Character is what you do when no one is watching but when it comes to running it seems I have none. That is why being part of a team is important to me. It’s the accountability, the company, and the … visibility … for lack of a better word. Someone is watching and I don’t want to disappoint; someone younger, thinner and faster passes me and says “looking good” or “come on girl” and encourages me. “Damn her,” I think but my legs magically speed up.
Though its getting harder and harder to meet up with my team. My boys have a new morning schedule, and I just don’t have the time to train with the team and make it back home to send my kids to school.
Once a week I pretend to be with my team on a track but instead I am in front of my building running in a makeshift 800 meter loop that goes out for about a quarter mile and back. I basically loop around a long block of short buildings. Both streets are lined with palm trees, and very sparse light. I run on the street as the sidewalks are cracked from roots begging to come out from underneath the concrete.
It’s dark when I go outside. I am alone and look at all the darkened rooms in the buildings. I know many people that live in them and wonder if they are up already. I begin running, and everything hurts. I curse, I give up about one hundred times before I reach the end of my half mile loop to where my water bottle waits for me on top of the newspaper stand.I have stopped midway on a 400 meter sprint just because. It’s lonely in the dark. My inner struggle reveals itself as a slap on my thigh as if I were a horse needing prodding to get back to it. “Why am I stopping?” I literally ask myself and to date I have no real answer. It’s baffling. This struggle far outweighs any pain my pounding heart could cause me.There is no guessing in my track workout. I run for a determined short distance, I know exactly what pace I am supposed to do it at, and how many times I need to repeat it. It is up to me to push myself to get it done, and I rarely do.
By about 6:40 or so signs of life begin to show. Lights in the apartments start to come on, cars begin to travel on the road, kids walk to the bus stop, even the sun begins to make an appearance. Magically, I begin to run faster. Not because I got my second wind, not because I found my stride, but simply because I am now visible as I am when training with my team.
Do I lack character for slacking off in the dark? Do I have what it takes to train for the IronMan if I can’t keep my pacing when training for the Half IronMan? I tell myself that I will be racing alone, so I might as well get used to pushing myself alone and I think I found a shifting balance. One that allows me to take it easier than what shows up on my training schedule, but one that shakes me every once in a while and pushes me to do more.
When I show up to my makeshift track I know I am in for a fight. It will either be a physical battle where I push my limits and meet my pacing, or a battle of the mind where I fight the urge to say “forget it” using expletives and R-rated words.
Yes, character is what you do when no one is watching, and guess what, no one sees me running in the dark. I might be slow but I am running, and I am running with character.
