songs of experience

On a trail run yesterday, my old friend (and former Team Wednesday training partner) asked me if I felt satisfied with what I’d accomplished as a runner. Perhaps he was wondering why I was headed up to the 5k Masters Nationals at Freihofer’s next month; did I have anything left to prove as a runner? Heck no, I said. I reached every goal I ever wanted as a runner - and then some. But there was no gold medal or world record - no where CLOSE to either of those - so how can I say I reached every goal? Well, my mother always told me to try my best. I used to agonize over the difference between wanting to be THE best and trying to do MY best. What if my best never is the best, I often worried. It never was … but, still, I am satisfied. Here’s why: After four Olympic trials over 16 years, I finally lined up on the perfect day (MY perfect day) where I had trained properly for months and months, never missing a day, where my race-fear demons were behind me, where the southern temperature and fan-base was with me, where my physical, mental, and spiritual selves were one, where the three spots open for making an Olympic team were truly OPEN (no druggies in the 10k that year), where the gods of distance running blessed my every 25 laps … on that day, I tried my very best … on that day, I was third. And third was enough. I was satisfied. Making the Olympic team put the letter “O” after my name (in much the same way a doctoral student finally earns her PhD letters). Every race since that day in Atlanta back in 1996 has been like winning a bonus game in pinball.

“(s)He’s a pinball wizard, has to be a trick …

(s)He ain’t got no distractions
Can’t hear those buzzers and bells,
Don’t see lights a flashin’
Plays by sense of smell.
Always has a replay,
‘n’ never tilts at all…
That deaf dumb and blind kid
Sure plays a mean pin ball.”

- lyrics from, The Who