This is going to be a different kind of race report. I could write (again) about how the Colchester half marathon is one of my favorite races. I could remind readers (again) that this is a hilly race in late February in Connecticut, which means the weather is likely to be dodgy. I could mention (again) the amazing, hilarious, brilliant race director, who is somehow everywhere on the course and who promises a refund if you don’t get your money’s worth. I could note (again) that the first time I ran this race, back in 2014, it was a massive breakthrough for me with a nice PR, but more importantly, an experience of flow state and joy in racing that has been a guiding star ever since.
Rick Konon, race director extraordinaire
Instead, I want to talk about layers and impressions. Layers are what I’m calling it when you run the same race over and over again. If you don’t care about the time on the clock, layers can be just stories. I’ve run the Manchester Road Race 14 years in a row. I remember re-pinning Aidan’s bib on the big hill, running in a leprechaun costume, running with my dad, running the virtual race, running fast, running in the cold, running with Rose. Each year adds a new layer, a new story, and all stories are good. The pile of stories is so high that I can no longer re-tell them all each year. They threaten to teeter over on top of me, but I love each one so much. Each memory is like a treasure, a Christmas ornament to be appreciated each year before we hang it on the tree, which is generally what we do the day after the Manchester Road Race.
Races where I care about performance are not like that. I’ve now run the Colchester half six times. I’ve run both one of my most joyful and one of my most miserable half marathons at this race. The layers here are more complex. I share these thoughts because I can’t believe I am the only one wrestling with them. Please do not expect a tidy bow at the end.
Some impressions then, or layers, from Colchester 2024, the good and the bad.
I found some joy at the start!
I told ChrisNewCoach that my main goal for the race was to “find joy” on the course. I was chasing a feeling. I did not find joy. Life is heavy right now and at best, it was a little lighter for a couple of hours.
I ran 1:58:09 about 20 seconds faster than last year. At first, I was really happy because I executed well, balancing my effort across the course. Later I was quite sad because I am working hard at my running and I’d like to see more than a 20 second improvement in time. This “holding steady” result brings up a lot of existential questions. Is faster running still possible? Is something about the hypoparathyroidism slowing me down? Am I just getting old? I don’t know the answer to those questions.
When I ran Colchester in 2014, I imagined myself to be Kara Goucher. I knew she had a big brown ponytail, she had been to the Olympics, and she used her sunglasses as a shield from spectators. I considered her pretty close to perfect and I could manage the ponytail and the sunglasses thing. Ten years later, I know a lot more about Kara. Her experience with running has been far from perfect. She is so much more complicated than I understood in 2014 and she knows better than most that not every run is filled with joy. Kara’s still managing to run even with runner’s dystonia. Would I do that? I would probably try. Because running, racing, life – it’s about doing the best you can with the cards you currently hold. Sometimes it’s hard to resist cursing those cards, but that is not in any way productive.
In 2021, I ran Colchester full of rage about the pandemic. On one long descent, my anger focused on Donald Trump’s poor management of the crisis. When I got to that stretch of road this year, I thought of him again. Layers. But then I thought, I do NOT want Donald Trump in my head during this race. Who is the anti-Trump to drive him out? I came up with our new pastor, Will Tanner. Will is kind and smart and compassionate and funny and inspirational. He’s also complicated, a real person with a complicated life. I chose Pastor Will over President Trump. When I run that stretch of road next year, I imagine they will both be there, but I am proud to have consciously constructed this new layer.
I finished the race, including the last two miles, which are mostly uphill. I had not looked at my watch since the first mile, but I have a good sense of pace and I wasn’t surprised by the 1:58 and change on the clock and at first, I was really happy about it! More than the time, I was happy with *how* I raced. Later, I let the disappointment creep in, which is a bummer.
As I made my way down to the school for the post-race “carb re-load,” I saw two men leaving. The younger man had his hand on the older man’s shoulder. The young man’s shirt said “Blind” and the older man’s shirt said “Guide”. You don’t see a lot of Achilles athletes at Colchester. I’ve wanted to run for Achilles International for a long time, but I’ve always said I would wait until I was no longer focused on my own performance. I’m not ready to give up on my own performance, but I can’t help but feel like God is sending me a message here.
Back in the school, I got changed and found my friends. We engaged in serious carb re-loading. It’s wonderful! The post-race feast at Colchester is amazing! Friends and food. This layer is surely the most important one.
