Some things are bigger than a race.  As much work and sacrifice and mental/spiritual effort you put into that date circled on your calendar this year, there are some things in life that just make running seem insignificant.  This weekend was a stark reminder of that for me.  At the end of each fall I pick a race in February that keeps me motivated to run through the winter months.  This year it was the USATF National Cross Country Championships at Forest Park in St Louis, MO.

I did some different training this season designed by my fellow coach Matt Musiel (you can read about it here and here).  For the last two years I have been fighting some serious leg fatigue that is a result of a strange muscle imbalance.  Working with a physical therapist it has come and gone and I have shown flashes of what I consider to be some of my potential.  I was hoping this weekend would be a “gone” race.  I was wrong.

The hard part of writing a race report is knowing what details to leave out and trying to avoid the typical clichés of running writing.  After a long week of school (we are still adjusting to having a son and teaching), we took off for the relatively easy 5 hour drive to Columbia, MO. No way were we making the whole trip in one night.  By the way, Show-Me-State drivers be crazy.  Sleeping in a bit and enjoying a breakfast at the La Quinta with some firefighters in town for a conference, we took off and got to the race course with time to spare.

Grabbing my race packet and cheering on my boy Craig Christians in the Masters Race, Brenda and I ducked back into the safety of our Ford.  By safety I mean warmth.  Air temp was 20 degrees and the wind was blowing across the fields there at a steady 20-25mph.  Fun running at its finest.  Leaving my wife in the car to her grading, I warmed up on a tour of this urban gem of St Louis county.  Going past the zoo, tennis courts, outdoor theaters, and plenty of side trails made the wind seem a bit less biting, but it still kept me in check.

Grabbed the spikes, did some drills, and I was ready to go.  Or so I thought.  I had no illusions of placing well this event.  There were some truly big dogs on the pre-meet entry list, but I was hoping maybe I could get pulled along to a solid time.  Alas, it was not to be.  A variety of factors hindered me.  The wind and weather had nothing to do with it.  The course was rutted and muddy.  Now usually I run really well in really crappy conditions.  But with my legs not feeling good, the crappy conditions just made things worse.  I still went after though and made it through 8k in right around 28:00 flat.  Still really solid all things considered.  Wheels proceeded to go in some direction other than staying on.  Completing 6 x 2k laps was an exercise in patience and stubbornness.  Fortunately I had my wife and Craig every so often to keep my spirits up.

But man it was tough to keep going.  I was hoping against hope that my legs would come around, so I kept telling myself, “Keep competing, keep competing”.  That kept my mind focused elsewhere than descending into a 3k long funk.  Crossing the finish line well back in the pack is not an experience I am used to.  It was tough, and very humbling.  After moping for long longer than I should have, my wife took me a local establishment:

Thus the title of this post, Perspective.  I got to spend a full weekend with my beautiful/wonderful/insert other glowing adjective here wife.  My baby boy was giggling and happy when we picked him up from my folks.  If the worst thing that happens to me this week is that I run a bad 12k, that is pretty good.  Sadly, it was not the worst thing that happened to me.  RIP, Grandpa Bud.  Give our love to Grandma.  So keep it in perspective dear readers.  Whether you are hurt, or racking up some PRs, it is just running.  It is a beautiful thing to be able to do what we do, but there are other far more beautiful things that life contains.  Just keep that in mind the next time you worry about your splits.