Stuck in My Head
Why did I hate this?
What erased that hope from two years earlier?
“I’m going to Boston!” I remember screaming to my running
friends as I looked at my marathon time. We had just finished the Mount. Lemon
Marathon. My goal had been to do my best, and to my surprise, I had not only
qualified to run in the Boston Marathon but had taken second place in my
division.
"Lucky. That is the top of my bucket list," a
friend said.
I trained for Boston, not knowing that in 2020, COVID-19
would make its destructive debut and halt the marathon.
“I guess I missed my chance.” I smiled, trying to block the
disappointment.
I couldn't believe it when the Boston Marathon invited
those who had qualified for 2020 to run for the April 2022 marathon. I had
thought my opportunity had passed.
“I am going to Boston!” I could optimistically claim again
and immediately resume training.
I headed to Boston with a mix of excitement and loneliness.
The dreary weather had impeded my sightseeing plans and intensified my
emptiness of having no one to celebrate with me.
I shoved my way into the massive sea of 30,000 runners. “I
should be happier for this,” I thought, but my attention focused on my
solitude.
I shuffled at the start line, readjusting my gear.
“Go!”
I sprinted out of the corral and gave it everything I had,
which typically works for me, and for the first two miles, I ran at a robust
pace. I blocked out the spectators as I concentrated on my goal. Around the
fourth mile, I couldn’t maintain my speed, and my mood fouled as more runners
passed me. I had spent essentially two years training for the event. Why wasn’t
I performing at my peak?
“This sucks,” I said. “Why do I do this to myself? This
isn’t fun. This is my last marathon.”
The loneliness of the trip and my slow pace boggled me even
more. I had spent thousands to be there and hated it. The negativity seeping
from my heart continued to slow me down.
As I slugged through the race, I finally noticed the
massive celebration along the route. Over 500,000 spectators were there to
watch the race. People lined the course from start to finish with barbeques,
banners, and parties. I observed the other runners, who seemed to focus only on
their run as I was doing. As I kept pushing forward, I made eye contact with
one of the spectators on the sideline as he cheered for me. I matched his
enthusiasm and threw my arm in the air. “Yeah!” I screamed.
Instantly, adrenaline burst in me and boosted my speed. I
did it again, raising my arm to the next group of people, and yelled, “Yeah!”
They responded in equal delight.
Joy flooded me. I loved this. Typically, social
interactions are my drug. I can get high just being around enthusiastic people.
Had I discovered something?
I did it again and felt phenomenal.
“Stephanie, you have been doing this all wrong. Stop
focusing on the run or the speed. Just have fun."
From that point, as I ran, I played to the crowd, and they
responded to me as if I was the most significant person on the course. People
went crazy, and their excitement became mine.
I moved my position to run next to spectators, and before I
knew it, hands flared out to me, everyone wanting to connect with a runner. I
slapped as many hands as possible, and it felt like a fountain of dopamine
poured into me.
“This is amazing!”
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