Speedy Canizales

It seems to me that we spent most of our days thinking about the things we have to do, the things we want to do, or the things we want.  This takes up so much time that we (or at least, I) seldom think about the things that we do have; the things that we are grateful to have.

I am grateful for my health.  Save for the occasional headache (or migraine), allergy, cold or cough, I have been healthy this year.  My good health has allowed me to do amazing things – learn to swim, compete in triathlons, and run races.  I’m probably in the best shape of my life right now.

I am grateful for my husband and my family.  They are always around to support me, even when I am difficult and overbearing.  I’ve heard someone say that people who love you even when they’ve seen your ugly side are the ones worth keeping in life.  I second that.

(I tend to get sentimental after I have a few days off, when I’ve had a chance to re-energize.)

*****

I spent Thanksgiving Day doing two things meant to counter-act one another: running a race and eating lots of food.

I’ve always wanted to run a Thanksgiving race, ever since seventh grade when I lost the Turkey Trot due to some bad advice.  Every year in Junior High we ran the Turkey Trot, a two-mile course around the school.  Any girl or boy who broke the course record won a turkey.  I knew I wasn’t fast enough to win a turkey but I was fast enough to place in the top three.

On the day of the race my mom told me to eat well so that I would have lots of energy for the race.  In my little seventh grade mind I thought that applied to every meal, including the one right before the race – lunch.  That day I ate everything I had on my lunch tray – a turkey sandwich and a carton of milk – thinking it would make me more competitive.  Anyone who’s ever run a race knows that you should be as light as possible.  Eating a huge meal right before a running race would focus all the body’s energy into converting that food into energy, and not running a race.  I don’t know why I did this.

The race started right after lunch, and when I got to the finish line I felt fine.  I was nervous but feeling good.  When the starting gun went off I got into my groove, passing people as we would our way around campus, up the hill, and down the back part of the course.  I was doing fine until the last hill, the last part of the course.  I started to get a cramp on my right side, then my left.  It got more intense with every step I took.  I could see the first place girl right in front of me, within striking distance, and I could not muster the energy to chase her down.  There wasn’t enough distance left or energy left in me to catch her.  In the end I came in second place by three seconds.

When the race rolled around the following year I still didn’t win first place – I think I came in third or fourth.  I don’t know what happened.  I didn’t make the mistake of eating a big lunch like last year so I was pretty certain I would win.  I passed the girl who won last year towards the start of the race so I thought I had it, but I didn’t count on another girl being so far out front that I didn’t see her, and on another girl passing me towards the finish.  It was a travesty.  Thanksgiving races were ruined for me after that.

*****

Last week I decided to give Thanksgiving racing another chance when I ran the Xterra Turkey Trot at Topanga State Park.  I hadn’t been running as many miles as I should but I was doing well in my weekly track workouts.  I hoped to finish in the top three in my age division.

Even a turkey came out to race on Thanksgiving

The race was more competitive than the last trail race I ran back in September.  I could tell from the number of people that were there that morning and the fact that the race was sold out but I was determined to do well.  So much of running is mental; you can easily lose a race by talking yourself out of it, by telling yourself that person in front of you is too far to catch, by giving in to the little aches and pains of running.  The first half of the course was tough – uphill for three miles – but the second half was downhill and flat.  I knew that if I got through the ascent, a long slog along the hillside, that I would be able to pick up the pace on the downhill.  Or so I thought.

See the little specks on the ridge?  That’s us!

It turns out my problem is the downhill.  Running downhill gives me side aches, and makes me run slower than I should.  Running downhill means I bounce more, shaking my insides and giving me pain.  I had to stop twice during the race: once because the side pain traveled to my diaphragm and it became hard to breathe (I hate when this happens) and once because I hoped I could walk away the pain.  I got a bit discouraged with two miles to go after a woman passed me on the downhill, the one that keep saying “good job!” to everyone that passed her up the hill.  (I find it very annoying when people do things like this during a race.  If they have enough energy to congratulate people that pass them then obviously they are not working hard enough, and I’ll be damned if they beat me.)  I was still in the game, though, and got a second wind once I hit the single track part of the trail.

I love running downhill on single track dirt trails.  To me it’s like riding a roller coaster, with lots of twists and turns.  On a single track trail there are so many obstacles – low tree branch, rocks, hairpin curve – that I concentrated on avoiding them instead of the pain in my side.  Single tracks are so much fun.

*****

I finished the race as the 9^th female overall, and second in my age division. I have a theory that my age division (30-34) is the easiest one because women my age are either busy having kids or busy working.  I have a feeling that women in the age divisions next to mine (25-29 and 35-40) will kick my butt, so I am striking while the iron is hot.