scared when I can't find people I'm with. I'm still not giving this fear enough credit. Probably because I am having an issue with the idea of "speaking it" out and giving it power by admitting to it. Oh screw it. I have a fear of getting lost. It gives me anxiety. It's not paralyzing anxiety, but still, it weakens me. And I do not like when I make conscious efforts to give in to weakness. This fear of getting lost wins against me all the time. I don't go to grocery stores I am unfamiliar with. My fiance knows that he can't separate from me for too long when we are out anywhere. The absurd thing about this fear, is that I KNOW that if I "get lost" that nothing horrible is going to happen. I'm not afraid of getting abducted or anything wacky like that. I just have an unexplainable genuine anxiety when it comes to being alone or getting lost in unfamiliar places. I let this fear have power and strength over me. I allow it to limit my life. I have asked loved ones to work around it on my behalf. I ask them to cooperate with this fear and let it determine what we can and cannot do. Such a compromise is a personal failure to me.

I did not expect this failure to rear it's ugly head during a race. But here it is.

So I pace with this guy and we talk about... whatever... It's amazing how much you get to know a total stranger when you pair up and run with them. He tells me about his daughters. I tell him about my sons. He was/is a wrestling coach. He's an accountant of some sort. He's running the NYC Marathon (his first marathon) this year. We will both run the Jersey Shore Marathon Relay. I pull at any string I can find to keep the conversation going. He is worn out and tired and telling me that he is going to quit after the first loop. I gently encourage him to continue but I am careful not to be too insistent or too inconsiderate in my plea to have him continue this with me. I don't know this man well enough to insist or guilt or push him into continuing. He has no idea that I am dependent on him. He has no idea that he saved me from the fear that rules and always wins. Therefore, he sticks with his decision and he leaves the course after the first loop.

Now what do I do?

I find a new savior.

A well mannered guy in his mid 50's or so approaches and I pair myself up with him. With 6.2 miles behind me and a new partner, I'm ready to trudge on. In the very same fashion that I managed with the last guy, I become fast friends with this person and we chat through this run. My mind is at ease for most of the time. I know I can finish this crazy race. I'm ok with the fact that I'm not doing it in record speed. I don't have to lead. I don't have to strain to follow... Hey, wait.

I'm practically walking- just barely a jog. I'm not challenged at all, in fact. Keeping up with this man is TOO easy for me. I am not running. I'm not challenged. I'm just... meandering through the woods, really.

See that? The fear won. It took my purpose from me. It took my will and strength and my ability and my goal. In one quick flash, it took everything that I went out there for in the first place. I'm meandering the woods with a stranger. This is not why I came here. (Don't get me wrong, he's a nice person and all, and I respect him and his efforts incredibly. I'm just not into hanging out in the woods with strangers on the weekends, that's all...)

When my brain grasps this disappointing truth, I quietly acknowledge my own personal defeat. How did this happen? The fear isn't supposed to win. Not here. Not while I'm running. Running empowers me. And the fear squashed that without warning. I can't believe I let it win. I didn't even see it coming so it didn't occur to me to fight it. I submitted immediately. And now I am running (barely) really slow in the woods with a stranger. Anyone who knows me knows this is not on my top 100 list of ideal things to do on a Saturday. The fear that I opened the door to and allowed to invade my space is not giving me a choice. This is where I am.

I finish the race with this kind man. He even encourages me to sprint to the finish and allows me to finish ahead of him. Tee-riffic.

So now what? I have to do that race again. I need to defeat the fear. And I will. I don't like the woods. I don't like being alone in an unfamiliar place. I don't like getting lost. But most of all, I don't like letting fear rule my life, even in the slightest way. Fear will not rule my run. It stole this 20k from me. I have to take it back. That might sound silly to some people and that's fine.

2 Timothy 1:7 For God has not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.