This past weekend, I ran my first 15K race.
15K.
9.6 miles.
What on earth was I thinking when I signed up for this event?
It turns out that past Sheridan had faith in future Sheridan, though present Sheridan had a few moments of doubt.
Let me explain.
When I started training for the Hot Chocolate 15K (a great event, by the way. RAM Racing has got their stuff together) I was a little nervous. I mean I have only been running a little over a year, I am slow, I tend to go for intervals over non-stop running, and I still feel a bit like an imposter half the time. While I had managed a 10K, bumping up another 5K seemed almost impossible.
Almost.
Somewhere in my mind I had faith that it could be done.
I found a training program that looked manageable – and proceeded using interval running techniques. Some weeks weren’t too challenging, others proved to be a little tougher. I tried different routes and trails around me to break up monotony and, for the most part, put in the miles.
Around week six or seven, I felt the anxiety building. You see, in this race – and others – there is a cut off pace. If you are unable to keep that pace, then you run the risk of being sept off the course or rerouted to a shorter version – I wanted to avoid both if at all possible. Even though it was more than called for at this point in the training, I decided to see how I would do on an 8 mile run. This was more a mental battle I wanted to win than a physical one. I knew I could at least walk 8 miles, it was the pace that was making me so nervous.
So that Saturday, I drove out to one of the trails north of town that formed a near perfect 4 mile loop. Two around that bad boy and I had in my 8. Was it my best run ever? Of course not. But in the end, I completed both loops and managed to be under the sweep time. This simple day confirmed that there was indeed hope I could do this run and not be swept.
Mental hurdle cleared, I kept on with my training. Some days were trail runs, some on paves sidewalks. Some went up steep hills, some were plodded out on a treadmill. Each week brought me closer to 15K-day and I was feeling pretty confident about how I would do. I knew that my pace had increased as I continued training, so the odds of my being swept were low.
This did not stop my brain from kicking into light panic mode the week before the event. It was sometimes as if the confidence I had built up fled in terror when confronted with the actual thought of the event. This only intensified the day before the event. I am sure my friends were tired of hearing about it and my nerves, but all were supportive and gave words of encouragement but it wasn’t alleviating my nervousness.
Then in walked my friend Brooke. Ok, in all fairness, I walked into her place since she was letting me crash at her house before the race – but that’s irrelevant.
Brooke reminded me that I have done the training, I put in the miles, I was stronger and faster then when I started – I needed to trust my training.
She was right.
I had to give myself and my hard work the trust it deserved. I needed to put faith in my preparation and my body – it was ready for this event.
That chat and her reminders put it in perspective for me. While there were still some nerves, they were now at a completely reasonable level.
As the race began, I felt good. Once we crossed that starting line, I put my mind into training mode and went with my intervals, listened to my playlist, and enjoyed the excitement of a big, organized event.
And you know what? It worked.
I managed to knock over 30 seconds off my average pace. My legs felt good, my breathing was steady, and I enjoyed myself. That finish line was a beautiful site – but perhaps the most beautiful thing was that not once during that 9.6 miles did I think “there’s no way I will finish this.”
So I finished my 15K with a big smile on my face, a body that felt good, a speedier snail’s pace, and a trust in my body and my preparations. 
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