Running Your Best

Running Your Best

What does it mean to run your best?  I use to think that it meant getting to the finish line with absolutely nothing left in the tank.  And I thought that meant training to the edge of my ability.  Leaving each and every hard run like a sweat soaked exclamation point.

There were a few races where I knew I had done my best.  I knew that I trained well, executed well and left nothing on the table.  I would be filled with a sincere sense of accomplishment. I knew I had done my best.

The truth is I can’t do that anymore.  I cannot run 7 days a week.  I cannot double up my hard workouts.  I cannot run my best.  Now it is left to me to redefine what ‘best’ is.  Because the reality is that no one else defined my training and racing.  No one else stood by with a measuring stick and decided if I was holding up my end of the bargain.

These conditions for success, for ‘best’ were and are self created.  Training and racing to the edge of your ability whether you are gifted or not can be an out of balance situation.  It’s easy to find those ex-athletes who gave everything and now cannot even participate in the sport because they are either physically or mentally broken.

Sometimes when you go to the dark place in training and give 100% it is too much.  You are giving something you can’t get back.

I ran a 5k race with my daughter on Thanksgiving Day.  We started at the back.  I ran with her for a mile or so and then stretched it out a little.  I didn’t race per se, I just let my pace and form expand to fill the void.  No max heart rate.  No sucking wind. Just stretching it out and having fun passing people and chatting with other runners and following people and noticing things.

Inside a race is an interesting view.  In a family 5k like this you’ll see lots of drama as folks start to fade after a mile or so.  You’ll see young kids racing along, intent.  You’ll see those people who are running at the edge of their ability – maxing it out.

I was not maxing it out.  I was at what I might refer to as a comfortable tempo pace.  Every time I’d pass someone whom I knew I’d pause and chat a bit, make some wise cracks.

Finally on the last hill before the finish I saw my friend Charlie up ahead.  He was racing.  I pulled up beside him and told him that I was now in his age group.  He was working hard, running well.  I coached him to hold his form and focus on the last downhill into the finish.

On the final stretch I held back any final surges or sprints or heroics, letting several folks go past, especially Charlie, who had a great race.  I didn’t want to be ‘that guy’ that comes up from behind at the end of a race and ditches a bunch of people in the chute because he’s been sand-bagging it.

I think I ran my best in that race.  I’m sure of it.  I ran with my daughter and my friends on a beautiful fall morning.  I was with my community of runners.  I stretched out my legs and breathed the air.  I didn’t leave it all out there, but I did participate in the fullness of the race.

It’s up to each of us to draw our own line on what is a worthwhile effort.  There is a time and a place to race on the edge, but it is not every time.