What I Learned On Broad Street

I do not consider myself a runner. I am an occasional jogger, at best. I prefer to lift weights and do high intensity interval training circuits. That’s my jam. Running ten miles is not. But last Sunday, I did just that and lived to tell the tale.

Back in February, just before I turned 46, I felt I needed some sort of goal. Something to motivate me and give me focus. Something to achieve and feel proud of. Then I saw an ad for Philadelphia’s Broad Street Run and I thought, “Maybe this is a sign.” I registered on a whim and a week later, found out I was accepted. Crap! I immediately had second thoughts. Could I really do it? Should I really do it? Will my stomach be able to handle this? Will my bladder? What if I fail? And what about the crowds? The Broad Street Run is a 39-year-old race with 40,000 runners!

Every time I thought about it, my apprehension grew — so I decided not to think about it. After all, I had nearly three months to practice, train and get ready … Only, I didn’t. My anxiety had me frozen. I tried to run four separate times — 2 miles, 3 miles, 4 miles and 8 miles — and each time, my knee hurt, my ankle hurt and I peed my pants. (Thanks for that, kids!) What was I thinking, signing up for a ten-mile race?!

There was a part of my brain that told me I didn’t have to go through with it. That I hadn’t told anyone I was entered, so I could just back out of it and no one would be the wiser. But the other part of my brain told me to suck it up and prove myself wrong. That if I pushed myself, I could do it. People heavier, slower and older than me do, so why not me?

I decided to tell my husband, who is intimately aware of my crowd anxiety and GI/bladder issues; He was supportive. Then I told my father, a collegiate-level track coach; He was encouraging. The week of the race, I told some friends and even some minor acquaintances; They were all super positive and even impressed. Finally putting it out there made me accountable and gave me the push I need to fully commit to this iconic race. I had only two goals: to start and to finish. I kinda-sorta had a time in my head, but as long as I finished, I planned on counting it as a win.

Along my ten-mile journey through Philly, I learned a few important lessons. Notably,

• Runners are not shy about pooping in the porta-potties.
• Porta-potties never have enough toilet paper — or hand sanitizer.
• Waiting heightens my anxiety and makes my stomach churn.
• I don’t enjoy pre-race small talk with strangers.
• iPod AirPods and a solid playlist are lifesavers.
• Limited water intake ≠ not peeing.
• Impressa bladder supports do not work well enough.
• Printed yoga pants are your friend (see above two lessons).
• Little-to-no water during a ten-mile race = lactic acid build up and quad cramps.
• Funny signs and cheering crowds help.
• Miles seven through ten were longer than three miles, no matter what they say!
• Everything hurts after ten miles.
• Post-run snacks are not paleo-friendly or gluten/dairy/soy/peanut-free.
• Sitting in a car for the 40-minute drive home is the worst. Can you say muscle cramps and temporary paralysis?

But the biggest lesson I learned running Broad Street? That you can do anything you set your mind to as long as you start and don’t give up. Fear can be paralyzing. So can sitting for long periods of time after running ten miles. But if you just keep moving, it gets better. The body really does achieve what the mind believes.

Tom Petty’s, “I Won’t Back Down,” was playing on the radio on my way to the race last Sunday morning, and I sang it to myself when I started to feel like I couldn’t finish. And you know what? I didn’t back down. I finished strong. In a sea of 40,000 runners, I finished in 13,287th place, averaging 9:18/mile. Not too shabby for a middle-aged, pants-wetting, crowd-fearing, occasional jogger. I’m counting it as a win.

You really can be anything you want to be, as long as you believe it and work for it. On Sunday, I believed I was a runner — and I was.

– LJDT

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