I’m gazing at the results board after a 30K at Sacramento’s Gibson Ranch, and I’m thinking dark thoughts.
Gritting my teeth, I growse: “There’s no way that guy will beat me for third place again if I do two months of speedwork.”
I linger by the board, grimly planning my training for the months ahead.
A fit-looking woman in her thirties approaches and checks the results. Then another woman approaches and says, “Oh, hi!!! I haven’t seen you in such a long time! It’s so good to see you! Which race did you run? How did you do?”
“Hi, it’s great to see you, too! I ran the 30K. I placed third in my age group.”
“That’s wonderful!! I’m so happy for you! Congratulations!!”
The women continue to chat and catch up on their lives.
I’m laughing silently. I think, “The universe is trying to tell me something. Perhaps that women know something guys don’t. They’ve got their priorities in order.”
It strikes me how cold it was to obsess over beating the other guy. I vow to train with joy, enjoying the process and letting the results fall where they may.
Running is male and female, a balance of feeling and reason. Each has its role; both are needed; running without one or the other is incomplete.