The Runner’s Pandemic “Wall”

I remember sitting at my desk in the office just a few days short before the whole world shut down. It was Thursday, March 12th, 2020, the day before it was declared COVID-19 a National Emergency. I was reading my Runner’s World magazine in between calls at work, trying to decide what new sneakers I would purchase to train in. I had previously ran two half marathons, and I was ready for my next challenge; a full marathon. I had dreams of someday competing in the Boston Marathon so this was the next step in my journey. The Maine Marathon would be the race I would need to compete in to qualify.

Hanging from my office cube wall laid out a highly detailed marathon training plan consisting of interval runs, long runs and cross training. In between training days, were about 30 or more races I had scheduled and pre-signed up for throughout the summer, (I honestly lost count), with my Full Marathon scheduled for October of 2020. I remember it was in this moment, my work phone rang which made me look up at my computer screen. Pausing for a moment, I read the subject line in my most recent email that I received minutes prior. It read, “IMPORTANT: Event Cancellation”. My first 5K of the year that was scheduled for that upcoming Saturday had been cancelled due to concerns surrounding the coronavirus. Virtual, it said. About a month goes by, we are now working from home. I received another email. “We’re going virtual!” One of my favorite races of the year, the Travis Mills Memorial Day 5K, cancelled. Then another one, “IMPORTANT: Event Update”, half marathon cancelled and gone virtual. The week after, I get another one. “Important Race Update Announcement: TD Beach 2 Beacon Road Race Cancelled for 2020.” The emails kept on flooding in on a weekly basis. I kept on eating not only the money spent on these races, but also the pure depression that came with it. “Weekly Back Cove 5K Series Event Cancelled”. Another one, “Our refund policy.” Maine Marathon, cancelled. My heart shattered. The marathon that I would’ve run to attempt to qualify for the Boston Marathon, cancelled. I cried. I cried a lot.

Running had become my identity, my whole entire world. It wasn’t just the sport I fell in love with but it was the community. I fell in love with the butterflies that I got in my stomach lined up at the start line as the horn sounded off. I fell in love with the adrenaline you got when you were on the last mile and the finish line was in sight. I fell in love with crossing the finish line, grabbing your medal and high fiving all of the crowd cheering you on. I fell in love with the post-race conversations over a cold beer. Scheduled live races gave me drive, ambition and helped me set goals for myself physically and mentally. If you know me, I love people and not having that community to run with on Saturday’s absolutely destroyed me. Wear your mask, they said. Fifteen days to slow the spread. I kept holding on to hope that someday soon we would be able to run together again. Stay home. Gyms, closed. It’s not safe to run outside with others, they said. Keep your distance, in fact don’t see people at all. Be isolated. My whole identity got stripped from me within a matter of weeks. Could I have still kept running outside by myself? Or even ran the races I had signed up for virtually? Sure. Did I want to? Absolutely not. I was angry at the world. I wanted to run with people. I never realized how much weight I had into just one hobby, until it was taken right out of my hands.

Over the past two years, I am confident to make the assumption that mostly everyone has been put into some tough situations. I feel like I can relate to musicians. Even though that is their livelihood, and running wasn’t my means of making an income, the thought of shows getting canceled one after the other can do some damage mentally for someone. Not being able to do what I love took a huge toll on me. Part of what the last couple of years has taught me is not to put so much weight into what I do. Because when that thing is not there, you feel completely worthless. So that is really similar to what I experienced not having running in my life.

I am a firm believer in the fact that everything happens for a reason though. The past couple of years have taught me some good but tough life lessons. Tangible, external goals are important. They provide direction, structure, and a measurable outcome to shoot for. But, 2020 was an interesting year for racing to say the least. Most people as well as myself included have been dealing with the harsh reality of their races being canceled, feeling disappointment followed quickly by lack of motivation. I had the feeling of aimlessness with training that dipped into the mindset of “what’s the point?”. Many of us runners define the success of a season based on the results of the races. Over the last few months, I’ve realized when you take the end result out of the equation it creates space to learn more about yourself. Things like goal and achievement orientation seem much clearer when you’re forced to discover what motivates you to put in the work without a race on the horizon.

With less of a training structure and no races to get ready for I unintentionally discovered how I really enjoy cycling and also started up horseback riding lessons again. It also forced me to revisit my “why”. Running is a lot more than just PRs, shiny medals and finish lines.

With that said, I have my first live race scheduled at the end of September. I will be running the Dempsey Challenge 10K following the 25K ride as well. I can’t say for sure that this race may turn virtual or not but I will keep hitting the pavement either way. A full marathon is a goal I still want to achieve in my lifetime. I am taking it day by day, and giving myself some grace, as these days it is difficult to plan for the future. I just know that my first marathon will be special, and I want to be able to run it with the community.

This season has been hard, and we all so desperately want to get back to dawn race starts and finish line beers with all of our running friends. I am still holding on to hope that the time will come. For now, there is a lot to be gained from focusing on personal growth and process goals. We don’t have to remember 2020 as the year all the races were canceled. We can remember it as the year we rediscovered ourselves.