This Is Not a Victory Lap

Me + Teammate at Finish Line PT

It's the eve of the Big Event. The one I trained and sacrificed and lost sleep to attend. The Olympic Trials Marathon. I did everything in my power to get here, and now the moment is at hand and I simply don't have the words. I don't know what to say.

I thought about writing about shoes. For those who don't know, there's this whole shoe controversy going on, where Nike has innovated a shoe that may give runners an advantage. It costs an arm and a leg. Here at the trials, they gave out their new alpha-shoe (aptly named) to every trials competitor for free, and suddenly runners are throwing the "nothing new on race day" rule out the window. The competitor in me also wants to wear them tomorrow because "everyone else might be wearing them and getting an advantage" but this time, unlike in Philly, the competitor isn't winning. The voice inside me that says, "You already have feet problems, you don't know what these will do to your feet. Live to fight another day" is winning. And also, I'm sick of the Great Shoe Debate.

Yep that's a jacked-up foot

So I thought about writing about what it was like to train amidst other qualifiers for this race. And here's the thing: when it comes to locals who qualified for the Trials, it's the top of the top in NYC running. Only the best get to go to this race, so those are the people training together, and suddenly, whether it's the short turnaround after Philly or lack of talent or whatever, I'm not keeping up. I literally cannot do the workouts these other women are doing, and it's frustrating. It's not that I feel competitive with them, it's more that I feel left out. Or like I should be able to join in, but for some reason can't hack it. It's kind of insane to feel this way, when I achieved my goal! I get to go to this amazing event that I qualified for! And yet. There's always "and yet."

More very professional-looking bottles

That's all a little depressing, however, when this really should be a celebration. So the thing I'm going to write about is the idea of a marathon being a celebration. For all of those who heard me talk about how I'm not in the best shape, and I'm not going to PR or even come close, I know you meant well when you said this but I have to make something very clear: The Olympic Trials Marathon Is Not a Victory Lap. A victory lap is a 400m jog with a flag draped over your shoulders, smiling and waving to fans. A marathon will never, ever be a victory lap. Even if I run the very slowest we're allowed, which for women is 3:14:59-pace at mile 16 (or else we get removed from the course), it's still not going to be a walk in the park. This course is hilly. And 26.2 miles long. I will try to smile and wave the best I can, but make no mistake: it's still a race. I'd still like to perform to the best of my current ability.

Someone really likes the new DPNYC gear!

Therefore, I ate my white carbs today, and paid attention to hydrating, and stayed off my feet, and took Zicam . . . and tomorrow I'm going to go out there and experience what it's like to run in the Olympic Trials. I'm going to stay present. I'm going to bring with me, in spirit, all of the people who I know tried so incredibly hard to do this tremendous thing, because they deserve to be here, too. I'm going to bring all of the luck-wishers and cheerleaders and supportive friends and family I have with me. And it's going to be painful and hard, and I'm going to get frustrated on the uphills, but I'll also be excited when I pass someone, and even more excited when I see people I know on the side of the course, yelling their heads off. Because this is the marathon.